She flew into the open air over the mine and fell out of sight without a sound, her blond hair waving as she plummeted.
“No!” Quinn yelled, bringing up the pistol. The stilt bellowed, opening its mouth wide as it charged. He fired twice, both bullets blasting teeth apart as they ripped through the stilt’s mouth and out of the back of its skull. It fell forward, bouncing off the edge of the pit before rolling down and out of sight.
There was more movement along the path ahead, long forms striding forward.
Quinn grabbed the bar on the door and yanked it up and away. He grasped the handle and pulled. The door opened into a rain-drenched field. Alice raced past him carrying Ty, and Denver followed, bounding out through the open door. Quinn aimed at the next stilt that appeared through the rain, the shot punching it in the chest as the pistol locked open and empty. He shoved the gun in the back of his pants and slammed the door shut behind them.
He ran.
In a few steps, he caught up to them, and they fled across the field. Over his shoulder, the door remained closed until the last time he looked and could no longer make out its shape through the rain.
The field sloped downward and entered a slash of poplar, their white trunks scarred with black knots. They plunged through the forest, which opened to a field already green with sprouts only inches high. Across the plain was a driveway leading to a farm, its red silo towering above the flatness of the land.
“There,” Quinn gasped, relieving Alice of Ty’s weight. They rested for a minute, listening for the sounds of breaking branches above the rain. When they continued, Ty shook with cold against Quinn’s chest, and Alice was limping heavily.
They made it to the farmhouse, breaking a pane of glass in the front door to gain entry. It was blessedly warm and dry inside without a hint of decay in the air. Quinn set Ty down and found a blanket to cover him with while Alice searched the pantry for food.
“We need to leave as soon as possible,” Quinn said on his way to the attached garage.
“I know,” Alice replied, not looking up from where she gathered canned goods and boxes of crackers.
Along with a newer model Chevy pickup, there was a faint stench in the garage. In the empty space beside the truck, he saw its source. Two empty nooses hung from a rafter, their loops cinched to the size of a fist. Below them on the floor were two sets of crusted clothing and glasses in separate piles beside a pair of overturned chairs. Quinn looked at the clothing for a while and then checked the truck for keys.
The keys weren’t in the ignition but hung from a peg near the entrance to the garage inside the house. By the time he returned to the kitchen, Alice had found a plastic bag and filled it with as much food as it would hold.
“There’s no water here,” she said, gathering a stack of blankets.
“That’s okay; we’ll find some on the way.”
Quinn checked the sodden fields through the porch windows before they loaded the truck and popped the overhead door. He threw it up on its tracks and backed the truck out before closing the garage again. Alice had noticed the clothing on the floor and looked at him as he climbed back into the cab.
“Just felt wrong to leave the door open,” he said.
They rolled down the driveway and turned onto a county road that led to a paved highway heading north, each mile leaving Fort Dodge farther behind.
Chapter 29
Ground Zero
Quinn pulled the truck to a stop in the marina parking lot and looked around the mostly empty space.
They’d driven for four hours straight, taking highways and side roads away from the interstates that had become cluttered with more and more stalled or crashed vehicles the closer they got to Minneapolis. Closer to Genset’s headquarters.
“What are you doing?” Alice asked, sitting up in her seat. She’d drifted off the last twenty miles and only woken when he stopped the truck.
“This is where you guys get out,” Quinn said, not looking at her.