They climbed from the vehicle and approached the house. It was a simple two-story with a concrete basement. It appeared newly completed. When Quinn made his way around to the front yard, there was a realtor’s sign stuck in the dirt beside the curb. A sliding glass door on the back of the house gave them entry after Quinn began to pry on it with a small multipurpose bar he’d taken from the store. The inside of the house was cool and empty. No furniture adorned the living room or kitchen and the three bedrooms upstairs held no beds. When he tried the faucet in the large bathroom on the main floor, cold water poured out on his palm, turning hot when he adjusted the handle.
“We have hot water,” he said, meeting Alice and Ty in the kitchen where she deposited the black duffel on the floor. “Power must still be on in most of the city.”
“I guess this is as good a place as any to spend the night,” she said, glancing around the room.
“I would’ve liked us to get somewhere a little higher and more secure.”
“Me too, but I didn’t see anything nearby, did you?”
“No. I don’t know if it’s smart to keep pressing our luck driving around town either.”
Alice sighed and ruffled Ty’s hair.
“No, you’re probably right.”
“It smells new in here,” Ty said, feeling the air with his left hand.
“Here, I’ll set you up in the corner, champ,” Alice said, carrying him to the farthest corner of the living room. After opening a bottle of water for him, she and Quinn unloaded the necessities from the Tahoe. When they had weapons loaded and within easy reach on the marbled kitchen counter along with several MREs, Quinn moved the Tahoe tight to the rear of the house, parking it directly beneath one of the upstairs windows. From that spot, the vehicle could only be seen if someone were to round the house through the yard on either side, but from the street it was invisible. The pain in his leg intensified, and he resisted the limp that tried to implant itself in his stride. A runner of fresh blood rolled down his leg, and he felt it soak into his sock. When he stepped inside, already formulating how he would lock the broken door, Alice was at the counter, a small black case open before her.
“Come lay down, big guy,” she said, patting the countertop. In the other hand she held a hooked needle that caught the early afternoon light.
“Um, you know what you’re doing?”
“It’s sewing; how hard can it be?”
“It’s sewing a person, in this case me. Maybe it doesn’t need stitches.”
“Just lie down, please.”
He relented and climbed up onto the wide countertop but didn’t lie all the way back. There was a small scissors beside the medical kit, and he used these to clip away a large flap of jeans, exposing the wound completely.
“Shit. It’s worse than I thought,” Alice said, drawing a length of black thread through the needle.
“I don’t suppose there’s any type of pain killer in there,” Quinn said.
“Nope. Not unless you count aspirin. It’s pretty bare bones. There is a little numbing gel in here though.”
“I’ll take it.”
After washing the wound off and sterilizing it with a small bottle of peroxide, Alice dabbed on the numbing gel that burned when it touched the gash but slowly leeched away some of the ache. Before she began to stitch, she looked up into his face.
“You okay?”
“I think so. Are you?”
“Yes. This is going to be painful.”
“I know.”
“It’ll be okay, Quinn. It’ll be over in a jiff. That’s what mom says when I have to get shots at the doctor,” Ty said from the living room.
Quinn smiled. “Thanks, Ty.”
“No problem. It still really hurts though.”
Alice tried to hide a grin and then raised her eyebrows in a question. Quinn nodded and she began to sew.
The pain was sharp and boiled at each point she pushed the needle through, the thread thin but severely uncomfortable as it slid through his skin. After the first two stitches he looked away, focusing on the brightness of the day in the empty field behind the development, how the brown grass nearly glowed, the twisting paths a pair of birds made through the air, the dancing flicker of a butterfly close to the trees.
“And done,” Alice said, snipping off the excess thread. The stitches were surprisingly neat and there were more than he would’ve guessed.
“Wow, thanks,” he said.
“What, you didn’t think I could do it?”
“I guess I didn’t know.”
She gave him a small smile.
“Well, now you do.”
He slid off the counter, his leg feeling somewhat like an overcooked sausage.