He spun, bringing up the rifle, and scanned the small yard. The trees were still and silent, nothing hid behind them and the air smelled clean, untouched by blood or decay. Quinn circumvented the vehicle, checking the backseat and rear hatch. The woman was nowhere to be seen. He ran back up the steps, meeting Alice in the hallway.
“She’s gone,” he said, shooting a look past her deeper into the house.
“What? Where could she go?”
“I don’t know. The door was open, and she was gone.”
“Fuck,” Alice said, drawing her handgun. “We have to find her.”
They searched the first floor in a matter of minutes; there weren’t many places for a grown woman to hide. Quinn glanced at the yard again before climbing the stairs.
The woman was standing in the boy’s bedroom with her back to the door. In one arm she clutched a stuffed lion while in her opposite hand, the putrid jelly dripped from a closed fist.
“Ma’am?” Quinn said, as he entered the room. Alice stepped in behind him, her handgun aimed at the other woman’s back. “Are you okay?” He edged forward until he could see her face. She was looking straight ahead out the window. The jelly continued to drip from between her fingers, and her mouth hung open enough for him to see her tongue moving. She was talking to herself.
“Hey, you shouldn’t be up here,” Alice said. She’d lowered the handgun, but still held it ready at her side.
“Come downstairs for a minute, will you?” Quinn said, putting his fingertips on the woman’s arm. She jerked away and turned, really seeing him for the first time since the overturned truck. Her lips moved soundlessly, and she slowly opened her hand to let the rest of the boy’s remains drool out of her palm.
“Gone,” the woman finally said, her voice barely a whisper.
~
They ate in the kitchen of the strange house, their presence there somehow a violation. But, Quinn thought as he chewed the strange pasty mix that tasted of beans and celery, where would we feel welcome now in this world?
The woman had come with them after saying her one word. She’d allowed them to lead her down to the kitchen table, and Quinn had washed her hands of the foul fluid. When that was done, he heated the contents of an MRE and set it before her. She’d eaten in a trance, her motions robotic and continuous until the plate was clean. Then she’d set her fork down and picked up the stuffed lion, staring into its golden, plastic eyes.
They’d put her to bed early in the parents’ room. Quinn had removed the sodden mattress and brought it to the backyard, spraying it down with a can of mineral spirits he’d found in a closet off the foyer to kill the odor. When he’d returned, Alice had made a bed for the woman out of a sleeping bag on the floor. With their urging, she lay down on it and fell asleep in a matter of minutes, the stuffed lion still tucked beneath one arm. On their way out, Alice had insisted on securing the door somehow, so Quinn reversed the knob using a screwdriver so that the locking portion faced into the hall.
Ty swallowed the last bite of his meal and belched, the sound loud and long in the hushed kitchen. A surprised look crossed his face, and he clapped his hands to his mouth.
“Excuse me.”
“You’re dang right, excuse you,” Alice said, pinching Ty’s cheek with two fingers. Quinn laughed as quietly as he could, but he thought he saw Ty shoot a furtive grin in his direction.
“Where are we at?” Ty asked, wiping his mouth with his arm.
“You mean besides in a house?”
“Yeah, mom, like what state?”
“Somewhere in New York, I think,” Alice said. “Though with all the back roads we took, I’m not sure.”
“How far are we from Iowa?”
“A few days, I think, unless we have anything else hold us up,” Alice answered, standing to clear their plates away.
“You mean if we almost don’t die again,” Ty said, setting his dowel onto the table before him. Alice shot him a look and then turned her gaze to Quinn.
“We didn’t almost die,” Quinn said.