“Okay.”
Alice got out and guided Quinn a few steps away from the Tahoe before looking up into his face.
“Do you know how to get on the turnpike from here?”
“Um, no.”
“Really? How many times have you been to Portland?”
Quinn licked his lips. “Not many.” Alice stared at him, her blue eyes studying every inch of his face before sighing.
“Okay. You have to go back the way we came and take the first left. That’ll merge into Fifth Street. Follow that for a mile and then you’ll see the signs pointing to Ninety-Five. Ninety-Five goes south and then you’ll see—”
“Wait, why are you telling me this?” Quinn said, cutting off her directions.
“In case something happens to me. I want you to take Ty and try to get to Iowa.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he said, the words too fast and sounding hollow.
“In case something does, you need to be able to get out of the city. It seems like most of the stilts are still around the populated areas.”
“Probably centered near military posts and hospitals. Like the one we’re going to now.”
She threw him a look that bordered on malicious. “This is a mental care facility, not a hospital. And it’s fairly small.”
Quinn nodded, seeing Ty beginning to open his door.
“Promise me,” she said. “Promise you’ll take care of him if something happens.”
“I promise,” he said, the words coming easier than he expected. Ty climbed down out of the SUV, gripping his dowel in one hand, his face trained toward their voices.
“Okay,” Alice said, reaching out to grasp Ty’s free hand. “We go quickly and quietly. The facility’s only a few blocks on that side road. We’ll go in, check the place to see if mom’s there. If she’s not, we leave.”
“Is grandma okay?” Ty asked.
“We’re not sure, honey, but we’re gonna check on her.” Ty’s lip trembled, but he nodded and lowered his face toward the ground.
“We need anything else?” Quinn asked.
“Just these,” Alice said, waving her rifle once. “Let’s go.”
They moved in a single line between the cars on the bridge. The air was cool and a layer of decay hung with it, thicker near the vehicles that were still occupied, their inhabitants only mushy stains on the seats inside. The river gurgled beneath the bridge.
“I’d forgotten that they did that,” Alice said under her breath as they passed the last of the cars. “Turned to soup.”
The feeling of his father’s skull sinking beneath his fingers came and receded, and Quinn wiped his hand on his pants. “Yeah,” was all he managed.
The street the facility was on branched to the right, stretching away long and narrow with old oaks growing from either side. Their branches reached high and intermingled over their heads, creating the illusion that they traveled beneath a striated tunnel. The houses were sparse here with wide lawns cut by paved drives that led to attached garages. A utility truck was stalled beside an electrical pole, its bucket half raised and empty, the driver’s door cocked open. When they passed it, the same terrible odor met them like a fog and what might’ve been a wedding ring glinted amidst a jellied mass on the floorboard.
The street ended in a neat turnaround, its center landscaped with bushes not yet bloomed. The facility itself lay beyond, a single-story brick building with rolling lawns spanning either side dotted with birdbaths and a white fountain that still spouted water into a small pond. They stopped before the entrance, waiting for any movement from inside the structure, but the shadows remained still behind the glass lining the front doors.
Quinn glanced at Alice who gripped Ty’s hand tighter.
“All right, buddy, we’re going inside now. And it might smell bad for a little bit, okay?” Alice said.
“It smells bad everywhere,” Ty said.
“Isn’t that the truth,” she said. “You ready?” she asked Quinn.
“As I’ll ever be.”