Cruel World(106)

“Oh come on, mom. He’s really nice.”

“Doesn’t he have a collar on?” she asked.

“He does, but there’s no tag on it,” Quinn said, moving down the steps. The dog came to him, panting and smiling as he petted his head. “I’m going to take a look around back.”

He walked to the rear of the house, the dog remaining where he was beside the porch. Between two large propane cylinders, a makeshift lean-to sat a few feet above the ground. Beneath it were twin dog bowls. One was partially full of greenish, scummy water. The other sat beside a torn bag of dog food. Several dark pebbles rattled as he lifted it out into the light. He wiped away dust and dirt from the side exposing bright letters.

“His name’s Denver,” Quinn said, coming back around the front while holding up the dish. “It’s right here on your bowl, isn’t it, Denver?” The dog wagged his tail and came to him, nuzzling his leg before jumping to put huge paws on his chest. “Whoa! You’re too big for that.” He pushed the dog back down, but Denver continued to wag his tail, his entire body shivering with delight.

“Denver. Wouldn’t ever have guessed that,” Alice said. “Maybe it’s where he’s from originally.”

“That could be,” Quinn said, ruffling the dog’s fur one more time before mounting the steps.

“We should get going,” Alice said, looking at the bright cloud hiding the sun.

“I think we should wait one more day, make sure you’re good to go.”

“I’m good to go,” Alice said.

“Alice—”

“I’m fine.” There was a familiar edge to her voice that told him there would be no negotiation. “Let’s leave in an hour. There’s nothing to stay here for.”

~

They walked to the nearest house in the mid-morning, Quinn and Alice in front with the guns, Ty behind with his cane, Denver at heal beside him. Quinn watched the dog as they moved down the declined road. Every ten steps or so, Denver would nudge Ty’s hip with his shoulder, and it was only after the fourth time did he realize that the dog was keeping Ty from straying even an inch out of line. Quinn was about to say something to Alice when they came upon the driveway and turned into it.

The house at the end of the lane was massive, its top soaring almost to the tree tips. They found several cans of vegetables and fruit along with some more candy, but no weapons.

“Damn pacifists,” Alice muttered before leaving the house. In the garage they found a newer GMC Sierra pickup alongside a hybrid smart-car. Alice paused before opening the door to the truck.

“Want to take the car?”

“What?”

“I’m just trying to be eco-friendly. Doing my part to save the world.”

Quinn shook his head. “Get in.”

They drove toward Ferry but turned south before coming within sight of the town. The day lightened but maintained its cool, gray tone throughout the afternoon. They had to stop twice to tow wrecks from the narrow country road they drove on. At the second crash, a flock of crows feasted on something in a nearby field, taking flight long enough for them to see the tattered remains of a man’s jacket and pants.

It was near evening when they joined a large highway that took them northwest through a larger town. Vacant storefronts slid by, empty parking lots, the occasional dead car, or body. When they’d left the burg behind, Alice shifted in the front seat, her hands toying with the revolver.

“We should find somewhere soon.”

“Definitely. I’ll pull off at the next exit that looks—” But his voice faltered as they rounded a bend and the setting sun shone full force through the windshield. Quinn took his foot off the gas and coasted to a stop on the left side of the highway near a guardrail.

“What are you doing?” Alice said.

“It’s,” Quinn started but couldn’t continue. He put the truck in park and tore his eyes away from the scene before him, checking the immediate surroundings as he opened his door and climbed out.

“Quinn, are you okay?” Alice asked.

“What’s wrong?” Ty said from the backseat.

“Nothing,” Quinn said, stepping away from the truck. A cool breeze trailed past him, pushing his hair back, and he swallowed, coming even with the steel rail.

A strong river flowed beneath the highway, so blue it nearly hurt his eyes to gaze into it. The water stretched between two rounded hills, their sides rich with dozens of trees that grew close to the water’s edge in tiered rows, their branches beginning to green. The sun painted the dead river grass a shade of yellow as it bent beneath the wind’s touch and it rippled like the water beside it. Reaching tips of rocks studded the center of the river in a zigzag like the zipper of a woman’s dress.