“It really happened fast,” Alice said. She sat against the wall watching Ty play with an interlocking steel puzzle Hilton had given him earlier. The pieces slid together in a maze-like pattern. By turning and twisting them into the correct shape, they would come apart.
“I guess we really shoulda’ seen it all comin’,” Hilton said. “World was shit and just got worse as the years went by. Can’t keep takin’ line and not expect to get a hook in your hand eventually. Not that it was such a stretch, most people changin’ into monsters.” He gave Quinn a fleeting look and chewed on the cigarette that poked from his beard.
They passed around the last bottle of water from Quinn’s bag and shared two melted candy bars. In the evening, they heard the passage of several stilts through the woods beside the shack. Their calls were absent, but they could hear the snapping of branches, feel the heavy footfalls through the foundation. After the sounds faded away, Quinn approached Hilton who was arranging the dirty cot in a corner.
“I think we’ll have to stay another night, if it’s okay with you. I don’t think it would be safe enough today to travel any distance,” Quinn said.
“That’s more’n fine. Apologies about how I acted earlier. Wasn’t myself. Not used to guests,” Hilton said, straightening. “Got a feeling we should douse the lights early tonight, not make a spectacle of ourselves.”
“Sounds good. Thank you again,” Quinn said, putting out his hand. The older man shook it.
“No thanks needed. ‘Bout time I do some good deeds.” He grinned at Quinn, and there were two teeth missing from the top left side of his mouth. Quinn felt his upper lip curling. Hilton’s hand was clammy and cool, like something already dead, but his smile was genuine and radiated warmth.
Quinn made his way back to the opposite side of the room and sat down beside Ty who was still working on the puzzle.
“Getting anywhere with that, champ?”
“Maybe. I thought I had it figured out a little bit ago, but now I’m not sure.”
Quinn stared at Hilton who sat on the cot and flopped onto his back, closing his eyes with one last look around the room. The old man’s age spots gleamed with moisture. Quinn imagined them moving like black amoebas on the petri dish of Hilton’s scalp.
“Got it!” Ty exclaimed in a quiet voice. He held the two pieces of puzzle out in triumph.
“Great job, honey,” Alice said, stroking his hair. “We’ll have to find more of those for you. I’ve never seen one like that before.”
“Made it myself,” Hilton said, and they all glanced at him. Quinn had thought the man was sleeping. “You can have it if you want, little one.” He didn’t open his eyes.
“Really?” Ty asked.
“Wouldn’t lie to ya.”
“Cool! Thank you, sir.”
Hilton smiled and then rolled toward the wall. Soon soft snores drifted from him, and he broke wind loudly. Alice put a hand over Ty’s mouth before the laughter could slip out and shot a look at Quinn, a bemused smile on her face. Quinn shrugged and pulled out the revolver, rotating the cylinder around and around. Four shots left. He glanced at Hilton and then back at the brass shells before holstering the weapon and standing.
Quinn moved across the room and inspected the pile of tools. They were all rusted beyond use. Screwdriver tips blunted, saw blades clogged, chains coiled like snakes, hammers orange and pitted. Above the pile was a hole in one of the cement blocks, its edges rounded and smoothed. He ran a finger inside it. Nothing but the hollow center of the block.
“What are you doing?” Alice asked. He came back to her and sat down.
“Nothing. Looking around.”
“You haven’t slept yet, have you?”
“No.”
“You must be exhausted. Lie down for a while, I’ll keep watch.”
He leaned closer to her. “Something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“With him,” he said, nodding toward Hilton.
“He’s eccentric and a hermit. Probably hasn’t talked much with people in years.”
“I know, but there’s something wrong with him. His eyes.”