Jack brought the coffee cup up to his lips, first giving the substance a smell.
Alcohol.
The government hadn’t exactly banned the sale of it, but with anything that could be used for food or fuel, booze became both hard to find and amazingly expensive.
“And it’s okay to drink this?”
“Been having it every night. Under the stars. It’s a beautiful thing.”
Tom extended his cup for a toasting clink. Jack knocked his cup into Tom’s.
“Down the hatch,” he said. The smell: gasoline. The taste: well … maybe this was what gasoline tasted like.
“Whoa. Nobody light any matches around us.”
“The cook brews it up. Somehow. The kitchen workers can get you a bottle. Supposedly Ed Lowe doesn’t know about it. Keeping this place all about family fun and stuff.”
Jack took another sip, suddenly less eye-popping than the first.
“I’m guessing … a little bit goes a long way?”
“Got that right.”
Then, quiet. The sound of singing began to echo from the lake below. The bonfire’s glow flickered in and out of the dense trees that shielded the cabins.
Jack turned to Tom. “So, Tom—what do you do?”
He tried to keep the cop-tone out of his voice.
“Do—or did? I used to work at a research center run by NYU in the city. Now I work at one of those government supply centers. Handing out food when we have it. Place is a zoo.”
“What kind of research?”
The question seemed to make Tom hesitate.
“Lots of things. You’ve heard of GM food? Genetically modified? My lab experimented with that a lot. All government funded. Modifying strings of DNA, playing with—oh, I’m just boring you.”
“Not at all.”
Tom didn’t continue.
The sounds rolling up from the lake were undecipherable. Voices, laughs, a squeal. The fire casting a reddish-yellow glow over the water.
“What happened?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you leave?”
“The government shut the whole thing down. Actually, they cherry-picked a few of the team, brought them to Washington. Think they were disappointed in the rest of us. Like we couldn’t stop what was happening.”
“Then—this was after?”
Tom looked at Jack. “After? You mean after the world went to hell, after the food started disappearing? Yeah.
Jack wondered if Tom had something do with what happened. So many theories. Experiments gone wrong. Tinkering with food production.
But already the shared sips of alcohol had lost their zing. Too many questions.
“Now, I just hand out what passes for food these days.” Tom said, closing the door on that part of the conversation.
It was something that Jack would like to get back to.
“And you—what’s your line of work?”
Jack took another sip. Almost done, and he didn’t think he wanted a refill.
“I’m a cop.”
“Really? Wow. Could have fooled me. I mean, you don’t
And was that comment supposed to be a compliment?
People got funny around cops.
“I’m on vacation. On the down-low, as the kids say.”
Tom took a breath. “And how is it out there? On the streets. Getting worse?”
Jack looked away. “Worse? Not getting better. Looks to me … like it’s spreading.”
“Shit.”
“Each day, new blocks. Gone. More Can Heads. No new cops.”
“You know, there was a theory one of the guys in my lab had. That this was how the dinosaurs ended. Feeding off each other. That’s what really wiped them out.”
“Really? I could believe it. When you see humans hovering over a body, slicing it into pieces like crazy butchers, bundling the goddamned meat up like—”
Jack suddenly realized that he had gone too deep into the hole. The hole of being a cop. Fighting them.
“Sorry. Get carried away, you know. That’s what’s good about being here. Shake all that shit off. Get away from all that ‘beware your neighbor’ paranoia.”
“Except not one who has some booze, hm? And this is a good place, Jack. Lot of guards. The gorgeous lake. Enough food. Not a bad place at all.” Then: “Glad you guys are our neighbors.”
He clinked his glass against Jack’s.
“And you’re staying a few more days, right?”
“Yeah. No one wants to leave. What the hell do we head back to? No real family for us. Least not around New York. The family would love to just stay here forever.”
“You and a lot of people, I guess.”
Tom again reached down for the milk bottle filled with the clear liquid.
“Refill?”
Jack was about to say no thanks. Instead, he held out his cup and watched Tom pour.
* * *
The cabin was quiet.
Kate and Simon in bed. Windows wide open so a cool breeze blew in. The occasional sounds from the woods.
Christie sniffed, taking in the strong smell of alcohol on Jack’s breath, and smiled when he said, “You wouldn’t have liked it.”
Now he lay in the bed, the background noise in his ears, Christie close, her back to him.
Not feeling sleepy.
Not at all.
He inched a bit closer so that his body pressed against hers.
He put an arm around her and with the precision borne of years together, his hand smoothly cupped her right breast.
He felt himself stir against her. Always a good feeling.
But then Christie turned to him.
“Want some sugar, hm?”
Her face caught the scant light of the room. No moon outside, but the glow from the lights on the paths filtered into the room a bit, outlining her face.
“Could be.”
“Maybe that leggy assistant got you going?”
“No, not at all,” Jack said, realizing how quickly he said it.
Realizing that he hadn’t told Christie about his encounter with her in the parking lot.
Then: “The kids. They’re right there. Not sure they’re asleep.”
“I can be quiet,” he said.
He could make out a smile. “But can I? I think we should wait. When they’re both out for some activity here or something. Okay?”
