Cruel World(80)

“Why?”

“Because he was weak!” Quinn blinked, surprised by the way his voice resounded in the small room. Blood pulsed in his ears. “He couldn’t bear to see me ridiculed, so he receded from public life. He kept me shielded there, away from everyone, from everything. It was the only place I’d ever known.”

Alice stepped back until her knees hit the chair she’d been sitting on and she fell into it. She looked at him for a long time and then shook her head.

“This is all unbelievable. The one f*cking house I pick to overnight in.”

“Well, I’m sorry you found me.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Momma?”

Ty stood outlined in the doorway, one hand clutching his dowel.

“Go finish eating, Ty.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Ty turned and retreated down the hall, the dowel tapping the floor softly.

Quinn closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry I brought her here, but I couldn’t leave her like that. I had no way of knowing she was still vulnerable to the plague.”

Alice stared at the wall, the muscles in her jaw clenching then relaxing beneath the smooth skin of her cheek.

“You need to get some rest,” she finally said, and left him alone in the quiet room.

~

He awoke the second time to the same gray light filtering in around the makeshift curtain. Rain still fell but with much less force than before. It could’ve been minutes since Alice left the room, but he knew it wasn’t. He’d tried to stay awake, waiting for the moment when she would return or pass by the open doorway, but the fatigue was a ten-ton anchor, pulling him deep into the trenches of sleep.

Quinn sat up, the pain in his head turned down from the blaring level of before. He stood and tested his balance, then took a step. When he didn’t fall to his face, he moved into the hallway and glanced toward the kitchen. There was a light on there, and he went that way.

The kitchen was empty. A few dirty dishes soaking in dishwater. Two empty beer bottles on the table. An MRE wrapper in the garbage. He went to the sink and dipped his fingers in. The water was lukewarm.

“Alice? Ty?”

No answer.

He hurried back the way he’d come, stopping by the stairs to listen. Silence. He continued to the front door, a brick of tension expanding in his stomach. Knowing what he’d see, hating it just the same.

He opened the door.

The Tahoe was gone.

And so were they.





Chapter 18



Alone



Quinn sat on the front stoop watching the light drain from the horizon.

He held a beer bottle loosely in one hand, the other on the stock of his AR-15. He’d found his duffel bag near the bathroom door. Alice had left him a dozen MREs, three hundred rounds of ammo for the rifle, fifty for the XDM, his clothing, and a case of water.

He watched the naked woods falling into darkness and almost moved to walk into it. He’d leave his weapon here, his supplies, and just walk until he found a place to rest. Or maybe something would find him first. Quinn drank the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle into the yard. The land settled into shadow around him.

When it was full dark, he went inside the house and ate one of the MREs, not bothering to read its contents. It went down without taste. When he was finished, he pulled the curtain aside from the window in the sitting room and rested on the loveseat, his rifle cradled on his lap.

The moon rose and shone behind the clouds that continued to emit rain on and off. The light was ethereal, coating the trees in silver cut with black, each new blade of grass distinguishable. He waited for headlights to slice the darkness, to shine on the house and the Tahoe to reappear. He waited for hours.

Sometime near dawn he fell asleep, dreams of demon-like figures cajoling around a fire in the center of a clearing, their voices braided into a chant that drew a cable of terror tight around his chest. Their faces were blank slates of mist, swirling as they laughed and danced around him. He was bound and couldn’t move, time moving slower than it should have, succumbing to the monotone chant that was otherworldly and frightening beyond anything he’d ever known. One of the demons came closer, and he saw that it had a face. It was his father, grinning around bloodied teeth.

Quinn woke to a high-pitched chirp and swung the rifle up, centering on a robin that sat on the windowsill. It turned its head, focusing on him with one black eye as he relaxed in the cushions. It chirped again and leaped away, wings flapping madly as it soared between two trees and out of sight. It was a new day, and the sun was out, barely clearing the tops of the trees.