Todd removed his shirt and turned around so that Brendan could examine his back.
“And the lady,” Brendan said, addressing Todd, for some strange reason. For the first time, Todd noticed a revolver poking out of Brendan’s narrow waistband.
“Better do it,” Todd told her.
Kate turned around and lifted her sweater over her head. Brendan held the lantern closer to her, illuminating the cuts and scrapes along her back. He reached out and hesitantly touched a particularly angry cut just below her right shoulder.
“She’s obviously fine,” Todd said, his tone suggesting Brendan remove his hand sooner rather than later.
Brendan’s hand snapped back and he clutched the lantern in both hands. He had a nervous, bouncy quality that made Todd want to strap him to a chair. “Where’d you two come from?” he wanted to know. “Ain’t from town.”
“Their car broke down outside of town last night,” Tully answered for them. “Their friends were killed.”
“Oh. Shoot.” Brendan’s voice wavered. “I’m Brendan Parker.”
Todd and Kate introduced themselves.
“Where are the others?” Tully asked Brendan as he continued down the hallway. Todd and Kate followed, while Brendan skirted ahead of them to keep up with Tully.
“Bruce is still fucking with those laptops,” Brendan said, “and Molly and the kids are downstairs in the basement. Did you find out what that fire was last night?”
“The church burned down,” Tully said.
“St. John’s? No shit? Damn.” Brendan eyeballed the Superman backpack still flung over Tully’s shoulder. “What’d you get?”
“Make yourself useful and get these two some warm clothes,” Tully said, ignoring the question. “And give me the lantern.”
“You got it,” Brendan said, handing over the lantern to Tully. Brendan nearly collided with Kate as he spun away and took off down the corridor.
“Jumpy little beanpole,” Todd commented.
Tully offered something that approximated a chuckle. “A week ago I wouldn’t have said two words to that squirmy little weasel.”
“Do you smell something?” Kate muttered to Todd.
“Yes. Smells like…”
“Hot dogs,” Kate finished. Grinned.
They walked past a large room filled with desks and empty holding cells. Todd could see that the windows had been boarded up and all cracks and creases secured with industrial gaffers tape. Tully kept moving, not stopping until he came to a second set of doors bathed in shadow at the end of the hall. Again, he produced a new key and unlocked the deadbolt. A resounding clang! echoed through the corridor.
The door was opened and Tully maneuvered himself down a narrow flight of stairs. Calling back over his shoulder, he said, “Watch out. Handrail’s gone.” Then Tully sank down into the murky depths of the stairwell, like a man wading out into the middle of a lake.
Todd went next, Kate’s hand suddenly appearing on his right shoulder. Beneath him, the stairwell swayed and creaked and threatened to collapse under his feet. He wondered just how far down they were going. All of a sudden, he was overly aware of the handgun at the small of his back. If this were some sort of trap, he’d have to be ready. For Kate’s sake, if not his own.
His shoes touched down on warped floorboards. Behind him, Kate almost stumbled but squeezed his shoulder for support before falling on him. Todd reached out and grabbed one of her hands.
“Thank you.”
He couldn’t see her face but she sounded extremely relieved.
Illuminated by the halogen lamp, Tully’s bright orange face hovered in the darkness before them like a harvest moon. “Hold this,” Tully said, handing Todd the lamp.
Bit by bit, the basement of the sheriff’s headquarters took on appearance: slatted wooden bookshelves drooping at angles over wood-paneled walls; a potbellied stove in the center of the room, around which someone had set a bunch of folding chairs; rows upon rows of rifles standing in a large shelving unit. There were unlit Chinese lanterns on bits of wire hanging from the exposed ceiling rafters, and a card table was erected in one corner, playing cards scattered on it. Toward the far end of the room, an enormous hulking furnace stood—dark and defunct.
Tully’s eyes looked like rat’s eyes in the lamplight. “Listen,” he grumbled. “You two wait here. Molly and the kids are still a bit jumpy. Let me tell them you’re here before you storm in on them. Otherwise, you’re liable to get your heads blown to bits.”
“Waiting here sounds like a good idea, yeah,” Kate agreed.
Tully clumped toward the back of the room, where he knocked against a section of wall. Todd could hear faint murmuring coming from behind it. Then there was a sound like someone uncorking a bottle of champagne and the section of wall cracked open on a set of hinges. White light spilled out, briefly spotlighting Tully before he slipped into the room and shut the door behind him.
With only the lamplight between them, Todd and Kate stepped closer together.
“What if he’s another psychopath, like that kid at the church?” Kate whispered. “What if being trapped like rats in this town all week has turned all the survivors into raving lunatics?”
“What other choice do we have?” he countered.
Behind the wall, someone’s voice rose up in what sounded like concern. It sounded like a woman’s voice. How many had Tully said were with him? Six, including Tully himself? Todd couldn’t remember. Then Tully’s head popped back out of the opening and he motioned Todd and Kate inside.
A woman with a very pregnant belly sat on a cot with a bottle of water in her lap. She looked to be in her early thirties, but the exhaustion and fear that had plagued her over the past week had multiplied her age so that she looked old enough to remember the Kennedy administration. Reddishbrown hair curtained her face, and Todd could make out the vague hint of large, staring dark eyes. Her shoes were off, her feet clad in layers of socks.
Two kids curled together in another corner, an ancient-looking board game with wooden pieces laid out between them. They looked to be twins of the opposite sex, roughly around the ages of nine or ten. Their faces looked slim and sallow, with chapped lips splitting from the cold, but they were wearing so many layers of clothing they looked like two plump cherubs.
Tully pointed at each one as he made the introductions. “That’s Molly Sanderson. The boy here is Charlie Dobbins and that’s his sister, Cody.”
“Hi,” Todd said, feeling like a circus performer, the way Molly and the kids stared at him. “My name’s Todd Curry. I’m from New York.”
“And I’m Kate Jansen.”
“New York’s far away,” the boy—Charlie—said.
“Are you married?” Cody wanted to know.
“Yes, New York’s far away,” Todd said, “and no, we’re not married.”
Cody pointed at them. “You’re holding hands.”
Self-consciously, Todd and Kate released each other. “We’re just good friends,” Kate said.
“Did you check their backs, Tully?” Molly wanted to know. She had pulled her hair back to reveal a heart-shaped face with delicate features. She looked terribly mournful.
“Of course.” Tully set the backpack down on a rickety old desk and the two kids stood up. The room itself was small and cramped, a few cots pushed up against a brick wall. There were a desk and a rolling cart stacked high with blankets, as well as a few towers of paperback novels piled high in one corner. The ceiling was a concavity of exposed joists networked with cables and wires.
“What’d you bring us?” Cody asked, both she and her brother sidling up beside the desk in anticipation of what was inside the Superman backpack.