Quinn stepped forward, putting the revolver against the slight nub of its ear, but it didn’t stir. Chuffing breaths came out of its nose, and its long fingers twitched.
He turned and picked up the cloth bag along with the cane. Halfway to the front door he slowed, then stopped, staring out of the drug store’s window.
Another stilt was making its way toward the store, its eyes twitching in their sockets as it left the bulk of the herd and moved with long steps in his direction.
“Fuck,” he swore, his voice a hoarse whisper. He ran back the way he’d come and stepped into the pharmacy to see the prone stilt’s eyes beginning to open.
The rock. Where was the rock?
There was a scratching at the front door. The bell tinkled.
The creature before him made a guttural sound in its throat.
His eyes scanned the space around him, seconds ticking down.
Quinn set the bag down and grabbed the biggest syringe he could find off of the counter. Tearing the wrapper off, he knelt before the glass case holding the opiates. His hands shook as he pulled the door open and snatched a vial of morphine from within. Quinn shoved the tip of the syringe into the rubber stopper and drew back the plunger as he crab-walked to the waking stilt’s side.
He jammed the syringe into the monster’s back between its shoulder blades and depressed all of the morphine in one movement.
It stiffened and issued a short grunt. Quinn peeked over the pick-up counter and saw the other stilt standing in the doorway, its head swinging from side to side. The creature before him struggled to get its wide hands beneath its shoulders, but its movements were becoming sluggish. It bared its teeth and found him with its eyes.
They were blue, like Alice’s, like Ty’s.
Its eyelids fluttered, and it gasped for breath, legs sliding along the floor in slow semicircles. He chanced another look over the counter and saw the stilt by the door tilt its head, but its attention was turned to the large group outside that croaked as one, their voices intermingling in a base discord.
The stilt on the floor shuddered, its muscles slackening.
The bell chimed, and the front door closed.
Quinn slumped, sliding down and lying flat. He couldn’t stay here. He had to move. But at that moment, nothing was more right than the chilly tile against his back and his sweat cooling on his skin. When his breathing had returned to normal, he went to the front of the store and looked out.
The street was empty. The intersection where the herd had been was completely vacant.
The sun had dropped below the hill Ferry was built into. The afternoon shade lengthened with each minute. He gazed out at the Honda and then at the street that would take him back toward the recreation area and the lodge where Alice and Ty were waiting.
Time ticked by.
He checked the street every other minute, the bag and Ty’s new cane clutched at his side. He should go now. There hadn’t been any sign of them in at least twenty minutes. They’d moved on. But God, there’d been so many of them. Why were there so many? And why were they moving together?
Quinn unwrapped a candy bar and chewed.
The wind blew ribbons of sand down the open street.
He tossed the wrapper away and stood. The light had weakened. In an hour it would be full dusk.
Quinn re-gripped the bag and cane, keeping the revolver in the opposite hand as he pushed through the door slow enough not to ring the bell. The street was silent, so quiet he could hear the speckling of grit as the wind coasted across the concrete.
The Honda waited for him ten steps away.
He hesitated beneath the colorful awning. His body trembled. Fresh sweat sprung out from every pore.