Some thirty minutes after careful and quiet walking through what was possibly a city park, Paul and Rahu happened upon a spacious guardhouse. Several windows were broken and the door was almost off the hinges but the inside seemed to have been left as is as if its former occupants didn’t have the wherewithal to mind what became of its contents.
A square table with two chairs, a rat-eaten couch, and a crate of empty soft drink bottles was what they saw inside. Paul groaned as he pulled out a chair and sat on it gingerly, testing if the legs would suddenly splinter from his weight. The chair was stable he found out and relaxed. Rahu had foregone the other chair and sat on the floor, his back against the wall.
Quite suddenly, the silence outside was broken by the onslaught of rain falling
