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“Huh.” Pause. “You know, you should work out, Albert. We have a gym. You and those stick arms of yours.”
Albert was looking for a suitably cutting retort when Quinn came up over the side of the cliff, stood up, brushed himself off, and said, “Albert.”
“Who sent you, Quinn?” He was not interested in small talk. Alicia had a gun, and so did Pug, who was standing a few dozen feet away, watchful, ready.
“Yeah, good to see you, too, Albert,” Quinn said.
Albert hesitated, nodded, and said, “I guess come inside and we can talk.” He turned on his heel and stalked up to the house, not waiting for Quinn. Alicia fell back so she could walk just behind Quinn.
There was an electric light on inside, something no one had seen for months in Perdido Beach. But just a single bulb: fuel was in very short supply, and Albert’s priority was keeping the water pump running and having enough energy to at least take some of the chill out of his showers.
They went inside and to the living room with vast bowed windows that provided a horizon-to-horizon view. Perdido Beach was a silhouette now, a dark spac
e against the bright lights of out there.
Leslie-Ann brought in a pitcher of iced tea and glasses. Glasses filled with actual ice. Quinn stared at the ice like he was seeing the gates of heaven.
“So?” Albert pressed as Quinn poured himself some tea, added sugar—a second impossible luxury—and took a drink.
“So, Albert, I noticed you didn’t fire a missile at me.”
“No.”
“Which means you want to know what’s going on. So maybe stop acting all high and mighty. I don’t work for you anymore, Albert. I’m only here because Edilio asked me to come.”
“Edilio?” Albert frowned. “Not Caine?”
“Well, you wouldn’t know this, Albert, since you ran off when things looked bad, but with the barrier transparent things have changed.”
“Yes. It’s lighter during the day,” Albert said dryly.
“Lookers—people, adults, people out there, I mean—are all up against the barrier where the highway goes. TV cameras, parents, nuts. It’s a mess because—”
“I can see them,” Albert cut in. “Let me guess: no one’s working, they’re all waving at their family members, and pretty soon everyone will be very, very hungry.”
Quinn didn’t bother to confirm.
“Caine?” Albert asked.
“Caine is off with Sam looking for Gaia. Edilio is running things now, thankfully.”
Albert drank some tea and thought it over. He could work with Edilio. Edilio was much more sensible than Caine. For one thing he wouldn’t go around proclaiming himself king and then let his psycho allies terrorize everyone.
“Edilio wants me to come back and get people working,” Albert guessed.
“Yep.”
“How about you, Quinn?”
“Me?” Quinn looked him right in the eye. “I think you’re a selfish little coward.”
The insult did not particularly bother Albert. Selfishness was a virtue, and if self-preservation was cowardice, so be it. “I’ve got everything I want right here,” Albert said, holding up the glass of ice as proof number one, then nodding at Alicia as proof number two, then sweeping a hand around the elegant room, barely visible in the meager fifteen watts.
Quinn set the glass down and ran his hand through his hair, a gesture that flexed his considerable biceps and well-defined triceps, causing Alicia to edge a little forward on her seat and thereby definitely annoying Albert.
“I’ll tell you, dude,” Quinn said, “I think the way things stand right now, you’ll go down in history as a slimy little creep who ran off and left everyone to starve.”
“History?” Albert mocked.
