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I could hear the guys shuffling closer behind us, still out of view from the man’s penetrating eyes, but Fallon held up a fist to stop them in mid-stride. I imagined that Calax would be glowering. He really didn’t like people holding guns to my head.
Not that I could blame him. I wasn’t the biggest fan either.
“Are you one of them?” he continued. His voice was scratchy, as if it had been used continually. Or, and this seemed the more likely scenario, as if he had screamed it dry. Why my mind went to that I would never know, but there was something almost haunting in Mr. Shotgun’s face. He looked...fearful. Somehow, that vulnerability cracking through demoted him from scary to somewhat approachable.
“Please sir,” I said, trying to control the waver in my voice. “We’re not one of those creatures. We just wanted to buy your van off of you. Our own car got stuck on the highway a few miles back.”
He did not lower the weapon, but his finger moved from where it was poised over the trigger. Small reliefs.
“What do you have to offer?” he asked stiffly, and I nodded for Fallon to continue the conversation.
“How much money do you want?” he asked in his no-nonsense voice. The old man actually laughed at that. Cackled would be a better description. I eyed the man like he had lost his mind. It would be just our luck for us to ask a psychopathic serial killer for help.
Laughter still evident in his voice, he said, “I don’t want your fucking money. What supplies do you have? Any food? Medicine?”
I blinked. No money?
It suddenly occurred to me that the world was changing rapidly. What else had changed in the last few days?
No, I suppose the more accurate question was what else would change?
The thought sent pinpricks of terror down my spine. If we changed the way we behaved, changed the societal norms for humanity, then we were screwed. People would do anything if they became desperate, including acts they once had deemed atrocious.
Putting those demented thoughts to the back of my mind, I listened attentively as Fallon spoke.
“No medicine,” he said easily, though I knew that was a lie. We had raided the house we had previously been at, taking two first aid kits and all the pill bottles we could find. It never made sense to me in movies for the main characters to only grab the specific medicine they needed. What about in the future? I was determined for our group not to fall into the stereotypical horror-movie roles. If that meant grab all the medicine, then we would grab all the fucking medicine.
“But,” Fallon continued, “we have a bag full of food.”
That was also a lie. We had at least six bags full.
Fallon nodded his head towards me, and I obediently slipped off my backpack and opened it for the man to see. It was the lightest pack of the bunch, only consisting of twenty or so cans and half as many water bottles.
As the man surveyed the contents of my bag, I couldn’t help but compare this exchange to that of a drugmovie I had seen.
“Do you have all the money?”
“Yeah, man. I have the money. Now where’s my drugs?”
Okay, so they may not have spoken like that, but you get the idea.
After a moment of indecision, the man nodded stiffly.
“Fine,” he said at last. “It’s not like I’m going to use that vehicle. But I want the backpack as well.”
“Deal,” Fallon responded immediately, taking it from my hands and zipping it back up. He handed it to the man who, in exchange, handed us a set of keys.
“The tank is almost completely full. I haven’t driven the thing since I heard about the attacks.” The man was silent for a second. His keen eyes seemed to slice through my skin, seeing something that I had yet to fully understand. I wondered yet again how he had gotten such a haunted look in his eyes. “I would recommend getting somewhere safe as soon as you can,” he said. “These roads are not safe, especially at night.”
“At night?” Fallon asked. The old man’s words sounded like a horror movie cliché, but I knew there was more to it than an ominous warning.
“The Monsters are active during the day, sure, but it’s at night when things really hit the fan.”
“What do you mean?” Fallon echoed my own thoughts. His fingers absently twirled the key around and around. I noticed, somewhat dizzily, that he had numerous rings adorning his fingers. I wondered why I had never noticed them before.
The man hesitated yet again at Fallon’s innocent question.
“There are many types of monsters,” he settled on. “Just make sure you’re inside when the sun goes down.”
