Cruel World (24 page)

“Okay.”

They woke Ty a short time later and set off again. After crossing the stream, Quinn managed to find the dog’s footprints in a stretch of mud leading into denser forest. Without a machete, there was no possible way for them to move through its tangle, especially with Alice’s wound that had begun to weep blood again. She waved off his offer to carry her when he mentioned it.

“I’m a little old for piggyback, and you’re not carrying me like a sack of potatoes,” she said, muscling past him with a limp. Instead, they circumvented the thicket, traveling east along its edge. Quinn kept shifting his gaze to the underbrush, sure that every so often he spotted a dark patch of fur or the flash of a collar out of the corner of his eye.

The day passed into afternoon and then into evening. Shadows slanted from the trees and grew long, covering twice their physical forms. The constant breeze died and with it came the renewed smells of woodland in spring: the heady scent of blooming flowers, pine sap running, the whiff of decomposing leaves.

The air grew heavy as night crept closer, and in the distance, it sounded as if a huge rockslide had given way.

“Storm’s coming,” Alice said. “That’s gonna suck.”

“I’ll try to figure something out,” Quinn replied.

“Yeah, if you can magic us a four-star bed and breakfast, that would be great. Oh, and a bottle of that nice vodka we had at your house.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Quinn said, smiling. He was about to suggest stopping beneath the bows of a tall balsam nearby when he caught the shine of something through the trees straight ahead.

“Wait here,” he said, raising the AR-15 to his shoulder. He moved away, keeping low to the ground, ignoring Alice’s whispered questions. He crept from tree to tree, taking cover behind each one and waiting a beat before crossing another open distance. When he had no more trees to hide behind, he eased out, bringing the rifle up at the same time.

A rusted Studebaker sat in the middle of a cleared area, the last rays of sun reflecting off a tarnished, chrome mirror. Yellowed grass reached up past its corroded fenders. Flecks of baby-blue paint shone amidst the cancerous steel. Its headlights were empty holes staring straight ahead, but when he approached its side, he saw that all of its glass was intact.

Quinn looked around the clearing, barely wide enough to house the car itself, and spotted an overgrown path stretching away into the darkening forest. A peal of thunder, this one closer, echoed in the sky. He tried the rear driver’s door handle, and it opened with a shriek of protest. A musty plume of air wafted past him. The ancient upholstery cracked and split when he placed his hand on it and pressed down. Other than a gathering of dried moss on the floorboards, the interior was devoid of moisture.

When he returned to where Alice and Ty waited, the half-smile on his face silenced Alice’s questions.

“I think we found our campsite,” he said.

They ate the remainder of the fish inside the car as the first raindrops fell against the windshield. The woods around them settled beneath a blanket of darkness, and the sky became a mass of folded clouds.

“How far do you think we walked today?” Quinn asked, as the rain began to drum harder against the roof. Alice reclined in the passenger seat and propped her injured leg on the dash.

“My leg says three hundred miles, but I’m guessing it was closer to ten.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

Ty began to sing lilting tones that drifted up to them from the backseat where he’d lain down. Something folksy and sad.

“What song is that?” he asked as the storm increased and lightning splintered the darkness.

“The Biplane, Evermore.”

“It sounds familiar.”

“The Irish Rovers sang it. My dad loved them.”

“Was he Irish?”

“Half, and half English. He said that was why he could never make a decision.” The beginnings of a smile fell from her face, and she turned her head toward the window. The rain came down harder, turning the interior of the old car into a pounding cacophony.

“What happened to him?” Quinn said. He held his breath, sure that she wouldn’t answer. She kept her face turned away from him, and after a long time, he knew she’d fallen asleep. He glanced into the backseat and saw Ty had laced his hands together over his chest and was breathing slow and deep. He looked like a miniature old man taking a nap. Quinn gave Alice a final look, her outline a darker shadow against the window, and readjusted the rifle beside him, settling in for the night. He was at the boundaries of sleep when Alice spoke, her voice barely carrying to him over the rain.

“He was in the Navy for fourteen years. That’s why I know how to handle guns and probably why I curse so much. He had quite a few guns of his own and brought me out shooting when I was little. He was the kind of guy that never gave an inch when he thought he was right, and my mom was the same way. It made for some hard days, but they loved each other.

“One night when I was twelve, our furnace failed. Earlier that fall my dad had had it inspected, and the guy who signed off on it was a drunk. Turns out he had been drinking that morning and hadn’t checked the emergency shutoff valve. A fire started in our basement, and it had eaten through the floor by the time my dad woke up.”

Alice breathed deeply, steadying herself. Lightning stuttered and lit the inside of the car, turning the tears on her face into jewels.

“Part of the wall in my room collapsed when the floor started to drop into the basement. It fell on my bed and pinned me there. I remember the flames, how they moved like they were alive, like they were looking for me. Then my dad came through the smoke and shoved the wall away and I was free. I don’t remember him carrying me outside. The next thing I knew my mom was holding me near the street and it was snowing and our whole house was engulfed. There were sirens and lights from the fire trucks turning the flakes red and blue. By the time they got there, all they could do was keep it contained to our yard.”

She turned to him, shaking in the darkness, the rain a steady roar around them like a liquid inferno.

“He went back in. He went back in for my little sister, and neither one of them came out.” She wiped at her face and sniffled, reminding him so much of Ty the night before, crying over his lost stick. “My mom didn’t have early onset dementia. She had a total break with reality the night we lost them. She never recognized me again after that.”

“God,” Quinn whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why I locked up when the fire started the other night. I can’t stand it. Whenever there’s one near me, I feel like I’m being watched. Like it got a taste of me that night and it won’t give up until it’s gotten the rest.”

He searched for something to say, but there was nothing. Sometimes words were the most insubstantial things in the world. Instead, he reached out and found her arm in the dark. She jerked at his touch, but he let his fingers glide down to her wrist, over the dainty bones there, and then slide into her hand. She hesitated for a second and then gripped his palm in her own.

They sat that way for a long time. The endless rain fell around them, their breath beginning to fog the side windows. He could’ve remained there forever. Slowly, she released his hand and finished wiping the last of her tears away.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” she said. “I don’t know why I just told you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Why?”

“Because no one should have to carry everything alone.”

Lightning flickered, and he saw the frown knitting her eyebrows together, her gaze locked on him.

“I don’t get you,” she said finally.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” She turned in her seat, wincing as she moved her leg, and checked on Ty. “I’m so glad he can sleep. It would be so much harder if he couldn’t.” She settled back into her seat, trying to get comfortable.

He was about to reply when lightning blazed across the sky in a white lance, and Alice gasped, pointing out the windshield.

The dog stood watching the car from the edge of the woods.

Quinn jerked in his seat, ripping the rifle up from where it rested beside him. The last flutterings of light shone in the dog’s eyes and then darkness coated the windows black.

“Holy shit,” Alice said, wiping away the condensation from her window. “What the fuck is it doing?”

Quinn leaned forward, trying to see the place where the dog stood, but the night was impenetrable.

“I don’t know. It looked like—”

His words slid away as lightning flared again, outlining every branch, tree, and bush.

The dog was gone.

Chapter 21

Sanctuary and Flight

In the morning they left the sunken Studebaker behind to continue rusting in its hidden place.

The overgrown trail the abandoned car sat in led them southwest, its line curving and dipping into a shallow swamp before rising again to a high stand of oaks, all green tipped and still dripping from the storm the night before. The sun rose with the same ferocity as the storm, and the day heated like an oven coming to temperature. Alice tried to walk on her own, and managed to for a while, her hand loosely holding Ty’s, but near mid-day she leaned on the trunk of a tree and shook her head.

“I’ve gotta rest. Can’t go any more right now.”

“It’s okay. You two take a breather, and I’ll scout ahead.”

“Don’t get kidnapped by a cult, huh?” Alice said as he moved away. “Not sure I can come save your ass this time.”

Quinn gave her a smile and walked over a slight rise that dropped into a gully. He waded through piles of fallen leaves a foot deep and climbed the other side, muscling up a short ridge before stopping. He took two steps and walked onto a hiking trail.

He stood there gazing down its length that stretched in either direction for what seemed like miles. Straight ahead the trail became a T, and across the path was a faded wooden sign, its carved letters highlighted in yellow paint.

Crowfoot County Park

Sheep’s Hoof Trail Head 3.9 mi ~>

<~ Grand Falls Recreation Center 1.1 mi

Quinn stared at the sign and then closed his eyes. Only another mile and they’d be at some kind of civilization. Food, water, transportation. He turned back, marking the way with each step. As he moved, he took in the tranquility of the forest, the easy movement of the trees growing their leaves for the summer soon to come. The world had ended, humankind as a whole losing their footing on the side of the mountain of life, but here, here everything was the same as it had been for centuries. Untouched, untainted, serenity.

He was so lost in thought as he neared the place where he’d left Alice and Ty, he almost missed the sensation growing on his left side. A pressure of presence. He slowed and listened before swinging the rifle up and kneeling to steady himself for a cleaner shot.

The dog sat on its haunches fifty yards away. Its ears were erect, eyes focused on him, unmoving. It watched him for a span and then turned its head as Ty’s high-pitched laughter rang out through the trees. The dog gave him another look and then rose and darted away through the underbrush and was gone.

“Wait,” Quinn called out as he stood, but the Shepherd had vanished.

When he made it back to where Alice and Ty rested, Alice had her eyes closed and was seated at the base of a tree, her head tipped back. Ty turned in Quinn’s direction at the sound of his footsteps.

“Quinn?”

“Yeah, buddy, just me.”

“I thought I heard something else a few minutes ago.”

“You probably did. Our canine friend was nearby.”

“The puppy?”

“He’s more of a grown-up dog, but yeah, he was here.”

“What was it doing?” Alice asked, not opening her eyes.

“It looked like he was watching you guys.”

She cracked an eyelid. “Cujo?”

“I don’t think so. He was just sitting there, really calm.”

“Did he have one of those little whisky barrels around his neck?”

Quinn laughed. “No, I didn’t see one.”

“Damn.”

“I found a hiking trail not too far ahead, and there’s a recreation area that might have a building or two we can stay in for the night and regroup.”

“Wonderful. Give me two seconds.”

“Mom’s not feeling good,” Ty said, placing a hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, Tyrus. Give me some room to get up,” Alice said, sitting forward. Quinn moved closer and knelt near her feet.

“Let me take a look at that leg.”

“Kinda forward, aren’t you?” Alice said, but sat back and drew up her pant leg.

The wound was puckered with blackened blood near its center, but the skin around it was a violent red and swollen. Quinn grimaced.

“I know. Let’s get to the rec center,” Alice said, her eyes meeting his.

She leaned on him once she was able to get to her feet, the going slow and arduous. When they made it to the trail, he glanced at her face, a mask of concentration and sweat, her pupils huge.

“I’m fine; I can make it,” she breathed, and gripped his arm harder.

They set off down the hiking trail, its grade mercifully level. The sun slanted between the trees pouring golden light across the shoots of grass growing green along the sides of the path. After a half hour, the woods began to thin, and they caught glimpses of the side of a structure, its color blending with the browns and grays of the forest. The trail led to a paved turnaround and an empty parking lot, a solitary potato chip bag drifting across its expanse. The park headquarter building was two stories with bright white trim around its windows, some of which were broken. Signs directing hikers and campers alike were posted across its front and stood on posts outside the entrance. A red mountain bike leaned against the side of the building.

The whole place had a haunted look.

Quinn tried the door and it opened easily. There was a service counter straight ahead adorned with stuffed animals, t-shirts, and sweatshirts all emblazoned with the Crowfoot County Park logo. A worn pool table rested before men’s and women’s bathrooms. Beside them was a set of stairs leading up to the second story. Glass littered the floor beneath two broken windows, dried blood on the edges still hanging in the frame.

He did a quick sweep of the second floor, which housed mostly boxes of dusty papers and survey maps. A sprawling desk sat before a door to the left, and when he opened it, the smell of decay hit him like a slap.

A man’s body was in the middle of a small office. A shotgun lay beside him, along with most of his skull. Quinn shut the door and returned downstairs.

“It’s clear,” he said, coming even with an overstuffed chair that Alice sat in, Ty cuddled in her lap. Their darkened reflections looked back at them from the blank TV screen on the wall.

“Good. I’m shot,” Alice said, cracking one eye open to see his reaction. He shook his head.

“Not your best work.”

“Tough crowd.”

“There’s a…” Quinn drew his thumb across his throat and motioned to the floor over his head. “So I think we should stay down here tonight.”

“Do we have power?” Alice asked.

He moved to the wall and flipped a few switches. Nothing happened.

“Back to the dark ages,” he said.

“Isn’t that the truth.”

Quinn strode to the front desk and pulled a map from a display case, spreading it out on a nearby table. He traced a snaking line that ran from the lodge they stood in to a black dot marked ‘Ferry’. He checked the drawers behind the counter, his attention on the silent vending machine in the corner of the room. After a moment, he found a stubby key in the furthest right drawer.

“There’s a town only six miles from here,” he said, crossing the room.

“Yeah. I don’t think I could go another step there, champ,” Alice said.

“Don’t worry, mom; Quinn’ll carry you,” Ty said, patting her hair.

“Oh he will, huh?” Alice said.

“Yep. He’s like superman. ‘Member he carried you all the way up that hill?”

Quinn couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he unlocked the vending machine and pulled out three bags of chips and three warm cans of soda. He brought the food to them, opening Ty’s for him before settling himself on the corner of a cold fireplace.

“I’m going as soon as I’m done eating,” Quinn said, chewing a handful of chips. They exploded with flavor in his mouth, and he couldn’t remember something tasting so good in his life.

“What? No. You’re staying here. It’ll be dark in a few hours. We have to secure this place for the night,” Alice said, her eyes open wide now, more alert than she’d been all day.

“I have to go. You know it,” Quinn said, pointing to her injured leg while Ty munched on his chips and turned his head whenever one of them spoke.

“Quinn—”

“I’ll be back before dark, no problem. And I’ll leave you the rifle.”

She sighed and sipped at her pop. “Never met someone so stubborn.”

“Can I come with you, Quinn?” Ty asked.

“No,” they both said in unison. Alice blinked and suppressed a smile. Ty frowned and continued to eat, his face toward his lap.

Quinn finished his chips and slugged the last of his soda down before setting the rifle beside Alice’s chair. She unbuckled the holster holding her revolver and handed it to him.

“There’s only six in that, make each one count.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He was almost to the door when Ty yelled for him and came hurrying as fast as he could across the room, one hand held before him, the other out to the side. Quinn knelt and grasped his arm when he was close enough to touch.

“Don’t go,” Ty said, his lower lip trembling.

“I have to, buddy. It’s important.”

“But what if you don’t come back?”

“I’ll come back. You don’t need to worry about that. You stay here and keep your mom safe, okay?”

The boy nodded and then leaned in closer to him, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I wasn’t asleep last night when you guys were talking.”

“You weren’t?” Quinn whispered back.

“No. Mom didn’t tell the truth.”

“About what?”

“About me talking about you after we left you. I asked why you weren’t coming with us, and she told me to be quiet, so I did. I wanted to go back, but she decided to come find you.” Ty turned his head toward his mother, but she seemed to be dozing again, her hand resting lightly on the rifle.

Quinn squinted at the boy and then squeezed his hand.

“I’m really glad you guys came back.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, go sit with your mom. If you hear anything after I leave, you wake her up, all right?”

“All right.”

“See you soon, little man.”

Quinn moved through the door and locked it behind him. He eyed the mountain bike leaning against the wall. It was quiet, but not fast enough to outrun anything other than a man. He walked around the side of the building, re-adjusting Alice’s holster on his hip, and spotted a maintenance shed set back close to the encroaching woods. The door was unlocked, and when he stepped inside, the smell of cool concrete and gasoline assaulted him. A shape sat in the dark near the rear of the shed, and he threw the doors wider, illuminating the Honda side-by-side ATV. A key jutted from the ignition. He climbed inside the machine and turned the key, ready to return to the mountain bike, but the engine responded with an enthusiastic growl that became a hum. In a matter of minutes, he had backed out of the shed and was howling down the paved road leading away from the recreation center.

The wind coursed past him, flowing through his hair. Sunlight slipped between trees filling his sight with its honey glow. The road flew past, and he pressed the pedal down, increasing his speed. The aches and pains of the prior day’s injuries retreated with the exhilaration of driving the ATV. Driveways scrolled by, mailboxes, an empty car. The road was his, and he had a clear purpose, people depending on him. The miles fled behind him, and he watched the wood lines, searching for pale skin or swaying movement.

The town of Ferry boasted a population of fifteen thousand people according to its welcome sign. To the south a great field of rotting cornstalks waved in the wind, and the north held a giant building with a sign proclaiming
Ferry Poultry Inc.
that gave off such a tremendous odor of death Quinn gagged as he passed by. The rest of Ferry, Ohio, was a conglomeration of meek, single-story businesses and homes set into the side of a sweeping hill that hadn’t gained the full shade of green it would become as summer grew stronger.

Quinn slowed the ATV and stopped at the mouth of the main street running into and out of town. He waited, watching the side alleys as well as windows and roofs.

Nothing moved.

He idled forward, throwing a look back over his shoulder.

The road was empty, the sun a hand’s width from the horizon.

He unfolded the map he’d brought from the lodge and studied the expanded view of Ferry. The business district consisted of four streets that intersected in a hashtag pattern. The business names weren’t listed anywhere on the map. He refolded the pages and placed it in the glove compartment before urging the Honda forward.

The buildings closed in around him and seemed to grow taller, their blank windows dead eyes, the broken ones busted teeth. Water ran in a steady stream from beneath the door of a beauty parlor, flooding the sidewalk outside and a portion of the street. A woman wearing a bright yellow dress was sprawled near the front of a hardware store, her skin purplish, hair matted and tangled, obscuring her features. One of her shoes was missing.