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Okay. So we made out on the couch for an hour. I don’t think it’s fair for anyone to be judging me. Yes, I know. Dead guy. Sister tied up in basement. I know, I know. But there was nothing else to do except watch Mission: Impossible in French. They say that stressful situations bring people together. It’s true. No, it’s really true. I’m sure there’s something in the DSM-IV about it.
So yes. Couch, dark living room, rain outside, French countryside…the rest of the picture sounds right, doesn’t it? We had just paused because our lips had gone a little numb when we heard Marylou screaming in the basement.
“She is awake,” Gerard said calmly, stroking my hair.
I buried my head into his chest and put my hands over my ears, but nothing drowned it out. She was screaming my name over and over.
“Can’t we let her out?” I asked. “We have the gun. We can tie her up in the kitchen where it’s warm. She’s going to need water and food….”
“She will be fine,” he said. There was a firmness to his voice I didn’t like.
“She can’t hurt us,” I said, sitting up. “There are two of us. I’m not saying that we let her run around, but…”
“You have no idea what she can do.”
In the dark all I could see was the outline of his hair, his bright eyes. His hand was on my leg. I felt his fingers tighten and tense.
“The infection,” he said, “you do not understand. You do not know what eet does. You have no idea. I have seen what eet does. That is not your sister right now, Charlie. She was gone by the time you got to the part about the guillotine.”
“The part about what?”
“The part about the guillotine.”
I went back through my mind, back to the moment where I was standing there with Henri and he was talking and talking and I asked to use his bathroom…. He had never said anything about a guillotine. I’d cut him off. I never got the whole story.
Which meant that possibly…possibly I had never been infected. I had never passed it on to Marylou.
But Gerard seemed to know a lot about this Law of Suspects thing.
And he was sounding calmer and calmer, the tone stripped from his voice, just like it had been from Henri’s. But Gerard would never let himself listen to the story….
Gerard had been tied up in a chair, alone with Henri. Helpless.
His fingers flexed again. He was staring at me in the dark, his expression unmoving.
“Right,” I said, trying to sound cool. “That part. That was the freakiest part.”
I couldn’t take Gerard, not physically. All I had was the gun, and I was not going to shoot him. We hadn’t known each other long, but I liked him. He was a good person. He had almost gotten himself killed trying to protect me.
“I was thinking,” I said. “The car. We should really check the car. I’ll bet there’s enough gas. Henri was probably lying about that.”
“Where is there to go?”
“To town!” I said.
“There is no point.”
“I’d feel better if we just looked,” I said. “I’ll just go and check. It’ll take two seconds.”
I felt his hands moving to grab my arm, but I got up first.
“And I’ll get us something to eat!” I said as cheerfully as I could. “Something besides onions!”
I hurried to the kitchen and fumbled around for the switch. We had turned the lights off because the sight was so horrible. I couldn’t find the switch, so I made my way to the table in the dark and grabbed the gun. I had to move it. Hide it. Somehow get it out of the picture. But I got exactly nowhere, because Gerard was behind me in a moment.
o;Let me find some blankets,” I said. “And a coat.”
“Be quick,” he said.
