"We could use some luck," Dougal said, hefting their gear from the van.
"Don't jinx it," Camden warned.
Mikko helped them unload, then leaned against the van. "The shopping center is located about fifteen kilometers down the road, then east at the crossroads. Can't miss it—the only commercial building for fifty kilometers. There is a car in the garage for your use, and the tank is full. I'll be back tomorrow morning at eight to take you to the airstrip."
"Thank you," Lokan said, shaking the man's hand. "We owe you."
"You owe Turner," Mikko corrected. "I'm just paying back old debts. Stay safe, stay inside, and try to avoid attracting attention if you do go shopping. I don't anticipate any Soviet spies out here, but you never know."
With that cheerful advice, he climbed back in the van and drove off, leaving them standing in front of their temporary sanctuary.
"First things first," Grant said. "We sweep the house and check security and supplies."
"First things first," Carol countered, "I shower. You can do whatever you want after I no longer smell like a yak."
"You don't smell like a yak," Lokan protested.
"You can't smell me because that's what you smell like, too. We've gone nose-blind to our own stench."
Grant sighed. "Fine. Camden, you take first watch. Dougal and I will do the sweep. Try not to use up all the hot water."
"No promises," Carol called over her shoulder as she headed inside.
The cabin's interior was as well-appointed as Mikko had promised—the main room combined living and dining areas, with a modern kitchen along one wall. A fireplace dominated another wall, stacked wood beside it. Hallways led off to bedrooms and bathrooms.
"Oh, thank God," Carol called from the bathroom. "There's actual soap. And towels. Clean towels, Lokan. Do you realize how wonderful that is?"
He was amused by her rapture over basic amenities. "You shower first. I'll check the supplies and see what we need to get."
"My hero." She started stripping off her clothes as she headed into the bathroom. "There are toiletries, first-aid supplies, and bathrobes in here," she called out.
"Good."
Lokan waited until he heard the shower start, then began exploring the cabin. The kitchen was indeed fully stocked—canned goods, dried foods, even fresh bread and milk in the refrigerator.
It was all basic and utilitarian, and it would do for now, but after years of living in luxury and playing the role of successful businesspeople, they had grown accustomed to better.
Fifteen minutes later, Carol emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing one of the bathrobes that was made for someone twice her size. "Your turn," she said. "It was a great sacrifice, but since I love you so much, I left you some hot water."
"Thank you." He kissed her as he passed. "I'll be quick."
The shower was indeed heaven. Lokan stood under the spray, letting the hot water wash away days of sweat and grime. By the time he emerged, he felt almost human again. Or immortal, rather.
He found Carol dressed in clothes that didn't quite fit—a pair of sweatpants that were too long and a sweatshirt that was too large.
"Where did you find those?" He waved a hand over her.
"In the closet. There is a matching outfit for you as well."
"Perfect." He opened the closet door. "Do you still want to go shopping, or will these do?"
She looked at herself and grimaced. "I can't arrive at the village looking like this."
"You look beautiful as you always do," he said. "It doesn't matter what you have on."
"You're so sweet." She smiled. "But I have no choice. I have to go shopping."
"Then let's make it quick. Clothes that fit, proper luggage, and maybe that face cream if they have it."
