“Delightful. Flowers,” Quinn shot back.
“A waste. Dancing.”
“Can’t. Trust.”
“A waste. Guns.”
“Loud. Love.”
“Myth. Death.”
“Scary. Fire,” Quinn said, glancing at the flames. Alice opened her mouth and then shut it, her eyes wide, looking past him, through him.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said finally and stood, moving through the doorway and out of sight. A moment later there was the quiet closing of a door. Quinn watched the hallway where she’d disappeared, his brow furrowed. It was only when Ty touched his arm that he realized the boy had risen and crossed the room to him. Quinn gazed down into Ty’s eyes, their focus swimming and watery. His irises were so blue and bright, even beneath the thin veil of gray film they were hard to look at.
“Bend down,” Ty said, tugging his arm. Quinn obliged, tilting his head to one side to accept the secret the boy was undoubtedly about to tell him.
One of Ty’s hands, small and airy, grazed his face.
Quinn jerked away, standing up so suddenly Ty nearly fell backward. The boy’s eyes were as wide as his mother’s had been before she left the room.
“I just wanted to know what you looked like,” Ty said. His voice was small, uneven.
“Sorry. You…I’m just,” Quinn said and looked up as Alice stepped into the room. She glanced from Ty to him and then back again, understanding slowly gracing her features.
“Ty, let’s get you ready for bed,” she said.
“But it’s early, and I took a nap.”
“Tyrus...”
“Okay.”
Alice handed him the tape-wrapped dowel, and he shuffled out of the room, tapping with the makeshift cane. Alice hesitated for a moment and then followed him toward the bathroom. Quinn cursed under his breath and faced the window again, watching the dead neighborhood.
~
It was full dark by the time Ty fell asleep in the upstairs bedroom. Quinn had drawn all the curtains an hour before and hung an extra blanket over the window closest to the fireplace in the living room. With the flames set to low, only a slight glow rippled behind the glass, squat shadows dancing on the new carpet beyond the mantle.
Quinn sat before it, the AR-15 on the floor beside him. He’d watched the streets in front of the house until the daylight faded to nothing, like an oil lamp being turned down. The buildings blended with the trees into amorphous shapes, and the streetlamps came on near the neighboring commune of houses, scattering the shadows beneath the hedges and benches lining the sidewalks. He threw a glance at the sliding door opening to the back yard, assuring himself that the two-by-four he’d found in the garage and jammed into the frame would be sufficient as a lock.
Unless someone really wants to get in. Or some thing.
He brushed the thoughts away as Alice returned to the living room, her own weapon hanging from a sling she’d attached to it earlier in the afternoon. She sat down a step away, folding her legs beneath her like a child awaiting story time. In the flickering light, she appeared even younger. Before he could stop himself, the question fell from his mouth.
“How old are you?”
Alice turned her head toward him, coating one half of her face in light and the other in darkness.
“How old do you think I am?”
“I’m not answering that.”
She smiled. “Smart guy.” After a long pause, she looked back at the fire. “Twenty three. How about you?”
“Twenty.”
“Not even drinking age yet.”
“Nope.”
“I could tell you weren’t much of a drinker.”
“I could tell you were.”
“Touché.” She fingered the stock of her rifle and turned to him again. “I’m sorry if Ty made you uncomfortable earlier. It’s just how he sees people…”
Quinn shook his head. “It’s fine. I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?”