Cruel World (14 page)

“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 warbling 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.

“There was nothing—” Alice began.

“We could’ve tried.”

“They would’ve killed us. All of us. Who knows how many more there are out there.”

“I just hope that if we’re ever in a situation that bad, if someone can help, they will.” In his mind’s eye he saw his father watching the starving girl and the dying man on the side of the road as he drove past.

“
You
can do whatever you want after tomorrow,” Alice said, walking toward the door. “I’m going to keep me and my son alive.” She paused in hallway. “We should keep watch.”

“I’ll take the first shift,” he said. Alice half nodded and vanished into the bedroom where Ty slept, undisturbed, by what had played out in the meadow.

Quinn paced downstairs and sat with his back against a kitchen cabinet, his eyes burning as he tried to block out the sounds of feeding that filled the night.

Chapter 13

Silence and Frost

The morning was overcast with interlocking clouds moving east at a steady pace.

Alice had relieved him somewhere near three in the morning, waving off his assurances that he could make the whole night.

“I’ll need you alert in the morning,” she’d said, and sent him to lay down in his own sleeping bag. He’d slept little and light, the first gray edges of dawn creeping beneath the curtains waking him.

They ate a simple breakfast of powdered eggs and jerky, which wasn’t bad considering they had hot water to mix the eggs with. When they stepped outside, the development was quiet without so much as a single birdsong breaking the silence.

Quinn laced up his father’s hiking boots and walked around the front of the house, easing up to the corner before scanning the street and meadow on its far side. There were no traces of the stilts or any sign of their late meal. The area where the couple had died was heavily trodden, the sprouting grass trampled flat. Other than a dark stain, there was nothing to show that they’d been there at all.

After loading the Tahoe, they pulled onto the street, their windows down despite the cold to hear their surroundings better. Quinn rode in the passenger seat again, his rifle between his legs and the XDM strapped in a holster on his hip he’d taken from Thor’s the day before. Ty sat quietly in the backseat, his face turned toward his window, lips moving soundlessly in what Quinn could only guess was a song he sang to himself.

Quinn searched the yards and parking lots of the buildings they passed on the way back to the blocked bridge. There was no movement, human or otherwise. The emptiness filled up the city and overflowed, stretching away to the indifferent ocean that continued its forever quest of washing away the land.

When they arrived at the bridge, Alice slowed the Tahoe and swung it in a short U-turn so that it headed back the way they’d come. She motioned to Quinn to get out and then glanced in the rear view mirror.

“Honey, you wait for a second in the car, okay?”

“Okay.”

Alice got out and guided Quinn a few steps away from the Tahoe before looking up into his face.

“Do you know how to get on the turnpike from here?”

“Um, no.”

“Really? How many times have you been to Portland?”

Quinn licked his lips. “Not many.” Alice stared at him, her blue eyes studying every inch of his face before sighing.

“Okay. You have to go back the way we came and take the first left. That’ll merge into Fifth Street. Follow that for a mile and then you’ll see the signs pointing to Ninety-Five. Ninety-Five goes south and then you’ll see—”

“Wait, why are you telling me this?” Quinn said, cutting off her directions.

“In case something happens to me. I want you to take Ty and try to get to Iowa.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he said, the words too fast and sounding hollow.

“In case something does, you need to be able to get out of the city. It seems like most of the stilts are still around the populated areas.”

“Probably centered near military posts and hospitals. Like the one we’re going to now.”

She threw him a look that bordered on malicious. “This is a mental care facility, not a hospital. And it’s fairly small.”

Quinn nodded, seeing Ty beginning to open his door.

“Promise me,” she said. “Promise you’ll take care of him if something happens.”

“I promise,” he said, the words coming easier than he expected. Ty climbed down out of the SUV, gripping his dowel in one hand, his face trained toward their voices.

“Okay,” Alice said, reaching out to grasp Ty’s free hand. “We go quickly and quietly. The facility’s only a few blocks on that side road. We’ll go in, check the place to see if mom’s there. If she’s not, we leave.”

“Is grandma okay?” Ty asked.

“We’re not sure, honey, but we’re gonna check on her.” Ty’s lip trembled, but he nodded and lowered his face toward the ground.

“We need anything else?” Quinn asked.

“Just these,” Alice said, waving her rifle once. “Let’s go.”

They moved in a single line between the cars on the bridge. The air was cool and a layer of decay hung with it, thicker near the vehicles that were still occupied, their inhabitants only mushy stains on the seats inside. The river gurgled beneath the bridge.

“I’d forgotten that they did that,” Alice said under her breath as they passed the last of the cars. “Turned to soup.”

The feeling of his father’s skull sinking beneath his fingers came and receded, and Quinn wiped his hand on his pants. “Yeah,” was all he managed.

The street the facility was on branched to the right, stretching away long and narrow with old oaks growing from either side. Their branches reached high and intermingled over their heads, creating the illusion that they traveled beneath a striated tunnel. The houses were sparse here with wide lawns cut by paved drives that led to attached garages. A utility truck was stalled beside an electrical pole, its bucket half raised and empty, the driver’s door cocked open. When they passed it, the same terrible odor met them like a fog and what might’ve been a wedding ring glinted amidst a jellied mass on the floorboard.

The street ended in a neat turnaround, its center landscaped with bushes not yet bloomed. The facility itself lay beyond, a single-story brick building with rolling lawns spanning either side dotted with birdbaths and a white fountain that still spouted water into a small pond. They stopped before the entrance, waiting for any movement from inside the structure, but the shadows remained still behind the glass lining the front doors.

Quinn glanced at Alice who gripped Ty’s hand tighter.

“All right, buddy, we’re going inside now. And it might smell bad for a little bit, okay?” Alice said.

“It smells bad everywhere,” Ty said.

“Isn’t that the truth,” she said. “You ready?” she asked Quinn.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Then let’s go.”

Alice led the way, still holding Ty’s hand firmly. Quinn followed, turning back the way they’d come to inspect the empty street before moving through the door.

The smell hit him like a hammer. It was like his father’s and Teresa’s rooms, like the cars on the bridge, except multiplied tenfold. It was all he could do to keep from retching. The odor was in his nose, coating his throat, burning his eyes. Ty coughed once and covered his mouth. Quinn put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Alice moved forward, seemingly unaffected.

They were in a lobby with a square kiosk straight ahead, padded chairs lining walls hung with magazine racks. To the right side of the desk, a hallway ran away from them into darkness, a few sets of doors visible on either side. A single light burned on the desk, and when they neared it, Quinn saw a dark splash of red dried to a brown on the swivel chair before the blank computer screen. He shared a glance with Alice, and they both turned on the flashlights they’d attached to their rifles earlier that morning. Their beams cut swaths in the murk that inhabited the hallway, the sound of their footsteps much too loud. Quinn breathed through his mouth, not only to cope with the smell but also to hear any furtive movements that might’ve been drowned out otherwise.

The hallway spanned the entire length of the building, the right side holding rooms looking out upon the expanse of lawn that let some light into the long space. The rooms opposite them offered no views except the decorations each patient hung up on the walls. There was an abundance of these that appeared and vanished in the sweep of the flashlights: mobiles made of string and straws, finger paintings, and the occasional full-length canvas sitting on an easel. A red exit light flickered above a hallway to their right emitting a soft buzzing. Alice paused there, bringing their procession to a stop.

“My mom’s room is at the very end of the hall,” she whispered. “Why don’t you two wait here, and I’ll go check.”

“No,” Ty whispered back.

“I don’t think we should split up,” Quinn said.

A door swung open a dozen paces down the hall, its hinges emitting a brief squeak.

They froze, their lights trained on the door as it coasted to a stop. The doorway remained a frame of shadow.

Nothing moving.

No sound.

Quinn tightened his grip on the AR-15, his finger touching the trigger.

“Hello?” Alice said in a low voice.

There was a beat and then a bald head poked from the darkness followed by two dark brown eyes that flitted over them, taking them in. The man emerged from what Quinn assumed was a janitor’s closet since he was inexplicably holding a mop in one hand, its head dried to a tattered pulp. He wore a dirty, blue jumpsuit, and his bare feet poked from the pant legs like two white fish. He blinked in the glare, holding up one hand to shield himself.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t. He’s not here. Doctor’s not here. Not in right now. Come back later and see,” the man said, looking down at the floor. He began to shift his weight from foot to foot.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Quinn said, stepping past Alice and Ty. He lowered his gun toward the floor. “Are you here alone?”

The man rotated as he swayed back and forth. One hand went to his mouth and he inserted a pinkie finger between his teeth, biting down. He shook his head.

“Is there someone here with you?” Quinn asked, taking another slow step forward.

The man pulled his finger from his mouth and grinned.

“Always here, here, here, and there’s room now. Any room I want. Do you know which one is yours?”

“Do you know Myra Fisher?” Alice asked. “She had a room here too.”

The man’s eyes traveled from Quinn to Alice.

“Marie, Marie, Marie, she lives across from me, me, me.” He giggled. It was a high, splintered sound that raised the hairs on the back of Quinn’s neck.

Something flashed by the window of the room to their right, there and gone in a blink.

Quinn stepped back and brought his rifle up, trying to see out the window in the room behind them. There was nothing but the long reach of dead grass, the fountain still flowing.

“Something’s wrong,” Quinn whispered.

“Always wrong, ping-pong, sing-song, come on,” the man sang in a high voice and sprinted away from them down the hall, dropping the mop to the floor with a clatter. His blue jumpsuit flashed in and out of their lights.

“Fuck,” Alice said, moving forward with Ty in tow behind her.

“Alice, let’s go,” Quinn said, snagging her arm.

She pulled away. “He knows my mother. Marie’s her middle name.” Her eyes were shining orbs in the flashlight’s glow. “I need to know.”

Quinn let her go, grimacing before jerking his head. They set after the man at a quick walk, his laughter bouncing off the tile floor and walls. He waited for them at the end of the hall, his back against the wall as he pushed off of it with his buttocks, letting himself slam against it before pushing off again.

“Stop that,” Alice said, spearing him with her light. “You gotta be quiet.”

He began to chew on his pinkie again, his upper teeth becoming red with blood.

“You said you knew where Marie was,” Quinn said in as calm of voice as he could muster, the sight of the man gnawing through his own finger making his stomach flip.

“In there, in there, always in there,” the man said, snapping his bald head toward the door on their right. “Go in, go see, go see, go see.”

They kept Ty in between them as they moved past him. As Quinn came close to him, he realized the uniform the man wore wasn’t only dirty but wet also, and the smell that came off him was palpable. He’d been soaking in what the disease had left behind.

Alice pushed the door open and stepped inside. Immediately she moved Ty to one side and stood him against the wall. When Quinn entered the room, he saw why.

A police officer lay facedown in a pool of dried blood. His face was bone white, a partial beard spattered with gore covered his cheeks. His mouth gaped open, eyes sunken and dried to crusts. His pants were pulled up above his boots and something had been
at
his legs, the teeth marks prominent in the bloodless flesh. Quinn ripped his eyes away from the body on the floor to the bed occupying the room that was stripped of everything but a thin sheet. A stained outline rested in its center, a pool of viscous jelly desiccating along its borders.

The man giggled behind them, and Quinn only had time to glance at the officer’s body, the empty holster on his duty belt, before he spun and brought up his rifle.

The man had the cop’s handgun trained on Ty who stood motionless against the wall, his lips moving soundlessly again, completely unaware.

“Here, we’re here, come, come, come, inside, quick!” The man yelled at the top of his lungs, glee pulling his lips back from bloodied teeth.

Quinn tried to aim, but the concussion of a shot made him flinch, his sights losing the man’s grinning head. There was a mist of red hanging in the air, and it coated his face like a spray of surf when he would climb the cliffs by the ocean. His right ear buzzed and his head felt lopsided, heavy with the deafness that plagued half of it. The man was gone from the doorway, and Ty still stood against the wall, covered in blood.