Cruel World(24)

Quinn pushed the handgun through the small gap in the towels, steadying it so the grip wouldn’t rattle against the shelf as his hand shook. Bandanna moved back into view holding a large comforter under one arm. He paused and turned his head to the side, his profile dark against the light streaming in from the hallway. He stood there, a statue in the doorway, listening. Quinn opened his mouth, trying to breathe as quietly as he could. His arm was beginning to ache from holding it at the odd angle before him. The sights of the gun jounced across Bandanna’s skull. His finger tightened on the trigger.

“Hey Rick.”

The voice came from the base of the stairs. The man turned and stepped into the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a nice Tahoe in the garage. Wanna take it?”

“No, the truck’ll do better on the back roads. You find anything else?”

“Nope. Didn’t see any sign of anyone either. You sure someone was here?”

“The milk in that glass is still wet down there. Someone was here this morning.”

“Well, they’re not here now.”

Rick shot a glance into the closet once more, his eyes running over Quinn’s hiding place before he began to swing the door shut.

Quinn’s thumb touched the flashlight switch and a blade of light sprung between the towels and hit the closing door. He jerked his thumb away from the grip and the light disappeared.

The door stopped closing and then slowly re-opened.

Rick stepped back inside the closet, examining the place on the door where the flashlight beam had landed. He scanned the space once more, searching the darkness where Quinn lay.

“Rick?” The other man’s voice was closer now.

Rick cradled his shotgun, the blanket he was carrying now at his feet in a pile.

“What’re you doing?”

“Thought I saw something.”

“What?”

“A light or something on the door as I was closing it.”

“Probably a reflection.”

The silence became pregnant. Unbearable. Quinn shuddered, not believing they couldn’t hear his heart thundering. He held the sight as steady as he could on Rick’s forehead.

“Yeah, probably.”

“The pantry’s pretty full. You were right about this place.”

The two men turned away from the linen closet, Rick gathering the comforter once again. They moved down the stairs and out of sight, their voices funneling up from the lower floor.

Quinn drew his arm back and rested the gun on his chest. His entire body ran with sweat, and strange colors danced on the darkened ceiling above him.

“I can’t believe how that transformer went up when the car hit it. Fourth of July, man.”

“Dumbf*cks shouldn’t have run. I wasn’t going to kill them.” Rick’s voice was lower but still discernable.

“I bet it knocked out power to half the county.”

“Probably.”

“See, I wasn’t kidding about the pantry. Fully stocked.”

“Get the cooler and we’ll take some meat from the freezer.”

The sounds of the men taking his food floated up to Quinn and he closed his eyes. A heavy weariness draped over him and unbelievably he realized he could probably fall asleep right there. He could drift away and maybe roll off the shelf. Maybe Rick would come back with his shotgun and end him. Maybe that was best.

“You know, you can probably take that handkerchief off. I’m pretty sure we’re immune. You look f*ckin’ silly anyway.”

“Shut it, Dan. You have no idea if we’re immune or not.”

“I’m just saying, being brothers our genes are the same.”

“You don’t know the first thing about genes or immunity. We’re lucky, that’s it.”

“Well, whoever lived here sure as hell wasn’t. Saw a couple mattresses all tore up out in the woods. Person who was here earlier must’ve done that, huh?”

There was a long pause before Rick answered.

“Tore up?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get these last few bags packed up and get out of here.”

“Why? You think maybe—”

“Quit talking and grab that pack of water. Let’s go.”

There were several more bumps and a bang followed by a loud curse. Then booted footsteps trailing away. Then silence. The truck’s engine came to life and its low growl surged and then receded, its tires crunching on the drive.