Cruel World Page 11

  Although he wasn’t hungry, Quinn started to pick at his food also. The apples were on the verge of going bad, their flesh sandy on his tongue, but he ate them anyway. When they were almost finished with their plates, Alice returned, her hair wet and combed straight back from her forehead that now had a wide Band-Aid across it. The blood was gone, and her face was fresh and smooth. Quinn caught himself staring, and it was his turn to look away, heat rising in his cheeks.

  “Chips for breakfast? I don’t think so little man!” Alice play-wrestled with Ty as he tried to bring the last chip to his mouth and finally succeeded, chewing purposely with his mouth open. “You little brat,” Alice teased, tickling his neck. She took up her own plate and popped an apple into her mouth. “Thank you,” she said after swallowing.

  “It’s not much.”

  “It’ll make a turd.”

  Quinn paused with his hand partway to his face and glanced at her. Ty giggled and clapped a hand to his mouth. Alice shook her head as Quinn let out a small laugh.

  “I’m sorry. Old saying of my dad’s. It slips out sometimes. And don’t repeat that, young man,” She said, nudging the still-smiling boy. He nodded once but the grin didn’t fade.

  When they were all finished with their makeshift breakfast, Quinn took the plates to the kitchen and Alice followed him while Ty pulled on his socks and shoes.

  “I hate to ask you, but you wouldn’t have a vehicle to spare, would you?” Alice said. “I noticed the other homes on the way in and didn’t know if they had cars.”

  “You’re leaving this morning?”

  “We should. I spoke to my mom right after this all started. She was having a good day, knew who I was and where she was, but that might’ve changed by the afternoon. I would’ve went sooner, but it all happened so fast.”

  “It was like a wildfire,” Quinn said, gazing at the floor. One of the brothers’ boot prints was still there, faded and ghostly.

  “Exactly. I have to know if she’s okay or not.”

  Quinn glanced at her, the set to her jaw and the way her eyes lanced the room with their brightness.

  “Graham has a car, but it’s really small and sporty. Mallory has a minivan, since she nearly always made the runs into town for groceries.” Quinn looked at his hands and then out the window. “But if you’re set on leaving today, you should take the Tahoe in the garage. It’s the newest and has four-wheel-drive.”

  “But that’s your car. We can’t take yours.”

  “I’ve got the other two. You guys need the Tahoe.”

  “Quinn, no—”

  “Look, you have people to worry about and I don’t.”

  Alice opened her mouth to say something and stopped. He turned and shuffled the dishes around on the counter into a pile, keeping his back to her.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

  “What?”

  “Helping us?”

  He faced her, not able to hold her gaze for more than a second. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” When she merely studied him, he motioned to the rear of the house. “I’ll try to get the generator running so you can take some water with you, have a shower or a bath too if you’d like.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Grabbing the manual from the counter and dislodging the ice chisel from beneath the kitchen doorknob, he walked outside.

  The day was cool again, but the clouds were gone, and an unblemished powder-blue-sky awaited him. He stayed still for over a minute on the stoop, studying the trees and listening for any movement. When nothing but birds flitted in the very tops of the pines, he stepped down into the yard. Dew soaked his shoes within steps, but he barely noticed. There would be a lot to do to get Alice and Ty ready to leave. Then it would be just him, alone again in the big house. He and the three graves.

  The wind was negligible, and the waves coasting in below the cliffs were murmurs as he rounded the house and opened the generator enclosure. After ten minutes of reading, he saw nothing that was indicative of the generator’s inability to run. He tried hitting the start button again, but it merely produced the same dry click. There were four twist-locks set into a panel below the controls, and he undid them, setting the loose piece of steel to the side before crouching to look into the generator’s housing. All was fuses and bundles of wires leading into darkness within the shroud. The more he studied the components, the more they blended together into one confusing mass. He sat there, staring at the alien mechanics of the machine, while all he could see was the open road beyond the gates—the breeze blowing in through the window of the Tahoe coating his skin as they drove, trees whipping past in a blur of green on either side.

  He blinked, coming back to the present. His ankle throbbed from the position he sat in, and his legs were cramping. He was about to return the panel to its former position and lock it home when he spotted a wide, plastic switch set above a row of long fuses. There were no markings on or around it, and when he put pressure on it, there was resistance. He pushed harder, and the switch snapped in the direction he pressed it. There was an electrical click of contactors engaging, and the generator’s engine cranked into life. The entire enclosure resounded with the machine’s vibrations as the engine rose to a steady hum.

  “Yes!” Quinn said, his eyes widening.

  He replaced the panel cover and climbed free of the housing. With the door shut, the machine’s growl became much lower, and when he rounded the side of the house, it was lost to him completely.

  In the garage, he climbed into the Tahoe and keyed the ignition on. The fuel gauge sprung to a hair’s width of the full mark. His father must have filled up in Portland before coming home. He found two semi-full gas cans in one corner and loaded them in the back, leaving the hatch cracked for the fumes. He was about to go into the house when he spotted a small, wooden dowel sitting on one of the shelves. It stuck out from beneath a pile of loose lumber that Foster kept for odd projects. When he pulled it free, he measured it by holding it out before him in one hand. In the drawer of the workbench, he found a roll of black electrical tape and carefully wrapped the dowel until none of the wood was visible. He tested the strength one time, bending it. It sprung back into a straight line.

  When he entered the house, Alice was giving Ty a bath, the door partially open. She noticed him in the hallway and turned from where she knelt beside the tub.

  “Saw the lights come on and thought I’d better get the rug rat clean before we go. No telling when he’ll get another hot bath. Thank God for instant hot water heaters, huh?”

  “That’s for sure,” Quinn said, leaning the dowel against the wall. She looked down at it then back to his face.

  “I told you you didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I saw it and…it only took a minute.”

  Alice started to say something else but stopped and turned back to Ty who was gathering bubbles before him like a sudsy blanket and running his palms over the top, popping many as he did so. Quinn hesitated for a moment and then went to the kitchen and began to clean the dirty dishes in the sink.

  When the dishes were clean, he swept the floor and wiped down the counters, his hands having to do something as his thoughts wandered. Besides, Mallory and Graham would’ve hated seeing the kitchen this dirty.

  No sounds came from down the hall. It was as if his guests had already left, the house was empty again, and he was alone. He dumped the dustpan into the garbage and stared out the window at the beautiful spring day. The trees were motionless and he could make out a few faint buds of green and red at the tips of their branches. The forest would change fast from a skeletal domain to an emerald expanse, hiding the house from the rest of the world until fall stripped the trees bare again. The snows would come along with the wind that never seemed to quit blowing during the winter. And where would he be? Here. In the house by himself, huddled around the fireplace eating whatever canned good he could find. And where would they be?

  The sound of Alice entering the room br
ought him free of his trance and he turned to her.

  “We’re pretty much ready to go,” she said. Her voice was even. Not unkind but not friendly either.

  “I’m coming with you.” The words had escaped him before he knew he’d spoken, and only the startled look on Alice’s face made him realize what he’d said. “I mean, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to come with. At least to Portland. There’s barely any food left here, and I’m going to have to go at some point.”

  “No.” Her reply was flat, and she crossed her arms as if barricading herself against any argument.

  “You don’t trust me,” Quinn said, setting the broom and dustpan aside.

  “I don’t trust anyone except that little guy in the other room.”

  “If I had wanted to hurt you, I could’ve last night while you slept.”

  “You could’ve tried. The thing is, I don’t know you or what your game is.”

  “I don’t have a game.”

  “Everyone has a game.”

  “What’s yours?”

  Alice looked away at the wall and then back at him. “Keeping my son alive.”

  “I can help. If there’s as many of those things as you say there are, then you’ll need backup. Especially once you get into town.”

  “We don’t need anyone. Do you understand?”

  She spun on her heel and was about to the leave room but stopped short as Ty entered the doorway, tapping the area in front of him with the dowel.

  “I found this in the hall. Did you make this for me, mom?”

  Quinn held his breath, looking from Alice to Ty’s small face. The boy moved the dowel around and prodded his mother’s foot with it.

  “Mom?”

  Her shoulders dropped, and she reached out, rubbing Ty’s damp hair with her fingers.

  “No, Quinn made it for you.”

  “Oh. Thanks, Quinn! It works really good!”

  “You’re welcome, Ty.”

  The boy felt his way out of the kitchen and disappeared into the living room. Alice stood like a statue for a long minute before she faced him again.

  “Just to Portland. After that we’ll find another vehicle for us and we part ways. Got it?”

  Quinn nodded, and Alice left him standing alone in the gentle sunshine of the kitchen.

  ~

  He spent the rest of the morning gathering anything of use outside while Alice packed the Tahoe with blankets and towels as well as gallon jugs full of water she filled from the kitchen tap. Quinn brought the gas cans from the back of the Tahoe to Graham’s garage as well as a screwdriver and hammer. He laid beneath the small sports car and pounded a hole through the bottom of the gas tank, letting it drain slowly into a large bread pan he found in the house before transferring it to a can. When the cans were full, he hauled them out to the main drive, leaving them there for when they left. The wind rose and whistled through the bare branches of the trees, its touch chilling him as he walked down the drive. He was leaving his home for the very first time. The thought brought goose bumps to his arms. He rubbed them away, but there was no way to calm the excited knot that had formed in his stomach. Even with the layer of heavy grief covering him and the insecurity the outside world offered, the sense of freedom was tangible, like something he could almost grasp and pull out of the cool air.

  Inside his father’s office, he found a full box of shells for the XDM and an extra magazine. He tucked them both into a small cloth bag that he slung over his shoulder and paused at the doorway before coming back to the desk. Inside the top drawer was his father’s leather day planner. At the very back was a list of phone numbers. Most were marked only with a first name or initials, all of which were unfamiliar to him. At the bottom of the page were two addresses. One was a strange jumble of Spanish with a city he had never heard of while the other was in English, a town listed that Foster had told him about several times.

  “Newton, Pennsylvania,” he said to the empty room. With a tug, he pulled the piece of paper free and was about to stand when his gaze landed on a framed picture at the corner of the desk. It was of he and his father sitting side by side on the cliff facing the ocean. His father’s arm was slung around his small shoulders. The sea was white-capped and angry looking, but their posture was relaxed, at ease with nature and each other. He couldn’t have been more than ten in the picture. The memory of he and Teresa sitting in almost the exact same place only days ago washed over him, and he reached out to grasp the frame. He stopped, his fingers sliding against the smooth glass, tracing the memory for a long moment before he stood.

  He rounded the desk and was about to leave the room but turned back and grasped the picture, placing it gently in the bag beside the shells. He hovered on the threshold for a long time, his eyes running over the surfaces and objects, each one spurring a memory that played out and bled into the next. When his vision began to cloud, he reached out and closed the door without a sound.

  “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

  Alice’s voice startled him, and he turned to find her watching him from down the hall.

  “What?”

  “Leaving. I got the same way on the last trip out of our shitty, little apartment. Can you believe that?”

  He nodded and looked around the house. “I’m coming back though.”

  “That’s what I told myself too.”

  He made a last circuit through his home, stopping, remembering, if for only a moment. He avoided the solarium completely. The days spent with Teresa there were cherished memories, and he didn’t want to taint them with how the room looked now.

  At last he followed Alice and Ty out to the garage, giving the hall one last look before closing the door.

  “Want me to drive?” Alice asked, leading Ty to the rear driver’s side.

  “Sure. I just need a minute,” Quinn said, stowing his bag in the open hatch before crossing the sunlit yard.

  He stopped beneath the tree at the foot of the three graves, one so much longer than the other two. He closed his eyes for a time and wavered there, an urge to return to the house and stay almost overpowering. But the invisible ties slowly broke as he knelt and put his hands in turn on the exposed dirt.

  “I’ll be okay,” he whispered.

  The sound of Alice backing the Tahoe from the garage pulled him to his feet. The three crosses stood silent in the shade of the tree. He slowly turned from his family, eyes not wanting to look away, and walked to the garage, shutting the door before rounding the house and turning off the generator. When he climbed inside the SUV, Alice gazed at him for a time before putting the vehicle into drive. Quinn watched the yard coast away and the house slide from view in his mirror.

  They paused at Graham’s drive and picked up the gas cans before stopping at the broken gates. Quinn climbed out and opened one side, a strange sensation running through him as he walked on ground he never had before. The road was quiet beyond in either direction, and the air was cool, full of the scent of growing things. Alice pulled through the gate and waited for him to close it behind the Tahoe. When he climbed inside, she watched him again.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Ready!” Ty called from the back seat.

  Quinn let out an unsteady breath. “Ready.”

  Alice guided the SUV onto the open road, and he inhaled deeply as his home fell away behind them.

  Chapter 11

  Portland

  The sun beat against the blacktop as they cruised between the blanketing forest on either side of the turnpike.

  Quinn watched out the window, taking in each tree, each shadow, every animal that flitted between branches or rushed into dry grass. Ahead¸ the turnpike ran on in an unending line broken only by hills and the occasional curve. A few cars dotted its broad back, pulled neatly to one side or simply stalled in the center of one lane. After the first three they passed, Quinn quit trying to make out the occupants, the interiors of the cars blurred by the reflecting sun and the speed by which Alice drove. He was about t
o suggest stopping at the next stilled vehicle when Alice spoke.

  “It’s better not to look.”

  Ty sang to himself in the back seat, his voice a high falsetto that came out surprisingly beautiful. After a time, Quinn turned to Alice, tipping his head toward the melody that poured quietly out of the little boy.

  “He’s singing OneRepublic.”

  Alice nodded, her eyes never leaving the road. “He sings whatever I listen to or what’s on the radio. He’s got an unbelievable memory.”

  “He’s got an unbelievable voice.”

  “I can hear you talking about me up there. I’m blind, not deaf,” Ty said, as he paused between lyrics.

  Quinn laughed and put a hand over his mouth while Alice’s eyebrows came up and she glanced in the rearview mirror.

  “You watch that sassiness, mister.”

  Ty giggled and began to sing again.

  A stilt burst from the right-hand tree line and ran up the embankment toward the Tahoe.

  “Shit!” Alice yelled, swerving hard to the left.

  The stilt flew toward them. Its long, bony limbs pumping, broken teeth bared in its oblong face. Its eyes stared into Quinn’s, locking there with hunger. The driver’s side tires cut into the grass and gravel beside the turnpike as the stilt reached for the SUV.

  They hit its outstretched arm at sixty miles per hour.

  The appendage ripped off at the creature’s shoulder with a wet thump, spraying Quinn’s window with crimson and fleshy shrapnel. It spun once in the center of the highway and fell to its knees, a gout of arterial blood jetting out and coating the road. It stared after them, unmoving, until they crested the next hill and dropped down the opposite side.

  Alice and Quinn let out a held, collected breath.

  “Where the fuck did that come from?” she asked.

  “From the woods. It was just there all of a sudden.”

  “Fuck they move fast.”

  “It was waiting,” Quinn said, shifting so he could see through the back window. Ty had quit singing and was staring straight ahead, fingers gripping his seat belt.