– Copy that," Ted said. – And, Chris, don't worry. Everything's going to be all right.
He slung his bag on his shoulder and headed for the exit.
Chris was alone. He was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The room was silent, broken only by the light creaking of the floorboards. He felt weak, but at the same time there was hope in his soul.
There was the sound of an engine outside. Chris raised himself on his elbows and looked out the window. Ted was getting into his old truck. The truck started slowly and soon disappeared around the corner.
Chris sighed and lay down on the couch again. His stomach rumbled, showing that he was hungry. Chris thought about the cellar, and he remembered that there was food there. He needed something to eat to regain his strength.
Chris gathered his courage and rose to his feet. Every movement was difficult, but he knew he had to do it. Holding onto the wall, he slowly made his way down to the first floor. His gaze fell on the broken door. Chris realized he had to fix it or he wouldn't feel safe.
When he went down into the cellar, he found that everything was organized, just the way he liked it. His eyes immediately fell on the stew that stood in the corner on the second shelf. Chris picked it up and put it on the table. Then he found a jar of pickled mushrooms and took those too.
– Here it is," he said aloud, opening the stew. – Okay, let's get some more mushrooms. And life will start to get better.
He went upstairs to open the jars. The room was quiet, only the wind could be heard outside the window. Chris opened the stew and mushrooms, and his eyes fell on the cutlery. He remembered that he had a can opener.
Chris quickly opened both cans and began to greedily eat straight from them. The taste of stew and mushrooms was familiar and pleasant. He felt his strength gradually returning to him.
– Well," he said to himself, "the first step has been taken. Now we just have to wait for Ted to come back.
He sat down in the chair next to the fireplace and sank into his thoughts, scrolling through everything that had happened to him.
Chris opened his eyes at the quiet but insistent noise coming from the front door. He lifted himself off the couch he had fallen asleep in, waiting for his neighbor. His sleep had been deep but disturbing, and now that he was finally awake, his body was filled with fatigue and a slight shiver. The wind whistling outside the windows brought with it a chill and a foreboding of something unkind.
As he approached the hallway, Chris noticed that the doors were slamming in the strong wind. The wind seemed to be trying to tear them off their hinges. It was already evening, and the sky, usually calm, looked dark and ominous tonight. Ted was still gone, and it was beginning to get unsettling. Chris figured it had been hours since he was supposed to arrive. "We've got to do something about that door," he thought, feeling irritation overwhelm him.
He stepped out onto the porch and breathed in the cold air. The wind immediately hit him in the face, making him shiver. In the sky, on the horizon, Chris saw a strange purple glow. It was so bright that it blinded him for a moment. The light pulsed like a living thing, and a strange sense of unease emanated from it. Chris felt a chill run down his spine.
