Cruel World (9 page)

The woman appeared first in the doorway, sideling into view. A revolver, so large it was nearly comical, was in her left hand that she kept aimed at the floor. She looked close to his age and was thinner than he’d originally thought, and taller, almost as tall as he was. Her hair was very straight and very dark, hanging past her shoulders in a languid wave that nearly blended with the shadows behind her. Her face was round and ghost-white with two spots of color on her sallow cheekbones. She had a sharp nose that was incongruent with the rest of her face, though it seemed to lend an air of harsh beauty that was only more accented by her eyes that were like two sapphires reflecting the firelight. An ugly gash ran across the top of her forehead. Crusted blood dried in an uneven line from her right temple to her chin. She glanced around the large room, taking in all its corners before finding him, pinning him to the wall with her gaze. There was movement beside her in the hall at that moment and she reached for it, shielding the small shape beside her as she raised her handgun.

“You’ve got it!” she said, inching backward.

Quinn raised his hands, looking from one to the other, then back at her.

“Got what?”

“The disease. You’re sick, aren’t you?” She shot a look further into the house and then back at him as she retreated another step.

Realizing what she meant, Quinn put one palm against his face and then let his hands hang at his sides.

“No, I’m not sick. I’ve been this way since birth.”

“Bullshit, you’re just something new.”

“It’s called Fibrous Dysplasia. I’ve always looked this way.” He watched her, barely visible in the darkness beyond the doorway. “My name’s Quinn.”

There was a long pause and then a small voice came from behind the woman.

“I’m Ty.”

“Tyrus! We’re leaving. Don’t come any closer.”

“I’m telling the truth. I’m immune, or whatever passes for immune I guess. My father had it first and then my—” he almost said
mother,
but stopped himself and continued “—teacher got it. They both died. Our cook had it too, but he…”

Quinn frowned, the images of what Graham had become playing across his mind. How the cold, pale flesh had felt beneath his fingers. “He…”

“He turned into one of them, didn’t he?”

The woman was standing inside the doorway, the gun at her side again. A little outline in the hallway became a boy as he stepped forward. He was around five years old with tousled, brown hair and glazed eyes the same color of his mother’s that stared past Quinn, through him.

“He turned into a stilt,” the woman said.

“A stilt?”

“Because how tall they are.”

“You mean you’ve seen one too?”

The woman huffed a derisive laugh.

“One? Try dozens.”

Quinn’s mouth worked but nothing came out for a moment.

“Dozens? There’s more of them?”

“Are you slow too? Part of your…” she gestured at his face. “…disorder?”

“What? No, I’m just—I thought Graham was the only one.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but no. There’s a lot of them. Way more than immunes.”

Quinn moved to the sofa and sat, the aches in his legs and ankle muted by what the woman had told him. Ty shuffled further into the room, one hand on his mother’s belt, not looking around, only staring in the general direction of the fire.

“You’re really alone?” the woman asked.

“Yes. There was two others but they left.”

“Were they two men?”

“No, a woman and a man. They were our housekeeper and groundskeeper. Why?”

“Because two maniacs in a truck nearly killed us yesterday. They started following us outside of Pearlton, just hovering a half-mile back, never getting closer. Then they came up fast and tailgated us for about ten miles, both of them waving for us to pull over. I would’ve rather chewed glass, so we kept going until they forced us off the road about a mile from here. I lost control in the ditch and hit a huge transformer. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up this afternoon. When I did, all our supplies were gone. Good thing the boomer was under the seat or it would be gone too.” She waved the handgun once and then slid its bulk beneath her belt.

“They were here too,” Quinn said. “They came in and took all of my food and water.”

“Why didn’t you shoot the bastards?”

“I guess I was in shock. I didn’t know what they wanted when they showed up, so I hid.”

The woman’s lip rose a little on one side in a sneer. “They better hope they never run into me again. Ty lost consciousness too, but he woke up before me and had to sit there wondering if I was dead until I came to.”

Her jaw clenched, and the muscle in her cheek bulged as she looked away at the fire. Ty shivered once beside her.

“Come sit down by the fire,” Quinn said, rising and motioning toward the couch. “I’m guessing you’re both cold and tired.”

“Listen, we don’t need anything from you. We might stay the night just because it’s not safe in the dark anymore. Looks like you’ve got a pretty good perimeter set up around your property, but it doesn’t really matter if a stilt wants to come in.” She looked out the window and then glanced at him again. Their gazes held for a moment before she looked back at the fire. “My name’s Alice.”

Ty inched forward, one hand still attached to his mother’s waist while the other groped at the open space before him. Suddenly the glazed look in his eyes made sense.

“Here,” Quinn said, stepping out of the way. “The couch is to your left.”

Alice guided her son to the plush sofa and helped him onto the cushion. The little boy’s face remained stoic for a beat and then broke into a shining smile.

“This is really soft,” Ty said, looking about the room with his sightless eyes. He shivered again, holding his hands out in the direction of the fire. Quinn moved to get the blanket from the back of the couch, but Alice headed him off, covering her son with it before he could help.

“Are you hungry?” Quinn asked.

“Yes, really hungry,” Ty said, the smile still there.

“If you have something, I can pay you for it, not that money’s worth anything now.” Alice said. “I’m fine, but if there’s something you could spare for him.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Quinn said, moving into the kitchen. He picked up the flashlight on the counter and began examining his stores when he noticed Alice in the doorway, her hand on the butt of her pistol again.

“Sorry, just making sure you weren’t planning anything.”

“Only dinner. I’m really not dangerous.”

“I kinda guessed that when you weren’t able to defend your home against those jackasses.”

Quinn paused in turning over a bag of chips and then shrugged. Alice shifted and fingered the pistol’s grip.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Sometimes there’s no filter between here and here,” she said pointing at her bloodied temple and then her lips.

“It’s okay. I can assure you that I won’t hurt either of you.”

“Dude, you can’t assure me of anything. I don’t know if I’d trust God right now.” She glanced around the kitchen. “In fact, I know I wouldn’t.”

Quinn shifted the food around in the bag on the kitchen floor and retrieved the three cans of stew and opened them. He dumped them into a large steel pan and stirred the congealed mass with a wooden spoon. Alice had moved back into the living room, and he followed her, setting the pan near the fire’s edge. Ty huddled beneath the heavy blanket, only a shock of untidy hair and his face visible.

They didn’t speak for a time, settling instead to simply watch the fire as the tantalizing smell of stew filled the room. Even over the popping flames, the intermittent growls of Ty’s stomach could be heard. When the stew bubbled within the pan, Quinn returned to the kitchen to gather three bowls, ladling the brown and chunky mixture into each of them. He took less than half of the amount he’d dished out to Alice and Ty, eating slowly and watching them devour the meal. Ty ate with excellent dexterity, gathering a spoonful and bringing it to his mouth each time without spilling a drop. Now that the fire burned fully, Quinn could see the boy’s eyes weren’t exactly the same as his mother’s. A thin, gray veil covered them, dimming the color that shone so sharp from Alice’s. When his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl he smacked his lips and let out a small burp.

“Ty!” Alice said.

“Excuse me. That was really good.”

“Do you want more?” Quinn asked, rising from his chair across the room. Ty nodded.

“You can have the rest of mine,” Alice said, beginning to empty the last of her bowl into his.

“No, there’s plenty more. Here,” Quinn said, picking up the pan and pouring the remainder into their bowls. Alice looked up at him for a brief second as he scraped the stew out and moved back to his chair.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you!” Ty trilled, his mouth full.

“You’re welcome.”

“Honestly, this is the first hot meal we’ve had in two days.”

“Where did you guys come from?”

Alice hesitated, running her eyes over his face before continuing.

“Up north in Woodland Mills.”

“Was it…bad up there?”

Alice shot a glance at Ty who had finished his meal and was holding the bowl politely in his lap, listening to the conversation. Alice gave a small shake of her head. Quinn rose and crossed the room.

“All done with your stew, Ty?”

“Yes, thank you. It was really good.”

“You’re welcome.”

Quinn retrieved Alice’s bowl as well and brought them to the kitchen, setting them in the sink. He flipped the water on and shook his head when nothing came out of the faucet. He made a circuit of the house in the darkness, opting not to bring the flashlight. In his father’s office, he moved to the window facing the drive. The night was a blanket beyond the glass, the sky without the faintest hint of starshine. He waited, peering into the dark. There was no movement, no tall, pale shapes striding through the layers of shadow, but that didn’t mean nothing looked back at him, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.

There was a sliding rasp behind him and he spun, grabbing for the XDM.

Alice stood in the doorway, her hands raised before her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

He let the burning air escape his lungs and released the gun’s grip.

“It’s okay. I’m jumpy.”

“I don’t blame you. Must’ve been creepy here by yourself.”

“It’s my home.”

“Really big place. Was your dad rich or something?”

Quinn moved to the large desk and touched the dragon paperweight, only a shape in the dark.

“You could say that.”

The silence stretched between them and broke when Alice motioned toward the living room.

“He’s asleep. I made him a bed on the couch. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. There’s an inflatable mattress upstairs. I’ll go get it for you.”

“Actually some blankets and a pillow would work. I don’t need a mattress.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. But I could use a drink. You wouldn’t have anything, would you?”

“I think I do,” Quinn said, moving behind the desk to the small liquor cabinet. Inside he located a long, slender bottle that sloshed when he shook it. After stopping in the kitchen to retrieve two glasses, they settled into the chairs across from the sofa. Ty rested beneath the comforter, his head propped on one of the pillows. The fire’s glow played across his face, making his brown hair seem lighter. When Quinn glanced at Alice, the dried blood on her head looked like a black scar, marring her white skin.

“You should clean that cut on your forehead, make sure it doesn’t get infected,” Quinn said. “I could heat some bottled water over the fire.”

“Tomorrow. It’s not bleeding, so I’ll deal with it in the light,” Alice said, grasping the bottle he’d set on the table between them. “Belvedere, wow. Top shelf.” She poured her glass half full.

“Do you want me to try and find something to mix…” His voice trailed off as she took a long drink of the clear liquid.

She shook her head and her eyes slid shut as she swallowed. “Ahh.”

Quinn appraised the bottle for a moment before pouring only enough to cover the bottom of his glass. The vodka stung more than the whisky going down and brought tears to his eyes, but the warmth that bloomed in his stomach felt good.

“To answer your question, yeah, it was really bad where we came from,” Alice said in a hushed voice, sitting forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Ty.” She laughed again, the same callus way she had before. It wasn’t so much unkind as hollow. “When all this started happening, it was the first time I was ever thankful that he’s blind. But he heard enough without actually seeing it.”

“We watched some on the news when it started. It looked horrible.”

“It was worse—is worse. I don’t know if it’s still going on or not. Everyone was dead when we left town.”