Cruel World Read online

  “Yep, they die just like we do. Where’s Ty?”

  “Sleeping. I made a bed in the room across the hall for him.”

  “Good. Did you see I parked the Tahoe below the window?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “If we have to leave in the middle of the night, we can go out the window and land on the top of it. Then we don’t have to go out the back door. Easy escape route.”

  Alice appraised him, jutting her bottom lip out like he’d seen her do when she agreed with something.

  “That works. You already checked the window?”

  “Yeah, it opens nice and wide, and it’s already unlocked.”

  “Good. We’ll find another vehicle we can take tomorrow before we go look for mom.”

  Quinn hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. When do you want to go?”

  “In the morning, before noon. That’ll give us enough time to get somewhere safe by sundown, and for you to get home.” She looked at him, and he kept his face slack, not meeting her gaze but instead watching the quiet homes across the street.

  “Perfect,” he finally said.

  “Perfect,” she echoed and moved to the door. “I’ll get some food going.” He nodded once and heard her move down the hallway to the stairs. His eyes roamed the cars lining the second street over. A shadow was slumped against the steering wheel of a late model minivan. Unmoving. The entire world seemed to have stilled in the evening light.

  “Perfect,” he said to the empty room.

  ~

  They ate sitting on the floor of the kitchen, Ty at Alice’s side and Quinn across from them. Quinn’s meal was a type of Mediterranean chicken, spicy and not at all dry like he’d thought it would be. Although they weren’t able to warm the food in anything since there were no appliances in the house, everyone’s food disappeared quickly, and there was little talk between bites. When they finished, Alice wrapped the disposable containers in a garbage bag she found beneath the kitchen sink and set it in a corner.

  “To keep the smell down,” she said when he looked at the bag.

  They moved into the living room, and Quinn opened one of the windows looking out into the front yard, leaning his rifle against the wall beside it. Alice brought a blanket from the small pile of supplies in the kitchen and draped it over Ty, who smiled as she sat down beside him on the living room floor.

  “It’s going to get cold tonight,” Alice said, hugging Ty close to her side. Quinn glanced at her and then at the gas fireplace mounted in the living room wall.

  “I’ll get this started,” he said, moving to kneel before the glass front. “If the power’s on, I’m guessing the gas will be too.”

  “What about the flames? You’d be able to see them from the street,” Alice said.

  “Not until it gets darker. Then we can pull the shades and throw blankets over the windows facing the neighborhood.”

  Quinn fiddled with the gas valve beneath the decorative, ceramic logs until he heard a small whoosh. He pushed the red button and listened to the distinctive click of an electric starter. Flames erupted out of the fireplace and he felt the hair on his arms shrivel beneath its touch.

  “Damn,” he said, sitting back. Alice made a surprised grunt and then snorted once. When he looked at her, her face was lit with the same smile he’d seen in Thor’s armory. “Are my eyebrows still there?” he asked. This made Alice laugh harder, and Ty giggled. “Glad I can be of amusement,” he said, moving back to his post beside the window. After a time, Alice and Ty grew quiet and only the calls of chickadees and the occasional Blue Jay filtered in from outside.

  “Can we play a game?” Ty asked just when Quinn thought the boy had fallen asleep.

  “What kind of game?” Alice said.

  “I don’t know, something fun.”

  “Sorry, champ. I’m fresh out of board games.”

  “We could play reflex,” Quinn said.

  “What’s that?” Ty asked.

  “It’s word association. My dad called it reflex when I was little. Like if I say, blue, what’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”

  “Mom says the sky’s blue, and so’s the ocean sometimes.”

  Quinn felt his face grow hot as Alice narrowed her eyes at him. Had he just asked a blind boy what he associated with a color?

  “Yeah, like that. Here, how about dog?” Quinn said, barreling on as embarrassment tried to constrict his throat.

  “Friend,” Ty answered almost immediately.

  “There you go. Okay Alice, your turn.”

  “I don’t want to play.”

  “Come on, mom!” Ty protested. Alice gave Quinn a withering look and sighed.

  “Okay, hit me, Quinn.”

  “Blue Jay,” he said, hearing the bird’s shrill call again in the distance.

  “Annoying,” Alice said. Quinn laughed.

  “Yeah, they can be that.”

  “Car,” Ty said, sitting forward.

  “Tahoe,” Quinn said, glancing out of the window.

  “Mom, you go. Tree.”

  “Grow.”

  “Elephant,” Quinn said.

  “Big!” Ty exclaimed.

  “Shhh, Ty. We have to keep our voices down,” Alice said.

  “No fun,” Ty said, half smiling.

  “What? Keeping our voices down?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied, grinning as his sightless eyes stared at the floor.

  “Maine,” Quinn said.

  “Home,” Ty answered.

  “Ocean,” Alice asked, looking directly at Quinn.

  “Freedom,” he said. “Beer.”

  “Good,” Alice said, and Ty laughed, his head following their voices. “Steak.”

  “Delightful. Flowers,” Quinn shot back.

  “A waste. Dancing.”

  “Can’t. Trust.”

  “A waste. Guns.”

  “Loud. Love.”

  “Myth. Death.”

  “Scary. Fire,” Quinn said, glancing at the flames. Alice opened her mouth and then shut it, her eyes wide, looking past him, through him.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said finally and stood, moving through the doorway and out of sight. A moment later there was the quiet closing of a door. Quinn watched the hallway where she’d disappeared, his brow furrowed. It was only when Ty touched his arm that he realized the boy had risen and crossed the room to him. Quinn gazed down into Ty’s eyes, their focus swimming and watery. His irises were so blue and bright, even beneath the thin veil of gray film they were hard to look at.

  “Bend down,” Ty said, tugging his arm. Quinn obliged, tilting his head to one side to accept the secret the boy was undoubtedly about to tell him.

  One of Ty’s hands, small and airy, grazed his face.

  Quinn jerked away, standing up so suddenly Ty nearly fell backward. The boy’s eyes were as wide as his mother’s had been before she left the room.

  “I just wanted to know what you looked like,” Ty said. His voice was small, uneven.

  “Sorry. You…I’m just,” Quinn said and looked up as Alice stepped into the room. She glanced from Ty to him and then back again, understanding slowly gracing her features.

  “Ty, let’s get you ready for bed,” she said.

  “But it’s early, and I took a nap.”

  “Tyrus...”

  “Okay.”

  Alice handed him the tape-wrapped dowel, and he shuffled out of the room, tapping with the makeshift cane. Alice hesitated for a moment and then followed him toward the bathroom. Quinn cursed under his breath and faced the window again, watching the dead neighborhood.

  ~

  It was full dark by the time Ty fell asleep in the upstairs bedroom. Quinn had drawn all the curtains an hour before and hung an extra blanket over the window closest to the fireplace in the living room. With the flames set to low, only a slight glow rippled behind the glass, squat shadows dancing on the new carpet beyond the mantle.

  Quinn sat before it, the AR-15 on th
e floor beside him. He’d watched the streets in front of the house until the daylight faded to nothing, like an oil lamp being turned down. The buildings blended with the trees into amorphous shapes, and the streetlamps came on near the neighboring commune of houses, scattering the shadows beneath the hedges and benches lining the sidewalks. He threw a glance at the sliding door opening to the back yard, assuring himself that the two-by-four he’d found in the garage and jammed into the frame would be sufficient as a lock.

  Unless someone really wants to get in. Or some thing.

  He brushed the thoughts away as Alice returned to the living room, her own weapon hanging from a sling she’d attached to it earlier in the afternoon. She sat down a step away, folding her legs beneath her like a child awaiting story time. In the flickering light, she appeared even younger. Before he could stop himself, the question fell from his mouth.

  “How old are you?”

  Alice turned her head toward him, coating one half of her face in light and the other in darkness.

  “How old do you think I am?”

  “I’m not answering that.”

  She smiled. “Smart guy.” After a long pause, she looked back at the fire. “Twenty three. How about you?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Not even drinking age yet.”

  “Nope.”

  “I could tell you weren’t much of a drinker.”

  “I could tell you were.”

  “Touché.” She fingered the stock of her rifle and turned to him again. “I’m sorry if Ty made you uncomfortable earlier. It’s just how he sees people…”

  Quinn shook his head. “It’s fine. I didn’t…”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Didn’t want to scare him,” Quinn finished, throwing Alice a look before rising to peer out of the window. When he was satisfied that the street was quiet, he sat down again.

  “You wouldn’t scare him. He’s a whole lot more mature than I give him credit for. It’s probably my fault he is that way.”

  “I would say that’s an advantage now with how everything is. Things aren’t going to get back to normal for a long time. If ever.”

  “Yeah,” Alice said, flipping her sling back and forth with a fingertip. He watched her for a moment, gauging whether or not to ask the question that had been in the back of his mind since the night before. He glanced at her left hand, and she caught him looking. “No, I’m not married,” she said, waggling her fingers. “Never was.”

  “I thought he might’ve gotten lost in all this and you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Alice huffed and shook her head. “I hope so, wherever the bastard is.” Something told him to remain silent, so he did. After another drawn out pause, she spoke in a low monotone. “He was an exchange student from Spain, came our junior year of high school. He was going to be a pro soccer player, or ‘futbol’ as he always insisted. He was so cocky, so sure of himself, it was almost off-putting. But there was something else there beneath that façade. He had a love for life I’d never seen before. He wanted to see the world, try new things. The way he was so open and honest and fearless, it was disarming. Charming even,” she said, stabbing a finger into the carpet.

  “I got pregnant, and he left the next month. Never looked back, never answered any of my calls or emails. His parents vouched for him, always said he was ‘out’ or at a futbol tournament. I let them have it one day and told them that their son had gotten me pregnant and then ran away. They hung up on me and then changed their number.”

  “Wow,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah, wow’s putting it fucking lightly. Not that I need a man around to run things or take care of me, actually the opposite, but I would’ve at least liked for him to know he had a son, that he has his hair, and that he’s blind.”

  Alice flipped the sling hard, and it made a little snapping sound in the silent room.

  “Doesn’t sound like he was fearless,” Quinn finally said. “Sounds like he was a coward.”

  Her hands quit flipping the sling and her lips opened as if she were going to make a rebuttal but a scream rang out from the street, cutting her off.

  They stared at one another in the dancing light before Quinn lunged forward, scrambling with the doors and then twisting the gas valve off. The flames flickered then receded like snakes returning to their burrows. The room fell into complete darkness as another yell cut the night. Accompanying it came the deep resonance that was more of a vibration than a call.

  Alice swung the sling she’d been toying with over her head and raced up the stairs, disappearing into the hall as Quinn made his way to the window. He drew the blanket aside but saw nothing moving. The scream came again. Human, definitely human.

  “Quinn!” Alice hissed from the top of the stairs.

  “Yeah?”

  “Get up here.”

  He hurried across the room, tripping on the first stair before launching himself up the carpeted treads. Alice was only an outline in the dark. Her hand brushed his chest and slid down his arm to his hand. A ripple of goose bumps flowed outward from where she’d touched him, but there was barely time to register the sensation before she led him soundlessly into the front bedroom where the drapes were drawn apart revealing a swath of cold light.

  “Look, across the street in the clearing,” Alice said, half guiding, half shoving him to the window. Quinn stepped close to the sill and gazed out into the night. At first he saw nothing, but then movement snagged his attention, flitting in and out of the shadows in the meadow before the neighboring street.

  A pair of figures ran, except ran was the wrong word—they hobbled. And after a second of scrutinizing, Quinn saw they were elderly, their hair reflecting gray as they passed through shafts of streetlight, their steps unsure and slowed by the fact that they were holding hands.

  “Oh no,” Quinn said, squinting, trying to see through the gloom.

  The couple kept looking over their shoulders as they stumbled on, and that’s when the first stilt stepped from between the trees behind them. It was hunched over, as if arthritic, but still loomed well above the two people that scurried away from it. It made the deep burping sound that now brought the image of a thick swamp filled with reptilian life to Quinn’s mind. To the right, ahead of the couple, a loud bark came from the darkness and then a second stilt moved into view, this one much taller than the first, and healthy looking. It took a step toward the people, its thin arms stretching out wide as if to accept them into an embrace. It may have been a trick of the light, but Quinn could’ve sworn he saw a cruel smile flash across its misshapen face.

  “They’re trapped,” Quinn said, gripping his rifle. “We have to do something.”

  Alice latched onto his arm as he tried to turn away from the window.

  “Stop. Look,” she said, pointing to the left.

  Two more stilts approached from the end of the street, their long gaits pulling them toward the couple in flowing strides. Another appeared from behind the house to their right, unnervingly close and so tall it could have easily looked into the window they gazed out of.

  Quinn leaned back from the glass, the sight of the stilt closest to them sending a freezing lance through his spine. They were so quiet. The elderly couple were in the center of the clearing now, the man’s arm tight around the woman’s shoulders. She was crying, long pitiful sobs of the hopeless that slid in through the windowpane. Slowly she sank to her knees, the man unable to hold her up any longer. He drew out something that glinted in the low light, bracing it with both hands at the hunched over monster closest to them.

  A tongue of flame leapt from the pistol in his hands, and the stilt shaped like a question mark, straightened up and threw its head back. A deep howl of pain came from its mouth and it began clawing at its chest, but it walked on, closing the distance between it and the man. He fired again, this time at one of the stilts approaching from the left, but he must have missed since they barely broke their long strides and neither of them cried out. A war
bling hiss, that sounded something like a cicada in the hottest part of summer, came from the rest of the monsters, the circle formed by their number growing closer, tighter, like a noose around the couple. The woman moaned, and Quinn could make out interspersed words of prayer between sobs. The man spun in a circle, aiming at each stilt but not pulling the trigger.

  “We have to help them,” Quinn said, beginning to ease the window open.

  “Stop. We can’t; there’s too many. Besides, the shots will attract more of them.” When he started to protest again, she squeezed his forearm. “We don’t have scopes on these. We’ll miss in the dark and they’ll overwhelm us. They’ll get inside. They’ll get Ty.” Quinn’s mouth opened to argue, but the pleading look on her face was like a shadow all its own.

  Another gunshot pulled their attention back to the meadow. The injured stilt had been shot again and fallen. It crawled forward like some extended insect searching for a carcass to invade. The rest of the creatures didn’t appear to be afraid of the man or his weapon in the least. They moved closer, cinching the circle smaller until they were almost in reaching distance.

  The woman shook and the man stood above her, his head snapping back and forth, trying to watch all of the stilts at once. A moment before he did it, Quinn knew what he was going to do.

  With a jerky motion, the man aimed the gun at the woman’s head and pulled the trigger, his scream mingling with the thunder of the shot. She slumped sideways at his feet and without waiting, he tucked the barrel beneath his chin and pulled the trigger again.

  The final gunshot resounded in the clearing and the man fell in a heap on top of his wife. The stilts paused before moving in closer. The tallest, that had come from behind the house next door, swiped a long arm at the next closest creature, sending it slinking back a step before dropping to its hands and knees. It brought its head down to the bodies, and even from the distance that separated them, Quinn could hear it inhale like a chef sniffing a steaming dish.

  When the lead stilt lowered its head and began to feed, Quinn turned away, drawing the part in the curtains shut. His stomach roiled, and the Mediterranean chicken resurfaced in the back of his throat, tasting like an acidic semblance of its original flavor that sickened him further.