Michigan's Upper Peninsula
After what seemed like hours, the cell phone rang. Piper froze mid-pacing, and I stiffened on the couch. Slowly, I leaned forward, snatched the phone from the coffee table, and glanced at the screen. I swiped to accept the call.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual.
"You're going to have some guests soon. They're friendly, so don't shoot."
The call dropped, and I held the phone away from my ear, staring at the device like I had no idea what it was or how to use it. I blinked. "Okay then," I grumbled.
"What?" Piper asked. "Was that Macaih again?"
I nodded.
"Well, what did he say?" She rounded the corner of the couch and sat next to me. "What's going on?"
"I'm not sure." I tossed the phone back onto the coffee table and rubbed my hands over my face. "All he said was that guests were coming and not to shoot because they're friendly." I glanced at her, my face scrunched.
"What the hell does that mean?"