Year One (21 page)

“You got it. Ah, stick close to Poe and Kim, okay? They're solid. You can tell. Shaun, he's kind of a jerk, kind of a screwup. I've been one enough to know. But … I know Eric's like your brother-in-law, but something's just not right there.”

“Don't worry. Just come back safe, both of you.”

As she walked back down to see them off, Eddie's words echoed back to her.
Just not right.

He'd said the same about the black circle in the forest.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The trip down the winding mountain road proved hairy in spots, and had Eddie wishing for the days of snowplows and road salt. Better, for the days of sitting out a couple feet of snow in his crap apartment listening to some Kid Cudi, maybe some Pink Floyd while he toked his brains out and munched on Cheetos.

But all in all, he preferred the slipping, sliding trip down to creeping past a few dead-looking houses before what he guessed served as the supply center for hikers, vacationers, and maybe a couple scoops of locals.

He spotted a pretty good-size grocery store with a sign showing a bear on one side, a big-ass buck on the other, with
STANLEY'S PRODUCE AND PHARMACY
in between.

The pharmacy part meant maybe he could do Lana that favor, help her find out if she had a bun in the oven.

Big wow if she did. He cast a sidelong look at Max before scoping out the rest of the half-assed town.

A log-cabin type of place stood directly across the two-lane road. Stanley's Outfitters, and beside that a skinny, glass-fronted place. Stanley's Liquors.

Beer, baby! Please let there be beer!

“I guess this Stanley dude's the big man around here. Gonna run over to the liquor store before we head back, see if there's any beer left.”

“Wouldn't hurt my feelings.”

“Pop the top of a cold one thanks to good old Stanley. But hey, there's something different. Ma Bea's Burgers and More. Maybe she's Stanley's ma.”

Max eased to a stop in front of the market. Sat a moment, studied the lay of the land.

“We're the first tire tracks through since the last storm, but I see some footprints, so somebody's here, or somebody's been here in the last couple days.”

“The quiet creeps me, man. I sure as hell don't want to get my ass shot again.” Eddie lifted his chin toward the market. “I guess that's first stop. Food before beer.”

“Food, beer, propane.” Max got out, slung the rifle he'd brought with him over his shoulder. “Let's see what's left in the market.”

The door, unlocked, opened smoothly. Two neat lines of carts stood across from four checkout stations. Metal handbaskets were stacked in a pyramid, as if waiting patiently for shoppers who just needed a few things. Max kept a hand on the gun at his hip as he scanned the store.

Floors gleamed clean. He could spot plenty of empty shelves down aisles, but what remained appeared to be in neat and orderly groups.

“Weird.” Beside him, Eddie fidgeted. “It's like they're open for business, right, and expecting the truck to roll up so they can restock the shelves. Like, you know, normal.”

“Stanley runs a tight ship.”

At that Eddie snickered. “I guess we oughta do some shopping.” So saying, he pulled out a cart with a rattle. “I'm gonna get some stuff for Joe. Bet they got Milk-Bones.”

“Take the left, I'll take the right. We'll work toward the center.”

Weird
covered it, Max thought as he passed the produce section. Not a single leaf of lettuce remained, but the tubs sparkled clean. No milk or cream in the dairy section, but it surprised him to find butter, some cheeses.

He loaded the cart with what he judged most necessary and practical. Shelf talkers showed him what wasn't there. Anything perishable. No fresh fruits, no fresh vegetables, but he found flour, sugar, salt, baking soda and powder, dried spices and herbs.

Canned goods had taken a hard hit, but he still found soups, beans, cans of tomato paste and sauce. He picked up a can of Spam, grinning as he added it to his load because he knew it would make Lana laugh.

She could use a laugh.

He moved on to pasta and rice when he heard Eddie's voice.

“Hey! How's it going?”

Max drew the gun from his hip, felt the weight of the rifle on his shoulder. He moved, fast and quiet, toward the sound of Eddie's voice.

“Cool, 'cause I'm not looking for trouble. That's some awesome dog you got there. Maybe he wants a Milk-Bone. I just got some here for my dog.”

Max heard the low growl, and Eddie's nervous laugh.

“Okay, maybe not.”

Max eased around the back of the aisle, saw the back of a man—a boy, he corrected—and the big gray dog at his side. And though he didn't make a sound, both the dog and the boy turned.

“I'm not afraid of you, either.”

Fifteen, maybe sixteen, Max judged, on the thin side with a shaggy, choppy mop of bark-colored hair and fearless eyes of sharp green.

When his canine companion growled again, the boy laid a hand on its head.

Going with instinct, Max holstered his gun.

“There's no need to be, as we're not looking to harm. We need supplies. We're not looking to hurt anyone or take what someone else needs.”

“You're the one with the guns,” the boy pointed out.

“Just being careful,” Eddie put in before Max could speak. “I got shot awhile back just for walking my dog.”

The boy looked back at Eddie. “Where?”

“Oh, it was back in … You mean on me,” he realized, and tapped a finger under his collarbone. “One minute me and Joe are taking a leak, you know, and walking back to the car, and
bam!
I'd've been in shit city if Lana—that's Max's girl—and Max hadn't fixed me. Sewed me up with a needle and thread and took care of me even though they'd hardly just met me.”

He rolled his shoulder gingerly as it throbbed with memory pain.

“Let's see.”

“Yeah?” Obliging, Eddie unzipped his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, tugged down the waffle shirt under it to show off his wound. “Doesn't look so bad now, since Lana took the stitches out yesterday. Still hurts some. Back here, too.” He jerked his thumb behind him. “'Cause the bullet went clean through.”

Dispassionately, the boy studied the wound. “It's healing well enough. Did you shoot anybody?”

“Nope. Hope I don't never have to. We, like, you know, come in peace.”

“Where's your dog?”

“Joe? He's back at the…” He trailed off, looked back at Max. “It's okay, right, if I tell him?”

“I'm not talking to him yet,” the boy said. “I'll talk to him later.”

“Okay, well, see Max's brother had a friend who had a place up in the forest, so Max and Lana and me—and Joe—we made it there.”

“Who's the friend?”

“Shaun— Shit, Max, I don't remember his last name.”

“Iseler,” Max supplied.

“I know the Iselers. They shop here. We stocked the cabin like we do every year.” Obviously deciding he'd speak to Max now, the boy turned. “Are they up there?”

“They didn't make it,” Max said. “Shaun did. We did. We're eight.”

“And Joe,” Eddie added. “What's your dog's name?”

“He's Lupa,” the boy said, and smiled. “He wouldn't mind a biscuit.”

“Sure.” Eddie dug down in the basket, opened the box of Milk-Bones. “Ah, he's not going to take my hand off, is he?”

“Not unless I tell him to.”

“Ha-ha. Don't, okay? Here you go, Lupa. Nothing like a Milk-Bone, right?”

Lupa studied Eddie with steady eyes of burnished gold, then nipped the biscuit out of his fingers. “He's some good-looking dog. Can I…” Eddie made a stroking motion.

“He'll let you know.”

Cautious, Eddie held out a hand, eased it toward Lupa's head. When Lupa didn't growl or snarl, Eddie took the chance, ran his hand over the fur. “Oh, yeah, that's right. You're one beautiful bastard, yeah, you are.”

“Have you got a name?” Max asked.

The boy said, “Yeah,” and nothing more.

“Is this your place?”

“I guess it is now. It was my uncle's. He's dead.”

“I'm sorry.”

Now the boy shrugged. “He was an asshole. Knocked me around every chance he got.”

“I'll be sorry for that instead. We can pay for at least some of the supplies.”

“I'll put it on the Iseler account,” he said and smirked. “Money doesn't mean dick anymore.”

“No, but we can barter.”

“You haven't got anything I need. You might as well take what you want.”

“Are you alone here?”

“No. We're fine.”

“Store sure is clean,” Eddie commented.

“My aunt and I cleaned it up after … after. She's dead now, too. She did the best she could. You didn't come in to bust things up. Otherwise, Lupa and I wouldn't be so friendly, so you can take what you need.”

“We're grateful,” Max told him. “One thing we need is propane. Is there any chance we can take a truck up to the Iseler place, fill the generator?”

The boy's eyebrows lifted into the hair that flopped over his forehead. “The chance would be getting a truck up there on these roads.”

“We'll manage, if we can take one.”

The boy studied Max a moment, nodded. “All right. Load up what you're taking, and I'll show you.”

“Is it okay if I check across the street, take some beer if there's any?”

“I don't like the taste of it. If you find it, you can take it.”

Thinking of the boy, and whoever he might have with him, Max took less of everything than he would have otherwise.

“You should come with us,” he told the boy as they loaded the supplies. “It's a big house, and we'll have supplies, heat, light.”

“No. I like the quiet.” He paused a moment. “But it's good of you to offer. I'll remember that.”

“If you change your mind, you know where we are.”

“I know where you are. You're going to drive to the other side of town, take the first bend to the left. Can't miss Stanley's Fucking Gas and Electric. You'll see three propane trucks in the back lot. The first one on the left's more than half full, so you should take that. Don't blow yourself up,” he added with a half smile.

“Thanks.” Eddie bent down, gave Lupa another enthusiastic pet. “See you around, boy, see you later. You ought to come on up and play with Joe. Thanks, man,” he said again.

“If you need anything, or if there's trouble, find your way to us,” Max told him. “Even if you just want a hot meal. My woman's a hell of a cook.”

“We get by.” The boy laid his hand on Lupa's head, stepped back.

Max got behind the wheel.

“Don't like leaving him,” Eddie said.

“We can't make him come. But we'll drive down next week, check on him, bring him a hot meal, some of Lana's bread—I found plenty of yeast.”

He glanced in the rearview, saw the boy standing in the middle of the road, watching them.

Saw the light shimmer around him, heard the voice clear and cool in his head.

I'm Flynn.

“His name is Flynn.”

“Huh? How do you know?”

“He just told me. He has elfin blood.”

“He has … He's an elf?” Mouth gaping open, Eddie swiveled around to look back. “Like, you know, Will Ferrell in the movie?”

With a delight he'd all but forgotten, Max laughed. “Christ, Eddie, you never fail me. No, not like that. He's magickal, and I have a strong feeling if we'd had any thoughts about causing trouble back there, we wouldn't be driving away with supplies and propane.”

“Ain't that some shit? I met a fucking elf. Well, I guess he'll be all right then. And he's got that big dog, too.”

“That's not a dog. His name says what he is.
Lupa
. Wolf.”

“Now you're shitting me. You're not shitting me,” Eddie realized. “I gave a Milk-Bone to a
wolf?
I petted a wolf? That is freaking awesome!”

“It's a brave new world, Eddie.” Max made the turn at the bend. “It's a brave new fucking world.”

*   *   *

At the house, Lana kept herself busy adapting her recipe for Tuscan Chicken to the ingredients on hand. Both Kim and Poe stayed in the great room while she worked and, as she'd waved off their offers of help, passed the time playing Scrabble.

“Treenail? Give me a break.” Not for the first time in the match, Poe jabbed a finger at Kim's play. “What's that, a nail in a damn tree?”

Her lashes, long over exotic Asian eyes, fluttered. “Is that a challenge? Again?”

“You're bluffing this time. Playing off that
e
, using all seven fricking letters. And you hit a double word score? I call bullshit.”

“Big, bad dictionary's right there. Challenge me. Lose a turn.”

He actually pushed up, paced around a little, and distracted Lana out of her worried, angry mood enough to make her laugh. “How many challenges have you lost?” Lana asked him.

“Three, but … Hell. You're bullshitting, I just know it. I'm tossing down the glove.”

“And you lose again.” Kim picked up the dictionary, flipped through. “Treenail—one of its four spellings. A wooden peg, pin, or dowel used to—”

She broke off, unoffended, even smug, when Poe yanked the dictionary out of her hand. “Son of a bitch!”

When he flopped down again, Kim took seven letters out of the bag, lined them up, rubbed her hands together. “Now, let's see.”

The game stopped as the door to the mudroom opened, closed again. Poe straightened in his seat, and his sulky face went blank and hard.

Eric came in, his hand holding Allegra's.

“Chill,” he said when he saw Poe's face. “Seriously,” he added when Poe got slowly to his feet. “I was a dick. A total dick. I'm sorry. Lana, especially to you, but all-around sorry. No excuses. I was a dick and, if it helps any, I feel like a dick.”

“He really is sorry, and so am I. It's partly my fault.”

“It's not.” Eric let go of Allegra's hand to put his arm around her.

“It is. I've been complaining about being bored, feeling closed-in. Just being all-around bitchy. I pushed Eric into a mood, and he took it out on you. And he … he only took some of the food for me, to cheer me up. We both knew it was stupid and wrong. We won't do it again.”