11
Glenn knocked at the front door before hunching to drape an arm over my shoulder possessively. I was grateful for any shield from the rain penetrating my thick hair and trickling down the sides of my neck. I pulled Glenn’s jacket tight across my chest. We stood for maybe ten or fifteen seconds, but it felt like longer. Finally, I heard the grinding and clicking of metal as someone disabled several locks.
The door opened in stages, slowly, a few inches at a time. The overhanging trees and lousy weather meant the interior of the house was relatively dark, and a window on the opposite wall backlit the figure opening the door.
All I could make out initially was a man shape. Slightly taller than Glenn, and more lean. As the door swung wider and my eyes adjusted, I saw shoulder-length dark
