Sanctuary (14 page)

"Will you be gone when I wake up?"

"Yes, but not for long," he said. "I'll be back as soon as I find a car."

"Promise me you'll be careful, Daddy."

"I will. Stay close to Aunt Meredith. Tim and I will be back before you know it."

Dan kissed her again, then shut off the flashlight and snuck back to his blankets.

Keller lay in bed, listening to Dan and Quinn's conversation through the wall. His stomach churned. With the lights off, the bed could've been his own childhood bedroom, the voices those of his mother and her friends. Only those voices were never soft and soothing—they were loud and boisterous, and they'd always been accompanied by the clink of bottles, the sharing of substances.

His childhood sleeping hours had been erratic, interrupted. Because of that, he'd learned to ignore the noise in the background, focusing on getting rest when he could find it. But he didn't want to rest now.

He was too busy thinking of John.

How he'd pushed the man from the bed of the truck. How he'd successfully killed the man in front of his friends, and how he hadn't gotten caught. The image made Tim smile. He could still see the man's face as the creatures had overtaken him, the look of surprise and horror as John had realized what was happening. But that knowledge had died with him. Dan, Quinn, and Meredith would never find out.

He was able to absorb their pain. To live their loss through their eyes.
 

In some ways, it was the closest to family Tim had ever gotten.
 

Listening to Dan and Quinn in the next room, he realized he needed that feeling again. It was an experience he hadn't had before. In the old world, his kills had been quick and calculated, his enjoyment dulled by the need to cover up what he was doing. He no longer needed to abide by those rules.

John's death had satiated him in ways his previous kills hadn't. He was able to see the look on his companions' faces and live their emotions firsthand. It opened up a new world to him, a new way to create and absorb memories that would last forever.

He'd separate Dan from his family next. Then he'd bring the news back to Meredith and Quinn. With Dan gone, he'd be free to take his time with them.
 

Killing John had been spontaneous. But he was glad he'd done it.

It was exactly what he was looking for. Soon he'd replace a childhood of weakness with an adulthood of strength, and he'd rebuild the tainted memories that haunted him. Tim sucked deep breaths in the darkness, listening to John's screams echo in his head. It was time to move on to the others.

When Dan opened his eyes, it was morning. His head was pounding from the previous day's exertion, and he was groggy from sleep. He was surprised he'd been able to sleep at all, given what they'd been through. He crept down the stairs so as not to wake the others. Meredith was still awake.
 

She gave him a thin smile as he walked in. She was sitting in a rocking chair by the living room window, holding Tim's rifle. Ernie sat by her feet.
 

"Were you able to get any sleep?" she whispered.

"A little," Dan admitted.
 

She parted the shade, allowing a few rays of morning light to creep in. "How about Quinn?"

"Yep. She's still conked out. I didn't want to wake her. Thanks for keeping watch, Meredith," he said.

"There wasn't much to watch over. It was quiet." She wiped her face, and he could tell she'd been crying. "I kept staring out the window all night, thinking I'd see John coming down the street. A few times, I swore I did. But when I looked, there was nothing there."

"I know how hard this is."

Dan put his hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look at him. "Promise me you'll be careful, Dan. I can't go through this again. I can't stand to lose anyone else."

"I'll be careful."

Meredith stood. She set the gun on the floor and embraced him, and he could feel the wet trickle of tears on his face. He swallowed and let go.

Tim padded downstairs, as if he'd been waiting. He looked like he hadn't slept much.
 

"Ready to get a move on?" Tim asked.

Dan nodded. They said goodbye to Meredith and headed for the door.

Dan watched the house recede behind him. In the past week, he'd rarely been apart from the girls, and the idea of leaving made him uneasy. At the same time, he knew he and Tim had the best chance at getting a vehicle and making it back in short order.

He jogged with his pistol drawn. Tim jogged with his blade. Dan had a kitchen knife tucked in his belt, as well, but it hardly made him feel any better. The thought of the horde of creatures they'd seen earlier was unsettling. Weapons alone wouldn't ward them all off. Their best bet was to stay low and out of sight, in the hopes that they could avoid confrontation.

Endless fields spanned both sides of the road. Overgrown grass sprung from the ground, as if intent on reaching the heavens. The sky was a cloudless blue.

Dan and Tim kept to the road's edge—close enough that they could hide in the field if they needed to, but far enough not to compromise their safety. Dan had no idea what might be lurking within the fields, and he wasn't about to risk traversing them. As they jogged, Dan kept an eye on the street.
 

In another situation, an approaching car might be a welcome sight, but he knew better than to think that now.
 

"Thanks for coming with me. I hope Meredith and Quinn will be all right," Dan said.

"I'm sure they'll be fine. I didn't feel right letting you go alone. I figured you could use a hand. I might not be a police officer, but I'll do my best to pitch in."

Dan nodded. They'd done a good job securing the house, and they shouldn't be gone long.
Meredith and Quinn will be fine
, he told himself.
 

He resumed traveling, trying to cast aside his worry.

Tim matched his pace. They moved in silence for several minutes, keeping a watchful eye on the land around them. After a while, they settled into a rhythm.

"I don't think I slept more than an hour last night," Tim confessed.
 

"Me neither," Dan said.

"That was awful, what happened to John. I've been trying to stay positive. I keep telling myself this is the day we'll reach help. That we'll find that helicopter, the military,
something
…"

"Me too."
 

"Do you have any other family, Dan? Or is it just you, Quinn, and Meredith?"

"Just us."

"That's too bad. Meredith told me about your wife. I'm sorry for your loss."

"I tried my best to save her. There was just nothing I could do. She was one of the first people to be infected. I don't know what's worse—being killed by one of those things or becoming one of them."

"I understand. I miss my family, too. Losing people is one of the worst things to deal with."

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Dan thought of Quinn's hopeful eyes while he'd read her the Bible, the expression of concern on Meredith's face when he'd left.

"Losing John just reinforces my reason for being here," Dan said.
 

"What reason do you think that is?"

"To protect the ones I have left."
 

"That would make a little more sense, wouldn't it?" Tim smiled grimly.
 

They rounded another bend, the next stretch of scenery interchangeable with the last. Birds flew overhead, cawing, as if intent on guiding them.

"How far did Meredith say the next house was?" Tim asked.

"It should be close, if I recall correctly."

"That's what I thought. I sure hope so. I'm getting a stitch in my side."

Dan slowed his pace. Because of his former position on the force, he'd stayed in good shape, but he'd neglected to consider the shape of his companion.
 

"Sorry. Why don't we slow down a bit?"

Dan reduced his speed to a walk, allowing Tim to catch his wind. They kept a comfortable pace for several minutes. Soon they approached a bend in the road. Dan shielded his face with his hand. As they approached the turn, he glimpsed something other than fields.

"That must be it!" Dan said.

Tim followed his gaze, breathing a sigh of excitement. On the horizon, like an answer to their prayers, was a white farmhouse. Next to it was a garage.
 

"Come on, Tim, let's go!" Dan said.

Dan approached the property with caution, his gun leveled in front of him. From what he could tell, the house was vacant, but he couldn't take any chances. Tim approached with similar hesitation, holding his knife. Dan was grateful to have backup.

The house was a shingled Victorian with a railed porch and an abundance of windows. Next to it was a detached garage, the doors closed. As they entered the property, Dan glanced at the mailbox, noting the name "Stodley" in painted letters on the side.
 

Dan scanned the windows of the house, half-expecting to see a face peering at him from the interior, but saw only dust and grime. This house was more unkempt than the one they'd stayed at, and he got the distinct feeling that it'd been vacant for more than a week.

He glanced over at Tim, who was awaiting direction.

"I'll check the house," Dan mouthed. "Wait here."
 

Tim nodded in acknowledgement.

Dan crept across the lawn to the front porch, muting his footsteps as he ascended. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to quell the creak of old wood, and his nerves felt like they'd been prodded with a hot poker. The front door was open a crack, as if the occupants had left in a hurry.

Either that, or someone had gone in uninvited.
 

He used his boot to kick open the door, then stepped back and aimed his gun inside. Noticing several cobwebs draped across the doorframe, he relaxed slightly. He doubted anyone was inside.

After clearing the house, he exited the front door.

"No one," he said to Tim.
 

They made their way to the garage. Dan peered through the dust-covered windows, catching a glimpse of a vehicle inside. He reached down and pulled the handle. To his relief, it opened without resistance.

"Check it out," Tim said, pointing to the car in front of them.

The vehicle—a white Ford Falcon from the '70s—seemed to be in mint condition.

"Nice," Dan muttered, grateful for the stroke of luck.

"Did you see any keys inside the house?"

"If they were there, I didn't see them."

Dan proceeded to the driver's-side door and peered inside. The lock was unengaged. He opened the door and got inside. On a hunch, he folded down the visor and found a spare key taped to the other side.
 

"It's like someone knew we were coming," he remarked with a smile.

"Does it have gas?" Tim asked.

"We'll find out in a minute."

Dan inserted the key and turned it to the "on" position, watching the gas gauge climb. The vehicle had a half tank.
 

"Let's see if it fires," he said, turning the key.

The vehicle roared to life. Relief washed over him. Not only had they found a vehicle, but it was in good working order, and it had enough gas to keep them going. Dan set his gun on his lap and looked behind him, ready to instruct Tim to get inside.

A fist struck him in the face.
 

Dan's vision went bleary, and his cheek burned with pain. He reached for the gun in his lap, but before he could retrieve it, someone hit him again. Dan's head sagged against the headrest. Through the haze, he saw his attacker pluck the gun and take aim at his head.

It was Tim.

In a flash, three thoughts hit Dan: he'd been deceived, he'd been lied to, and he was going to die.

Meredith watched Quinn, a pit in her stomach. Ever since Dan had left, she'd been trying to quell the little girl's unease. But she was grateful Tim had accompanied him.

At least there were two of them out there. That increased the odds.

Elsewhere in the house, the floorboards creaked. Ernie was pacing again. The dog seemed just as nervous as his companions.
 

Quinn was leafing through several magazines she'd found on the bedroom nightstand. Every once in a while, she'd stop on a page and stare at the words, but Meredith suspected she was immersed in thought.

"Do you think the owners will ever come back here?"

"It's possible."

"If they don't, maybe we can move in." Quinn smiled.
 

"It's a nice house. But I'd rather go somewhere safe. Wouldn't you? Somewhere we don't have to worry about things as much?"

"I'd like to get to Abbotsville. But the most important thing is that we're all together."

Meredith patted her on the knee. "That's sweet of you to say."
 

Quinn put down the magazine, her eyes tearing. "I miss John."