He rapped her knuckles. “We’ll see.”
She yanked open the bathroom drawers with her free hand. Ty went back to the kitchen and pulled open the first set of cabinets. “Score!” he crowed. “First one opened, not even trying.” He leaned from the kitchen and held out half a bottle of Captain Morgan’s rum.
“Nice.”
“Whatcha got?” asked Billie from the bathroom.
“Booze,” said David.
“Sweet. Epson salts are medicine, right?”
“Yep,” said David. “Grab it.”
“Couple cans of soup,” said Ty, “some ramen, half a box of Bisquik. Not much else.” He held up the half-filled canvas bag.
David looked at the box. “Can Bisquik go bad?”
“I don’t know. The date’s still good.”
St. George twisted another bolt out of the concrete. The rust and paint made them slip a lot, but if he squeezed hard enough he could work them loose. It got high enough to get his fingers under and he yanked it free of the rooftop. The last solar panel shuddered for a moment as he tossed the bolt over by the air vent.
He paused for a quick glance down below. The street was still clear. Ilya was strapping down the panel that had come down ten minutes earlier. Big Red had seven of them so far, wedged in alongside scavenged bins and boxes.
The hero attacked the last bolt and a minute later the solar panel swung backward like a drunk. “Ready with the next one,” he shouted. “You clear down there?”
“Ready and waiting,” called Ilya. He pulled the ratchet strap he was working on tight, swung his rifle a little further behind his back, and shot a thumbs up toward the rooftop.
The hero hefted the panel in both hands and hopped off the rooftop. He soared down to the truck bed, Ilya grabbed the panel for balance, and they set it down. Barry shifted on his pile of blankets and muttered in their general direction.
“Two more up on the next roof,” said St. George.
Ilya nodded. “Any idea who’s getting these?”
He shook his head. “I think one of the East Central stages. I’m sure Stealth has it planned out.”
“’Course she does.” Ilya stretched another ratchet strap out and hooked it to a support.
St. George looked out at the street. “Still good?”
“Yeah. Nothing for four or five blocks.”
Jarvis and Andy walked up to the truck, each holding a cardboard box packed with cans while Lee covered them. “Looks like somebody’s granddad planned for World War Three,” he said. “A bunch of Korean War stuff and there’s at least two more loads of stuff like this in the duplex over there. A few cases of 30-ought, too.”
“You guys are just finding all the fun stuff today,” said Ilya.
St. George flipped a can of turkey chili in his hand and slotted it back into the case. “Any sign of what happened to grandpa?”
Andy shook his head while they slid the boxes to the back of the truck. “Back door’s off its hinges,” he said, “some blood by the garage. No bodies. Either they ate every inch of him or he walked away.”
“One way or another,” added Lee.
“Get it all,” said the hero, “but take your time. He might be wandering around there somewhere.”
“Him and a couple thousand others,” coughed Jarvis.
“All the more reason to be careful,” said St. George. He glanced at his watch. “I’d love to finish this block today.”
“We can do it,” said Lee. The three men tossed out waves and salutes and marched back to the duplex.
The hero kicked off the lift gate and flew back up to the roof.
“Last apartment on this floor,” said Lady Bee. She set her swollen shopping bag down and banged on the door.
Lynne clutched her rifle. “So, that was them killing an ex?”
Mark nodded. “You find them stuck in bedrooms, bathrooms, stuff like that,” he said. “They don’t know how to work a doorknob, so they just get stuck in places. I’ve seen a lot in closets. Some people just crawled in there to hide and croaked.”
“They don’t feel anything,” Bee said. “No brain activity, no feelings, no nothing. They’re just walking corpses. Clear,” she said to Mark.
He gave the door three hard kicks and the deadbolt ripped out of the frame. He stared into the dim apartment for three Mississippis and then moved in. It was packed with dusty IKEA furniture and pillows. “Avon calling,” he yelled out.
“That stopped being funny before I was born,” said Bee, adding a gentle kick to his ass as she slid past to the kitchen.
“That will never stop being funny,” he assured her. “Lynne, watch her back. I’ve got the door.”