Cruel World (23 page)

The fire rose like a wave around him, the heat growing from warm to uncomfortable to searing in less than a heartbeat.

“ALICE!”

His scream was like a physical blow. She jerked and glanced around, the fire bringing her terrified features into sharp definition. Her jaw clenched, and she rushed forward, disappearing out of his line of sight. A blade of flame lanced up from his feet, and the rope across his chest began to burn. There was the immensity of the pain, a thousand needles piercing his skin, then the rope fell away and her hand was in his.

They ran to the side and leapt over the curtain of fire. Smoke threatened to choke him, but then the air was clear and clean and he sucked it in, tasting it, drinking it. Alice stood beside him, the brightness in her eyes receding again. Her hand twitched and spasmed.

“Where? Where do we go?” Quinn said, gripping her upper arm. She looked at him, and when the fogginess of her gaze didn’t clear, he slapped her hard across the face. “Where?”

“This way,” Alice said, her voice thick and groggy. She jogged forward as a gunshot cracked somewhere behind them, and Alice cried out, falling to her side in a heap.

“No,” Quinn said, dropping down beside her. Her right leg was tucked up close to her chest, and her hands were wrapped around her calf. Blood shone in the firelight. Another shot whistled past them, and Quinn yanked the AR-15 from around her shoulders, finding the outline of a man beyond the pyre.

Quinn emptied the magazine in his direction, and the man dove to the side, uttering a guttural cry as he landed. He didn’t get up.

“Come on; we gotta go,” Quinn said. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and then hauled her to her feet. She grasped his arm, and they ran across the grounds to where the fence stood.

There were two boards missing along the closest section, and they darted through the gap as more gunfire shattered the night. Rounds blasted through the boards to either side of them, splinters flying like shrapnel. Ahead, the shape of a vehicle gathered, and they raced toward it.

“Ty’s inside,” Alice said through a jaw locked by pain.

When they reached the car, he realized it wasn’t the Tahoe. It was built lower to the ground and had narrower windows. Along the side of the fence was a dirt path that ran down a steep hill in one direction and up a substantial grade in the other. Quinn found the rear door handle, intent on simply getting Alice inside, when a round hummed through the air beside him and punctured the SUV’s rear tire.

“Shit,” he said, turning and pulling the trigger, but the rifle was empty. Quinn yanked the rear driver’s side door open, and Ty leapt into his arms.

“Quinn?”

“Let’s go,” Quinn said, dragging them away from the vehicle as more shots lanced its side.

“The water, the food,” Alice breathed.

“No time.”

They hobbled away into the welcoming shadows. Alice’s hand was an iron band around his arm, and he squeezed Ty’s hand so hard he had to force himself to lessen the pressure. The trail beside the fence became rockier with savage holes and channels that tried to turn their ankles as they ran. The stars brightened as they left the glow of the fires behind, and the forest to their right thickened into something primordial.

The air beside Quinn’s head heated up and then he heard the shot a moment later. Without slowing, he guided them off the trail and into the woods. A thicket of dead vine and wild raspberry cane met them, tore at their skin, as they burst through it. Ty uttered a small cry, and Quinn hoisted the boy up and over a fallen log in their way. They tore on, Alice limping beside him, Ty beginning whimper.

A hollow opened up below the side of an incline studded with mature trees. Starlight filtered through the branches, stippling the ground with dagger shadows. A darker, round shape appeared before them, and he pulled Alice and Ty behind the massive boulder, hunkering down behind its protection. He chanced a look back the way they’d come.

A dozen flashlight beams cut the darkness, their swaths ripping across trees and ground a quarter mile away.

They were coming closer.

Quinn slid down the boulder, his breath burning as he gulped it down. When he could speak he said, “We have to get up and over this hill. Can you guys do it?”

Ty nodded in the weak light, and Alice closed her eyes, her face pale as talcum. Men’s voices floated to them, and when he glanced around the side of the stone, a long flashlight flickered in the place where they’d left the path.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He hauled them to their feet, and they set off up the hill. Twigs and leaves crackled beneath their feet, but the noise of a four-wheeler growling along the path below covered the sound. Halfway up, Alice staggered to a stop, her hand loosening on his arm. Quinn turned to her, about to ask if she needed a rest, when she tipped backward in a faint.

He managed to snag her wrist as she fell, and she crumpled at his feet instead of plummeting down the side of the hill.

“Alice,” Quinn hissed in a whisper, kneeling beside her.

“Mama?”

“It’s okay, buddy. She’s okay.”

The four-wheeler revved and crashed through a stand of brush a hundred feet below.

Quinn undid his belt and probed Alice’s pant leg until he found an entry and exit hole wet with blood. He laced the belt around the wound and gently tightened it, tucking the loose end beneath itself.

A man yelled in the hollow. Something about blood.

Quinn took two deep breaths and slung Alice over his shoulders before grasping Ty’s hand again.

They climbed.

Quinn’s legs began to ache. Then they burned. But still they climbed. The top would never come. He kept looking at the ridge, its distance seeming to multiply with each glance. He focused on his breathing. This was nothing more than hanging a hundred feet above the black rocks of the Atlantic, waiting to find the next hand or foothold. Muscles on fire, but to quit meant death.

Ten more steps.

Five.

Three.

One.

They crested the hill, and he nearly crumbled beneath the pain and exhaustion. He allowed himself a ten count of breathing before leading Ty to the right.

The dome of the hill was covered in a layer of dry reed grass that shushed with their passing. Quinn brought them past two oak deadfalls and found a natural plain that descended the opposite side of the rise in a diagonal cut. They rushed down it and entered a sprawl of pine trees. Sounds of pursuit fell away behind them, buffeted by the evergreens. Quinn clasped Alice’s legs tighter to his chest and readjusted her weight. His shoulder was numb where she rested.

“Quinn?” Ty asked.

“Shh, we have to keep going, champ. Just a little farther.”

A rash of younger balsams spread out at the base of the grade, their squat forms growing so thick their branches intertwined.

“In here,” Quinn gasped. The last of his energy was nearly gone. His legs were pillars of lead, lungs full of barbed wire.

They pushed through the first dozen balsams and found three larger trees surrounded by some smaller growth. Quinn wrestled them below the biggest of the three, holding up its lowest branch so Ty could sit down. He knelt and lowered Alice to the ground, letting the branches snap back into place behind and above them. He turned his head in every direction, but there was no way to see out of the hiding place, which meant there was no way to see in.

Gathering handfuls of dead needles, Quinn built a small mound beneath Alice’s head and then leaned close to her, feeling her breath on his face. He checked her pulse. It was fast but steady. When he felt the wound on her leg, there was no new blood soaking her pants. He loosened his belt so that it wouldn’t cut off circulation completely and waited, his fingers over the exit and entry holes.

The wound had clotted.

Quinn lay back between Alice and Ty, his breathing slowly coming back to normal. Far away, someone yelled and an engine grumbled, but it sounded as if the noises were growing fainter.

“Is my mom okay?” Ty asked when they had rested minutes that felt like hours.

“Yeah. Her leg’s a little hurt, but she’s fine.”

“Are they going to find us?”

“No. We lost them good, buddy.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what?”

“I lost my walking stick you made for me.” Ty’s voice constricted. “We were getting the new car and then mom said the monsters were coming, and I didn’t have it with me. I left it in your car.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can make you a new one.”

Ty sniffled, and he shifted on the ground.

“But the other one was special.”

“I know. But the thing about possessions is you can replace them. Even though they’re special, you can get something different and then that thing becomes special in its own way. But do you know what you can’t replace?”

“What?”

“People. It’s okay that you left the stick behind because you and your mom are safe, and that’s the most important thing.”

Ty sniffed again. “And you too,” he murmured.

Quinn opened his mouth but then shut it because his own throat had closed up.

The night deepened around them, sounds of the congregation fading into silence that broke apart with frog song. There was water nearby. That was good. They might need it sooner rather than later. He hadn’t had anything to drink since the woman had basically water boarded him in Archer’s home. Quinn shifted on the ground and brought Alice’s legs up over his own, elevating the wound. The warmth and pressure of her against him sent a shiver through is body. He swallowed and tried not to think of her face so close to him, how white her skin was, the slenderness of her wrists. But the single, overwhelming fact wouldn’t leave him be. She’d come back. Somehow, despite the cutting and hardened exterior of who she was, something had gotten through.

Ty edged closer to him, and he put an arm around the boy who rested his head on his chest and drifted off within seconds. Quinn fought sleep’s advances for as long as he could but succumbed sometime in the middle of the night, his rescuers breathing quietly on either side.

Chapter 20

Lost

He woke to bitter cold and the sound of wind pushing through treetops.

Quinn sat up, muscles a choir of agony. His face stung, and when he put his fingers to his cheek, the skin was crusted and drawn. Ty and Alice still slept. She had rolled over in the night and was much closer to him, one arm draped across his stomach. He ignored the rush of heat where her arm lay and moved it back to her side. When he managed to stand, he pushed through the double layer of evergreens and stepped out into the open.

Dew shone like sprinkled diamonds on every tree branch and blade of grass. The sun was barely up and his breath plumed out before him. The wind shoved rankled clouds across the sky, and on the opposite side of a narrow clearing, a doe watched him with unblinking eyes.

“Good morning,” he said. The deer flicked her tail once and then was gone in two bounds, not a sound accompanying her flight.

Though his body protested, he tried to imitate her stealth as he climbed the hill they’d fled down the night before. And in the morning light, he saw how formidable it truly was. Along with the daunting height, several holes, large enough for a person to drop into, dotted its side. They could’ve fallen into any of them the night before, most likely breaking a bone as a consequence. He moved to the top of the rise and stopped, ready to flee at the slightest hint of danger.

The opposite side was empty. Nothing moved between the tree trunks. Off to the right, the trail lining the cult’s wall ended in a tangle of brush. Four-wheeler tracks ran out from the path and came as high as where he stood but then retreated and shot off to the west.

He listened. Nothing.

When he made it back to their hiding place, Ty was awake, sitting beside his mother and holding her hand.

“Hey Ty, you okay?”

“Yeah. Mom’s awake.”

Quinn ducked under the branches and knelt beside Alice who looked up at him through slitted eyelids.

“No breakfast in bed?” she asked in a weak voice.

“I rang for room service but no one answered,” Quinn said. She smiled.

“I knew you were more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Believe me, I owe you breakfast forever since I didn’t burn to death last night.” Alice opened her eyes a little wider and took in his appearance.

“God, your face is burned.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just as long as my hair looks okay.”

She laughed and then winced, looking down the length of her body to her calf.

“How bad is it?”

“Not too bad. Looks like the bullet went straight through. It quit bleeding last night. Does it hurt a lot?”

“I got shot,” Alice said, slowly sitting up. “Yes, it hurts a lot.” She placed a hand against her temple. “Oh wow, that’s not good.”

“Sick to your stomach?”

“Yeah. But I’m really thirsty.”

“I’ll go find some water. You rest.”

“Are we okay here or do we need to move?”

“We’re alright for now, but we should put some distance between us and the compound before too long. Do you think you’ll be able to walk?”

“As soon as my stomach calms down, I’ll be good.”

“Ginger ale, mom, that’s what you need,” Ty said.

“You’re right, honey. Soon as we get to town I’m having a giant ginger ale and Jack.”

“Jack?” Ty asked, tilting his head.

“Never mind,” Alice said, shooting a look at Quinn.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t get lost.”

“I’ll try not to.”

He left them beneath the cover of pines and moved in the direction he’d heard the frogs earlier. They were quiet now, but he found their shallow pond not far away concealed by a ring of budding blackberry bushes. A green scum covered the water, but he noticed some movement a dozen yards away. When he made it to the far end, he saw that a trickling stream fed the pond, dropping over polished rocks in silver drizzles. At the sight of the running water, his own thirst burned in his throat, and he laid down, pressing his face into its icy embrace. His scorched skin flared with pain and then eased, and he let out a sigh before drinking for a solid minute. He rose, searching for a suitable container to bring the water back to Alice, but there was nothing.

A gunshot rang out in the distance.

Then another. Then three more in quick succession.

Quinn ran back the way he’d come as the gunfire increased to a steady riot. He slid beneath the balsams and found Alice already gaining her feet with Ty’s help.

“What the hell?” she asked, limping forward.

“Sounds like things are imploding back there.”

“Let’s go then,” Alice said.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Here, this is the only other magazine I have,” she said, pulling a thirty-round clip for the AR-15 from her pants pocket. Quinn loaded the weapon and slung it around his shoulders before helping Alice to her feet.

They made their way through the woods, Ty holding Alice’s hand, Alice leaning on Quinn each time she took a step with her injured leg. They stopped at the stream and she drank, sucking the water down in long slurps while the gunfire tapered off, fading thunder in the distance. It slowed, a series of fast pops and then quiet.

One last shot echoed to them.

Alice paused from drinking and looked at Quinn before filling her mouth once more.

“This will probably make us sick, but we don’t have a choice right now,” she said, rising to her feet. “We don’t know when we’ll find water again.” Quinn nodded and helped Ty cup the stream in his hands to drink.

“How far is the compound from the highway?” Quinn asked when Ty had finished.

“Far. I would say at least seven miles.”

“Do you know which direction we should head to find it again?”

Alice hobbled in a circle, looking at the trees and the rise of the hill behind them.

“I think it would be that way, but I can’t say for sure,” she said, pointing to the south. “Since you had to drag my ass all the way up that hill last night, I’m a little disoriented believe it or not.”

“He didn’t drag you, mom, he carried you,” Ty said.

Alice blinked and her mouth tightened into a line.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s the least I could do.” She was looking at him the same way she had before, like she was taking him apart piece by piece and examining what she found. He ignored the impulse to look away and met her gaze. Held it.

“What are you guys doing?” Ty asked.

The moment broke and Alice glanced at her son.

“Figuring out where we’re going.”

Quinn cleared his throat. “Let’s head south. I’m sure we’ll run into something sooner or later.”

They set off without any more discussion. The woods thickened as they traveled, the trees growing taller, their tops seeming to skim the clouds that continued to coast by. Patches of blue sky between branches, the wind in their ears, their progress slow but methodical as they leaned on one another, helped each other over obstacles. There were times when Alice would grasp his hand in her own, her fingers tightening as she hobbled beside him, and he resisted glancing at her to see if she was looking at him.

At mid-day they stopped in a glade hemmed in by towering white pine. Hunger was a hot fist in Quinn’s stomach, and he surveyed the surrounding woods.

“I’m going to try to get us something to eat,” he said, readjusting the rifle.

“Like what?” Ty asked.

“Probably a squirrel or something.”

Ty made a disgusted face. “A squirrel? No, we can’t eat a squirrel.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re soft.”

“They are if you cook them right,” Alice said from where she sat on the ground. Ty turned his head in her direction, his mouth open. Quinn barked laughter and set off for the nearest stretch of trees.

The air was cooler beneath the wide branches of the pines, his footsteps muted on fallen needles. He watched overhead for the telltale shadow of a squirrel or chipmunk, but the limbs were devoid of any life. Even the birds were quiet here. He continued on, pushing through a stand of poplar and down a short valley that ended in a rocky stream flowing slowly, its middle only a foot deep. He was about to cross it and continue on to the other side where a promising copse of pines waited, when three long shadows floating idly in the stream caught his attention. The fish swam against the light current, their dark bodies curving lazily to keep even with its pace. Quinn edged closer to the stream, careful not to let his shadow fall upon the water. He aimed through the sights, centering on the middle and largest fish of the group, and pulled the trigger.

The rifle boomed and water flashed in the air, droplets catching the sun.

Quinn pulled the gun away from his cheek and watched as two darting shadows flew away down the stream, vanishing in an instant. Silt churned up from the bottom and clouded the water as he watched.

The white belly of a fish bobbed to the surface.

“Yes!” Quinn said, scrambling down the bank. He stepped into the water and grasped the trout, pulling it from the stream. It was over a foot long, its body a deep green, speckled with dark spots. Its gills worked feebly, opening and closing several times before stilling. When he turned its slippery length over, he could find no wound where the bullet had entered its body. The concussion of the shot had killed it. Quinn smiled, raising his eyes to the far bank.

A wolf watched him from its edge.

He froze, taking in the stark outline of its tall ears, the long snout, watchful eyes. Its coat was black with tan splotches on its chest and flanks. Its mouth opened, its tongue appearing to swipe at its chops. His fingers flexed on the rifle, and he took a step back out of the stream.

The wolf spun and bolted away, gone before he could fully register that it hadn’t been a wolf at all. It had been a dog. A huge dog with a winking collar at its neck.

He jogged all the way back to the glade, a branch scratching his cheek as he went, but he didn’t slow down until he was beside the small pile of branches and leaves Ty and Alice had built in preparation for a fire.

“There’s gotta be a house nearby,” he said, breathing hard.

“What? Where did you get a fish?” Alice said, pointing at his hand.

“Huh?” Quinn looked down at the trout, having forgotten it with the appearance of the dog. “Oh, there’s a stream not too far. I shot it.”

“You shot it?” Alice said, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah. Anyways, when I looked up at the other side of the stream, there was a dog standing there with a collar on.”

“A dog?” Ty asked, gaining his feet.

“Yeah, a big one. German Shepherd I think.”

“Cool,” Ty said.

“Where there’s a dog, there’s got to be a house. Can’t be too far away,” Quinn said.

“You’re probably right,” Alice said, setting the tinder aflame with her lighter. “But can we cook that fish before we leave, or are we having sushi?”

~

The trout was delicious. They cooked it on a flat rock beside the small fire, and even without any spices, the meat was rich and flavorful. When they had eaten their fill, Alice wrapped the small remainder in a large, dry leaf and tucked it away in one of her pockets. They didn’t speak, each content with having a full stomach, and Ty leaned against his mother and fell asleep in the sunshine that drenched the glade. After a time, Quinn glanced at Alice and drew a line in the dirt with one finger.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask how you two found me at the compound,” he said.

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“But I went to Foster’s first and then came this way.”

“I know. We went back to the house where we left you, and when you weren’t there, I figured that would be the next place you’d go. The directions were in the center console. So we went there and saw you’d been there, or somebody had. I was sure it was you, so we took the most obvious route west. The bridge you crossed was the only one for twenty miles. We got there as they were hauling you and your truck away, so we went farther north and found a place to cross before coming back down to The First Church of Eternal Salvation.” She said the cult’s name in a sarcastic voice and made quotation marks in the air. “Bastards even had the name plastered on the side of the van they put you in. After that we waited until dark and idled along in low gear next to their stupid fence until I could see that crucifix over the top and stopped there. It wasn’t long until they brought you out.”

“That’s amazing.”

“No, what’s amazing is Ty wouldn’t shut up about going back to find you. Just so you know, that’s the only reason I decided to come back.”

“I never meant to endanger him at that house. I had no idea the woman wasn’t immune.”

“I know. But you trusted someone.” She readjusted Ty where he leaned against her and glanced over at him. “Just don’t do it ever again, okay?”