Cruel World(57)

The smell hit him like a hammer. It was like his father’s and Teresa’s rooms, like the cars on the bridge, except multiplied tenfold. It was all he could do to keep from retching. The odor was in his nose, coating his throat, burning his eyes. Ty coughed once and covered his mouth. Quinn put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Alice moved forward, seemingly unaffected.

They were in a lobby with a square kiosk straight ahead, padded chairs lining walls hung with magazine racks. To the right side of the desk, a hallway ran away from them into darkness, a few sets of doors visible on either side. A single light burned on the desk, and when they neared it, Quinn saw a dark splash of red dried to a brown on the swivel chair before the blank computer screen. He shared a glance with Alice, and they both turned on the flashlights they’d attached to their rifles earlier that morning. Their beams cut swaths in the murk that inhabited the hallway, the sound of their footsteps much too loud. Quinn breathed through his mouth, not only to cope with the smell but also to hear any furtive movements that might’ve been drowned out otherwise.

The hallway spanned the entire length of the building, the right side holding rooms looking out upon the expanse of lawn that let some light into the long space. The rooms opposite them offered no views except the decorations each patient hung up on the walls. There was an abundance of these that appeared and vanished in the sweep of the flashlights: mobiles made of string and straws, finger paintings, and the occasional full-length canvas sitting on an easel. A red exit light flickered above a hallway to their right emitting a soft buzzing. Alice paused there, bringing their procession to a stop.

“My mom’s room is at the very end of the hall,” she whispered. “Why don’t you two wait here, and I’ll go check.”

“No,” Ty whispered back.

“I don’t think we should split up,” Quinn said.

A door swung open a dozen paces down the hall, its hinges emitting a brief squeak.

They froze, their lights trained on the door as it coasted to a stop. The doorway remained a frame of shadow.

Nothing moving.

No sound.

Quinn tightened his grip on the AR-15, his finger touching the trigger.

“Hello?” Alice said in a low voice.

There was a beat and then a bald head poked from the darkness followed by two dark brown eyes that flitted over them, taking them in. The man emerged from what Quinn assumed was a janitor’s closet since he was inexplicably holding a mop in one hand, its head dried to a tattered pulp. He wore a dirty, blue jumpsuit, and his bare feet poked from the pant legs like two white fish. He blinked in the glare, holding up one hand to shield himself.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t. He’s not here. Doctor’s not here. Not in right now. Come back later and see,” the man said, looking down at the floor. He began to shift his weight from foot to foot.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Quinn said, stepping past Alice and Ty. He lowered his gun toward the floor. “Are you here alone?”

The man rotated as he swayed back and forth. One hand went to his mouth and he inserted a pinkie finger between his teeth, biting down. He shook his head.

“Is there someone here with you?” Quinn asked, taking another slow step forward.

The man pulled his finger from his mouth and grinned.

“Always here, here, here, and there’s room now. Any room I want. Do you know which one is yours?”

“Do you know Myra Fisher?” Alice asked. “She had a room here too.”

The man’s eyes traveled from Quinn to Alice.

“Marie, Marie, Marie, she lives across from me, me, me.” He giggled. It was a high, splintered sound that raised the hairs on the back of Quinn’s neck.

Something flashed by the window of the room to their right, there and gone in a blink.

Quinn stepped back and brought his rifle up, trying to see out the window in the room behind them. There was nothing but the long reach of dead grass, the fountain still flowing.

“Something’s wrong,” Quinn whispered.

“Always wrong, ping-pong, sing-song, come on,” the man sang in a high voice and sprinted away from them down the hall, dropping the mop to the floor with a clatter. His blue jumpsuit flashed in and out of their lights.

“Fuck,” Alice said, moving forward with Ty in tow behind her.

“Alice, let’s go,” Quinn said, snagging her arm.

She pulled away. “He knows my mother. Marie’s her middle name.” Her eyes were shining orbs in the flashlight’s glow. “I need to know.”