Cruel World(61)

“You were only doing what anyone would,” Quinn said. “I don’t know what type of person wouldn’t have gone looking for their own mother.”

“But at the expense of what?” Alice burst out. “Ty’s life? Yours? I knew she was dead already. I could feel it. But I had to check, had to satisfy that gnawing doubt. I…” she opened her mouth to say more and just shook her head. He did reach out then, his hand finding the softness of her shoulder.

She stiffened and turned away.

Quinn lowered his hand, pressing it against his hip, unsure of what to do with it. What had he expected? For her to fall into his arms? Of course she shrank away. Who wouldn’t? Maybe she feared she could catch whatever he had, like the plague was still virulent and he was a carrier.

“I’ll be in the car,” he said, giving her a last look. The wrapped layers of her dark hair shook once, and he left her to cry alone on the side of the road.





Chapter 14



Lonely Miles



They found an old farmhouse on the top of a hill to stay in for the night.

They’d driven for hours after Alice came back to the Tahoe, the ivory skin of her face red but clear of tears. She’d placed an unopened can of soda atop the button that raised the toll arm and they’d driven through, the lane open forever to anyone who came after them. They’d stopped only to wash off the patient’s blood in a small creek beside the road, the water so cold it left them gasping as they doused their faces, hands, and hair in it.

The driveway that led to the house was overgrown, the mailbox pitted with rust and time. Quinn had spotted the ‘For Sale’ sign, half tipped forward to the ground like an exhausted sentry. The house itself was narrow and tall like many in New England. Faded white siding and dark blue eaves that peeled in the evening light. A field stretched out before it on the southern side, sloping down to a brambled meadow where several deer grazed, their watchful eyes finding them when they stopped near the house before going back to the ground’s meager offerings.

The house was musty and empty with mouse droppings covering many of the surfaces, but the living room had a wide view of the field and drive along with a stone hearth. There were no beds in the rooms upstairs, but a dusty, pea-green sofa sat against one wall in the living room, which Ty flopped down upon and immediately fell asleep propped up against one arm, his eyes partially shut. Without speaking, Quinn and Alice unloaded what they needed for the night. As he made his way up the stairs on the last trip, he winced and stumbled, the gash in his leg brightening with pain. Alice emerged from the doorway and stopped him as he passed.

“What?”

“Why are you limping?”

“I think my stitches reopened,” he said, setting down a bag full of food.

“Let’s have a look.”

“It’s probably okay.”

“Don’t be dumb; that’s how little problems become big ones.”

She led him to a decrepit bench on the porch, grabbing the first aid kit on the way. When she stopped before him and raised her eyebrows, he glanced around the space.

“What?”

“Drop ‘em, bud.”

“Drop what?”

“Your pants. I’m guessing you don’t have unlimited pairs from home, and you ruined the ones from yesterday.”

“Uh…”

“I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Quinn said quickly, unbuttoning his pants. He turned away and then sat on the bench when he’d lowered them to his knees. The top two stitches were frayed ends poking from bloodied flesh, but the rest held.

Alice didn’t say anything, going about cleaning the wound with peroxide again before re-stitching the cut closed in a few deft movements. When she was finished, she gave him one of her rare smiles. It was like the sun drifting from behind a cloud the way it changed her face.

“All patched up and…what happened to your shoulder?”

Quinn glanced at the spot where the liquid nitrogen had landed. The cotton of his shirt was stiff and matted and it felt as if someone were constantly holding a flame to the skin beneath.

“Some of the liquid nitrogen got on me.”

“For God’s sake, why didn’t you say something. Off with your shirt.”

“Can I pull up my pants first?”

Alice barked her harsh laugh and nodded. He stood and after fastening his pants, drew his t-shirt off, the patch on his shoulder making him grit his teeth with the movement. There was a swollen and upraised blotch of skin the diameter of a pop can where the liquid nitrogen had hit him. It was white at the center, fading to a purple-ish brown at its edges.