Cruel World Page 18

  “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.”

  Edgar glanced over his shoulder and watched the SUV for a minute before focusing on him again. “No one else?”

  “No, just us.”

  “I’d tend not to believe you at any other time, but finding more than a couple people these days is uncommon. You say you came from Portland?”

  “I did.”

  “What’s it like over there?”

  “The same, quite a few of…” He stumbled for a second, not wanting to irritate the man. “…the people that turned, but only a few that haven’t.”

  Edgar sucked on his lower lip. “I could’ve guessed. I was just hoping, that’s all. The people I’ve seen have been less than friendly so far. That’s why I welcomed you the way I did.” He gazed at the floor and then brought his eyes back to meet Quinn’s. “Where you going?”

  Quinn hesitated. “Iowa. An army base in Fort Dodge. It’s supposed to be the last stand for the military, or so we’ve heard.”

  “Iowa? I suppose it’s the center of the nation, makes sense I guess. I’d ask to accompany you but my place is here. Can’t leave them…” His voice trailed off, and he gazed at the darkened wall, bringing his eyes back to Quinn as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Here, let me help you load up. You can take my box; it’s already full of food. I’m sure you’ll want some water too?”

  “That would be great, but I don’t want to take your supplies from you.”

  Edgar nodded. “Good thing about old man Rogers who used to own this place, before he turned into a pile of goo, that is, he always kept lots of stores downstairs. There’s plenty for me, don’t worry about it.”

  They moved to the rear of the building, and Quinn carried the box of food while Edgar hauled a pack of water with one arm, the opposite hand gripping his shotgun. When he strode out of the store into the sunlight, Alice’s eyes widened at the sight of the man behind him, but he gave her a reassuring nod. It’s okay, don’t worry. She adjusted herself in the seat to watch their progress as they loaded the supplies into the rear of the Tahoe.

  “You’re fairly well set there,” Edgar said, stepping back on the curb. “Got most of the essentials anyways.”

  “Yeah, we got lucky, I’ll say that.”

  “Well, I hope your luck continues,” Edgar said, holding out a thick hand for him to shake again. Quinn grasped it and was about to say he needed to grab a few more things since they would be taking another vehicle, when the side of Edgar’s face collapsed.

  A warm spray coated Quinn’s skin, and he blinked through a sudden red haze, tasting the other man’s blood.

  Edgar’s head had fallen in, and several shards of yellow teeth hung in a congealed mass below one shredded eye. The opposite side of his face was only a gaping hole from which a torrent of blood ran. The sheriff’s hand squeezed hard, crushing his fingers in a death grip. Then the man’s short legs buckled, and he went down, splashing what was left of his brain matter against the sandy sidewalk.

  A howling whine came from a step away, and a chunk of concrete exploded from the curb. The air beside Quinn’s face was hot, and his skin vibrated with the passage of the bullet.

  “Get down!” Alice screamed, and he didn’t know if she was yelling at him or Ty. Probably both. Edgar twitched on the ground once and was still as all the strength went out of Quinn’s legs and he slumped against the side of the Tahoe. There was another buzzing sound as a third round clipped the top of the vehicle to his left. The air was stifling, burning in his lungs as he slunk around the side of the SUV and pawed at the driver’s door. The rear hatch was still open. He ran to it, whipping it down before ducking back to the open driver’s door. Alice was firing from her window at the top of the water tower where the dark outline of a man rested against one of the railings.

  “Gogogogo!” she yelled, and squeezed off another two shots as he slammed his door shut.

  Quinn threw the Tahoe into drive and hammered the gas pedal. A hole appeared in the windshield, and the center console between them exploded in a shower of plastic. He had time to see the man on the tower waving his arm and pointing before two trucks roared onto the street behind them from an alley.

  Quinn swung the SUV left in the main intersection and blazed down the street. Ahead, two cop cars were parked diagonally with sawhorses blocking the gaps between them. Quinn brought the Tahoe up over the curb and onto the sidewalk, the passenger mirror ripping away as they passed a light pole. Gunfire began to chatter behind them, and the rear window shattered, raining diamonds onto their supplies. He shifted his eyes up to see the first truck follow his lead onto the sidewalk, one figure behind the wheel while two stood in its box, both leaning over the cab with rifles pointed forward.

  “Quinn,” Alice said beside him. She was hunkered down, half-turned in the seat with one arm covering Ty who lay on the floorboards. “Don’t let them catch us.” He tried to answer but more gunfire erupted behind them and a round punched through the windshield beside the first hole.

  The main street they were on exited Belford and became a county road, cracked and weathered with heavy forest to either side. Quinn accelerated off of the sidewalk and brought the Tahoe up to eighty-five. The trucks fell back but then began to close the gap, the faces of the men in the closest vehicle taking on cruel details; black sunglasses and wild hair whipping in the wind. A bald man in the rear of the first truck took aim, and Quinn slid to the side as the shot ripped the rearview mirror from its mounting. Whoops and yells came from behind them. There was an animalistic wheezing inside the SUV, and it took a moment for Quinn to realize he was making it. He swallowed, trying to calm his frantic breathing while he searched the sides of the highway. The road curved then straightened, and he presse
d the pedal all the way down. The needle climbed past one hundred miles per hour. He threw a glance at the driver’s side mirror and saw the trucks keeping pace behind them.

  “Alice, I need you to get the map open on your phone and find a curvy road near here,” he said as more shots zipped past the Tahoe like angry hornets.

  “What?”

  “Find a road that has curves. Do it, now!”

  Alice fumbled with her phone. “There’s a drive coming up on the left in half a mile, take it.”

  “Give us some room. Shoot back at the bastards.”

  Alice patted Ty once, telling him to stay down, then slowly sat up in her seat and brought the AR-15 to bear. The rifle boomed three times, filling the car with acrid smoke. Wheels screeched behind them, and the lead truck slewed across the road before coming back to center, its grille shrinking in the side mirror. A gap in the trees opened on the left side, and Quinn hammered the brakes, spinning the wheel at the same time.

  The Tahoe rocked sickeningly on its springs as gravity came and went. The two wheels that had lifted from the pavement resettled, and Quinn guided them onto a small, paved drive cutting through the forest. Homes appeared and vanished behind trees as he accelerated again, glancing once into the side mirror. The mouth of the drive was empty for a beat and then filled with the bulk of the first truck, skidding sideways as they had done, before straightening out and speeding after them. Quinn focused again on the street, the adrenaline turning his nerves to livewires.

  “Where’s the next sharp corner?” he yelled. The air howled through the bullet holes in the windshield, coursing through the glassless back hatch. His eyes watered. Alice pulled her gaze away from the pursuing truck and punched at her phone.

  “One mile, there’s a sharp right-hand corner.”

  He nodded as another handful of bullets thunked into the rear of the Tahoe. Quinn pushed the throttle harder, the engine screaming beneath the hood.

  “When I tell you, empty your magazine at them,” he said, throwing a look at the side mirror.

  “We won’t last much longer. They’re going to shoot our tires out.”

  “No, they’re having too much fun for that. Trust me, okay?” He yanked his eyes away from the road and locked his gaze with Alice’s. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  The bend was coming up, its sharp corner a wall of old-growth pines larger than a man could put his arms around. He pushed the gas harder.

  “Quinn?” Alice said.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Quinn!”

  “Shoot. Now!”

  Alice spun in her seat and began blasting at the truck behind them. Quinn’s damaged ear rang with each concussion, the gunshots so loud they filled up the world. The lead truck jerked to the side as Alice fired, avoiding the rounds, and revealed the second vehicle directly behind it.

  The trailing truck’s windshield spiderwebbed, and the left headlight burst. The front wheels jerked to the right and bit into the gravel at the edge of the ditch. The truck left the road, roared up the opposing bank, and collided with a towering oak. Quinn caught a flash of something man-shaped blasting through the broken windshield, but then the curve was there and his foot was on the brake, the steering wheel shuddering like something dying in his hands. Alice screamed, ducking low to hold onto Ty as the boy shrieked for her. The back end of the Tahoe skidded, the street like ice beneath the tires. None of them were wearing seatbelts. They would all be thrown free when the big SUV rolled and smashed into the pines. There would be pain and then nothing. This life and then the wide ocean. He could almost see his father’s eyes looking at him through the cracked windshield, feel Teresa’s hug.

  The driveway was there on the right, his eyes finding it, latching onto it as he kept the wheel cranked. His foot left the brake and found the gas, the rear tires sliding and then catching on the shoulder of the road before peeling free. They shot off the street and onto the driveway, barely missing a conglomeration of mailboxes mounted on a steel pole. He slammed his foot down, and the brakes screeched again as they came to a stop.

  “What are you doing?” Alice yelled.

  Quinn threw the transmission into reverse, listening to the sound of the approaching truck over his rushing blood as he craned his neck around and stared through the empty back hatch. The remaining truck’s blue paint flashed between the trees on the corner and Quinn punched the gas.

  They rocketed backwards, coming even with the road as the truck passed by. The rear end of the Tahoe met the truck’s passenger side in a furious impact of glass and steel. Quinn’s head snapped backward, meeting the seat’s headrest hard enough for flashes of light to flicker in his vision. Alice rose in her seat, and he snagged her arm, holding her tight while she tried to cover Ty with her body. There was a shriek of shredding metal and then they were still as the truck continued down the road sideways, its tires catching and turning to the sky. Sparks flew as the truck flipped over and coasted to a stop on its hood, the cab rumpled into a flattened mass.

  The Tahoe’s engine chugged and hissed, vibrations shaking the wheel beneath his numb fingers. He watched the truck for movement, his vision shuddering with each thunderous heartbeat. When no one climbed from the wreckage, he turned and found Alice still crouched over Ty in the rear foot space.

  “Are you guys okay?”

  Alice sat up, a dazed sheen covering her white face. A thin line of blood ran down from her right temple, and her eyes were clouded, blinking slow and methodical. Ty rose from beneath her, peeling himself from his mother’s embrace.

  “I’m okay, mom; I’m okay.”

  “Does anything hurt?” Quinn asked, his gaze beginning to run frantic over their forms, searching for a gaping cut or the hump of a broken bone. They were uninjured.

  “I think we’re okay,” Alice said, swallowing. She coughed once and winced, holding her ribs. “Side hurts, though.”

  “Can you walk?” Quinn said.

  “Yeah.”

  They climbed from the Tahoe, Ty from the opposite side since his door was jammed shut from the crash. The ringing hadn’t left Quinn’s head, and he shook it as he paced down the center of the sunlit road, cradling his rifle in both hands.

  The truck ticked and pinged as the overheated metal cooled. Antifreeze and oil pooled beneath the hood, mixing into an evil, dark-orange puddle. He found the first body in the ditch. The man had struck the road and slid for a dozen yards before coming to a stop. Any features with which Quinn could’ve determined his age had been scraped away by the pavement. As he made to move past the corpse to the next body in the ditch, a rattling came from the cab of the pickup. Quinn moved closer and crouched beside the ruined vehicle.

  Glass shards glittered everywhere on the roof of the truck. The driver’s face was a mask of blood, his body hanging in a hunched lump from the seatbelt. At least he thought to put his on, Quinn thought absently. The noise came again, definitely not from the driver but from behind him in the less-crushed rear seat.

  A woman, her eyes wide with shock lay bound and gagged on the roof of the truck. A huge, purple bruise spanned the right side of her face.

  When Quinn leaned in through the broken side window, her gaze found him, and she began to moan through the simple white cloth yanking her mouth into an obscene grin.

  “Nahnahnah.” The woman shook her head as she tried to speak through the gag.

  “It’s okay; you’re safe; you’re safe now,” Quinn said. He reached into the crushed cab, but she tried to inch away, her eyes flitting around the space searching for escape. “Here,” Quinn said, kneeling further down. He held out a hand, beckoning her closer. “I won’t hurt you. They were trying to kill us.”

  The driver unfolded from his bloody cocoon, one hand holding a pistol, blistered eye sockets two red orbs.

  Quinn grabbed the man’s arm and pushed it up, folding it over the rumpled door panel. The man’s finger squeezed the trigger, and the gun barked once, twice. The woman screamed
against the cloth. Somewhere, Quinn heard Alice yelling his name. His free hand scrabbled at the holster near his side. The XDM was there, sliding free, pushing through the open window against the man’s temple.

  He pulled the trigger.

  He didn’t hear the report, but the man went slack, his struggling arm going limp in Quinn’s grasp. The pistol fell to the pavement, spinning once on its grip before falling still. He sat back and slid a few feet away from the truck, looking at the dark hole in the driver’s skull, not wanting to imagine the exit wound that was surely on the opposite side, but imagining it anyway. Then Alice was there. Her lips were moving, but there was no sound, just like the gunshot. She shook him, hard, and all his senses rushed back.

  “Are you okay?” she said. Her face was so close to his, her hair tickling his cheek.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you stand?”

  “I think so.”

  Alice got him on his feet, and he avoided looking at the driver again. Instead he focused on the woman in the backseat. There was a little blood on her white t-shirt and blue jeans, but there was no way of telling if it was hers or not. She still regarded them with frantic eyes, shifting from Alice to him and back again.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Alice asked him again.

  “Yeah, pretty—”

  She slapped him full across the face.

  The blow caught him completely off guard, and his eyes immediately watered, the imprint of her narrow palm like a whip on his cheek.

  “You almost got us killed, my son, killed!” she yelled. She was pure fury, vibrating with it, and he took a step away from her.

  “I’m sorry, it was the only thing I could think of.”

  She opened her mouth to yell again and then closed it, her eyes running over him. The fire went out of them, and her head tilted forward. She still shook, but the anger was gone.