The Girl in Red

“Oh,” Sam said. Red could see her reshuffling her worldview. “That’s cool, though.”

“Thanks,” Red said.

“But you liked to kiss your girlfriend, right?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” Red said. “When people are in love they like to kiss each other.”

Riley made gagging noises. “Love, gross.”

They could have gone on arguing, Red supposed, except that Sam finally seemed to recognize that Riley was too young for this conversation and rolled her eyes.

The truth was that Red was attracted to men and women but hadn’t dated much. Most people were frankly not interesting enough for her to bother with, and it was hard to find people in her little town—or even from the college—who liked the things that she liked. She’d often thought she might care more about dating if she lived in a city and her pool of potential mates was larger.

Besides, it was hard for her to lower her guard around other people enough to form any kind of real intimacy. She was always on the lookout for someone who might see her as a prize or use her as a fetish because of her prosthetic leg.

They circled around the back of the bungalow. There was a large window covered with a white sheet just above a dryer exhaust.

A good place to break into, Red thought. A little glass wouldn’t hurt the laundry room. She always tried to be polite when entering other people’s houses—there was a possibility that they might come back to them one day, after all—and she disliked the idea of accidentally breaking some precious heirloom as she stepped through the window frame.

“Should I find a rock?” Riley asked.

“To break the window? No, I’m going to use this,” Red said, and took her axe off her belt.

She turned the blunt side toward the window and then waved at the kids, who stood at her hip, watching.

“Get away,” she said. “You don’t want to get cut by broken glass if it flies in every direction.”

“I’d rather you didn’t do that. Apart from the risk to your kids it’s very hard to get a good glazier to come and fix windows these days.”

The voice was strong and firm but a little scratchy, like a well-played record, and it made Red jump and nearly lop her own ear off with the blade of the axe, which was facing her. Sam and Riley clutched at the hem of her coat.

Red lowered the axe slowly, spinning the blade face out so she could use it if she had to. She turned to face the voice, which was not easy to do with two small people clinging to her.

Don’t let anything happen to Riley or Sam. Please, whatever happens, let them get away.

She expected to see one of the men they’d spotted earlier, and that there would be a rifle pointed at her head. But instead there was an almost comically benign-looking gray-haired man not much taller than Red peering at them out of dark inquisitive eyes.

He was wearing a neatly pressed blue button-down shirt under a gray cardigan with soft-looking khaki pants and worn navy blue Converse sneakers. His hair was cut short on the sides, longer on the top, and combed back from his forehead. He looked like he was getting ready to walk to the grocery store, or do some light gardening.

How did he get his shirt pressed without electricity? Red thought, then said, “Who are you?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled a little bit. “Don’t you think I should be the one asking that question? You’re about to break into my house, after all.”

“Oh,” Red said. “Um.”

It wasn’t often that she was at a loss for words. A first in the annals of history, Adam would have said.

Now is really not the time to think about Adam.

“I’m sorry,” Red said. “We thought nobody was here.”

The man nodded. “A reasonable assumption, given the circumstances.”

He looked at her expectantly. The silence stretched out between them. Red wasn’t really sure what to do. Should she just take the kids and go? Would he try to stop her?

Riley and Sam were both trembling, their faces hidden in her coat. She was able to pat Riley’s head with her free left hand but could only give Sam an awkward bump of her elbow since Red still had the axe in her hand and she wasn’t ready to put it down yet. The man seemed friendly but that didn’t mean anything.

“I see that the lack of civilization has made you forget the rules of civility. Very well. I shall go first. My name is Park Dae-Jung, though most people call me D.J.”

He gave them a little bow, hands at his sides.

“Uh,” Red said. It was really quite extraordinary, the way she could run her mouth in the face of an army but when confronted with a harmless-looking old man she could only manage single syllables.

She cleared her throat. “Um. I’m Red. This is Riley and this is Sam. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Park.”