Cruel World(67)

“Drop the gun. Do it now or I drop you.” The voice was rough and deep, gravelly in a way that reminded him of people who smoked in the movies he’d watched.

“I just want to get some food,” Quinn said. The gun barrel dug further into his flesh and shoved his head to the side.

“Did I stutter, boy? Put the gun down or you’re dead.”

Quinn lowered the AR-15 to the floor, stooping low and waiting for the moment when the man’s gun would leave his head, but it didn’t come. Whoever he was, he was careful. When Quinn stood again, he felt a hand fumble with the holster on his leg and then the XDM was gone too.

“You alone?” the voice said.

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting food, the same as you.” There was more pressure from the gun barrel and then it was gone.

“Turn around.” Quinn did as the voice asked, rotating in place until he faced the man.

His captor was short and stocky, the details of his face hidden in the choppy shadows thrown by the dim light. A shock of gray hair swept back from his brow in a tangled wave, and the long barrel of the shotgun he held was centered on Quinn’s chest.

The man squinted and then the shotgun’s barrel blocked most of his sight. Would he hear the blast that sawed most of his head away, or would it just be silent, the portions of his brain that received auditory signals already splattered down the aisle like more spilled food.

“The f*ck happened to you?” the man said.

“Nothing. I was born this way. It’s called Fibrous Dysplasia.”

“Can you catch it?” There was a note of fear in the man’s voice now, and Quinn noticed he’d taken a short step back.

“No. It’s genetic.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s true.”

The man backed away another two steps, the shotgun still trained on him, and a shaft of light fell on his face. He was in his late fifties or early sixties with a fresh growth of salt and pepper beard covering heavy jowls below a snub of nose. His eyes were sharpened points of green, flitting to Quinn and then to the side.

“What are you doing packing that kind of weaponry?” the man asked. His voice was still course but the edge of tension was gone.

“Haven’t you seen the things roaming around out there?”

“They’re people.”

“They used to be.”

“They’re people, damn it!” The older man shuffled forward, the shotgun barrel enlarging in Quinn’s line of sight. “They’re working on a cure right now, right this instant. You’ll see. The army’ll roll in here before long and start inoculating them, change them back the way they were.” His voice faded with the last sentence, barely audible in the quiet store. The muzzle of his weapon dropped also, only inches, but enough for Quinn to take a step forward.

“I really hope so. I do, because a close friend of mine became one of them, and I’d do anything to have him back the way he was.” He waited, his heart kicking against his ribs hard enough to hurt. The other man lowered the weapon completely and sagged, his shoulders rounding forward.

“So many are gone, the whole damn town. You’re the first person I’ve seen in days. They’re out there, though. Maybe a dozen of them still hanging around. They run together, you know.”

“I’ve seen them,” Quinn said, his hands, palms forward, near his shoulders. The man wavered for a moment and then turned to the side, cocking his bushy head to the right.

“You ain’t gonna try anything stupid, are you?”

“No sir.”

“Good. You can pick up your gun.”

Quinn studied him for a long moment and then bent and retrieved the AR-15 from the floor, careful to keep it pointed well away from the man.

“Can I get my handgun back too?” Quinn asked.

“Oh, sure, sure.” The man said, pulling the XDM from his pocket and returning it to Quinn, grip first. “Name’s Edgar, Edgar Plinton. Was the sheriff here for the past four years.”

“Quinn Kelly,” Quinn said, extending a hand and shaking with the other man.

“You need some food you said?” Edgar asked, gesturing toward the unlit aisles.

“Yeah, we do.”

“We?” The shotgun rose several inches.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to tell you straight off. I’m traveling with a woman and her son. They’re out in the Tahoe.”