Cruel World(93)

A gunshot rang out in the distance.

Then another. Then three more in quick succession.

Quinn ran back the way he’d come as the gunfire increased to a steady riot. He slid beneath the balsams and found Alice already gaining her feet with Ty’s help.

“What the hell?” she asked, limping forward.

“Sounds like things are imploding back there.”

“Let’s go then,” Alice said.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Here, this is the only other magazine I have,” she said, pulling a thirty-round clip for the AR-15 from her pants pocket. Quinn loaded the weapon and slung it around his shoulders before helping Alice to her feet.

They made their way through the woods, Ty holding Alice’s hand, Alice leaning on Quinn each time she took a step with her injured leg. They stopped at the stream and she drank, sucking the water down in long slurps while the gunfire tapered off, fading thunder in the distance. It slowed, a series of fast pops and then quiet.

One last shot echoed to them.

Alice paused from drinking and looked at Quinn before filling her mouth once more.

“This will probably make us sick, but we don’t have a choice right now,” she said, rising to her feet. “We don’t know when we’ll find water again.” Quinn nodded and helped Ty cup the stream in his hands to drink.

“How far is the compound from the highway?” Quinn asked when Ty had finished.

“Far. I would say at least seven miles.”

“Do you know which direction we should head to find it again?”

Alice hobbled in a circle, looking at the trees and the rise of the hill behind them.

“I think it would be that way, but I can’t say for sure,” she said, pointing to the south. “Since you had to drag my ass all the way up that hill last night, I’m a little disoriented believe it or not.”

“He didn’t drag you, mom, he carried you,” Ty said.

Alice blinked and her mouth tightened into a line.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s the least I could do.” She was looking at him the same way she had before, like she was taking him apart piece by piece and examining what she found. He ignored the impulse to look away and met her gaze. Held it.

“What are you guys doing?” Ty asked.

The moment broke and Alice glanced at her son.

“Figuring out where we’re going.”

Quinn cleared his throat. “Let’s head south. I’m sure we’ll run into something sooner or later.”

They set off without any more discussion. The woods thickened as they traveled, the trees growing taller, their tops seeming to skim the clouds that continued to coast by. Patches of blue sky between branches, the wind in their ears, their progress slow but methodical as they leaned on one another, helped each other over obstacles. There were times when Alice would grasp his hand in her own, her fingers tightening as she hobbled beside him, and he resisted glancing at her to see if she was looking at him.

At mid-day they stopped in a glade hemmed in by towering white pine. Hunger was a hot fist in Quinn’s stomach, and he surveyed the surrounding woods.

“I’m going to try to get us something to eat,” he said, readjusting the rifle.

“Like what?” Ty asked.

“Probably a squirrel or something.”

Ty made a disgusted face. “A squirrel? No, we can’t eat a squirrel.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re soft.”

“They are if you cook them right,” Alice said from where she sat on the ground. Ty turned his head in her direction, his mouth open. Quinn barked laughter and set off for the nearest stretch of trees.

The air was cooler beneath the wide branches of the pines, his footsteps muted on fallen needles. He watched overhead for the telltale shadow of a squirrel or chipmunk, but the limbs were devoid of any life. Even the birds were quiet here. He continued on, pushing through a stand of poplar and down a short valley that ended in a rocky stream flowing slowly, its middle only a foot deep. He was about to cross it and continue on to the other side where a promising copse of pines waited, when three long shadows floating idly in the stream caught his attention. The fish swam against the light current, their dark bodies curving lazily to keep even with its pace. Quinn edged closer to the stream, careful not to let his shadow fall upon the water. He aimed through the sights, centering on the middle and largest fish of the group, and pulled the trigger.