That would have to be enough for now.
The room tilted.
I grabbed the dresser until the dizziness passed. Then I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The clubhouse was quiet.
Too quiet.
Earlier, it had been full of voices and boots and the smell of cigarette smoke.
Now it felt abandoned.
The lights flickered.
Shit. I knew it was only a matter of time before utilities started failing.
I started down the hallway and paused at the room where Nash had locked the sick in. There was complete silence. Not even the sound of breathing could be heard.
Chill bumps covered my arms. That wasn’t good.
I pushed it to the back of my mind and made my way to the kitchen. Every step made my head pound harder. It felt like my fever was climbing. I could feel it spreading through my body like lava.
“Fantastic timing,” I muttered.
Max trotted beside me, nails clicking softly against the floor.
The kitchen looked like a tornado had hit it. Cabinets hung open. Beer bottles and candy wrappers littered the counters.
I sighed. At least there was still food.
Canned stuff and a few protein bars.
Water.
I grabbed a plastic grocery bag and started stuffing it.
Cans of soup. Crackers.
Anything that we could eat cold.
My hands trembled.
I opened the back door and let Max out to do his business. He sniffed around for a few minutes, then proceeded to hike his leg on everything near him.
I looked around the yard, unable to see far in the fading light, but I was struck by the silence. No jets in the sky, no train whistles in the distance, and no traffic sounds from the nearby road.
Complete silence.
It was beyond eerie, and I was glad when Max finished up and returned to me.
I was grabbing a few more supplies, things out of the refrigerator that hadn’t gone bad, when he whined quietly.
“What, boy?” I patted his big head.
Then I heard it.
A dull thud, and it was coming from the locked room.
