He handed off the last can and shook his hand, trying to revive the feeling in his fingers. He turned and tried to take an inventory of the people available. He saw a handful of women and one pre-teen. The rest were males, but in their current state, they didn’t look like they were in much condition to wage war.
He knew that he had seen at least one larger man when he was opening the cans. He looked like he might be a force to reckon with.
Simon walked slowly through the store, searching for the big fellow. He rounded the last aisle and saw him sitting alone in the corner, his fingers swiping at the contents at the bottom of a can.
“I think we should talk.” He stood over the guy and tried to measure him up. The fellow glanced up at Simon then turned his attention back to the chipped beef. Simon kicked the bottom of his foot. “I’m talking to you.”
The large man didn’t look up a second time. He continued to dig at the bottom of the can, licking the white goo from his fingers. He held the can out and stared into it then set it on the ground next to him. He finally raised his eyes, and Simon felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.
This guy looked like he had zero body fat, but still plenty of lean, sinewy muscle. He was no bodybuilder, but he looked like he could rip the head off of somebody and spit down their windpipe with little to no effort.
Simon squatted and continued to study him. “I need to know who the best fighters are.”
The man continued to stare at him, a blank expression on his face.
Simon waited then leaned closer. “Do you understand me?”
The man nodded.
“Then answer my question. Who are your best fighters?”
“Don’t fight.”
Simon sighed and wiped his hand across his face. “Who are your best hunters? The best killers?”
The man nodded then slapped at his chest. He stared at Simon then slowly extended his hand. His finger was bent but he pointed out two other men. “We hunt.”
“That’s it?” The large man nodded slowly. Simon inhaled deeply and stared at him. “Where are your other hunters?”
The man cocked his head to the side then made a ball of his hands. With a quick motion he spread them out, his fingers splaying. “Boom.”
“Boom?” Simon sat forward and blinked at him. “Boom. Like, they exploded?”
The man slowly nodded then scooped up one of the empty cans to search for more scraps.
Simon sat down hard and wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them tight. He turned quickly to the large fellow and tapped at the side of his foot. “Are there other groups out there?”
The fellow quit scraping the can with his finger and stared at Simon menacingly. “Others?”
“Like us.” Simon held his hand out. “You know. Dumb, pale, don’t like the sun.” He leaned closer. “Starving.”
“Quee.”
“Quee?” Simon wasn’t sure he heard correctly.
The fellow nodded. “Quee.” He continued to scrape the can.
Simon scratched at his head. “Exactly how many is ‘quee’? More than a handful?” He looked expectantly to the tall guy. “A LOT?” he asked, excitement at the probability rising.
The fellow tossed the can to the side with a clang. “WE are Quee.” He slapped at his chest.
Simon stared open mouthed for a moment. “We…are…”
“Quee!” The man slapped at his chest.
“We are…Quee.” Simon had his epiphany. “Oh, I get you. Our kind are called the Quee.” He snorted. “Sounds like an Indian tribe.” He chuckled to himself. “The Cherokee, the Sioux, the Chickasaws, the Quee…”
The tall man jumped to his feet and glared at Simon. “No laugh. We are Quee.” He slapped at his chest again and Simon recalled seeing similar actions by a gorilla in a movie or…something. He nodded slowly.
“No offense, big guy.” He came to his feet and nodded slowly. “We are Quee.” He returned the man’s stare until his features softened. “So, are there other Quee out there? People we could…help?”
“Help?”
Simon shrugged. “Surely they’re hungry, too.” He eyed the man cautiously. “We could…invite them over to eat with us. Get to know them. Maybe…invite them to stay a while.”
He watched the large man’s eyes narrow and it slowly turned into a glare. “Why?”
Simon finally threw caution to the wind. “Because those people who made your other hunters go ‘BOOM’? I want them. I want to kill them. I want to rip their hearts out and eat them.”
The large man continued to stare at him then slowly nodded. “Others out there.” He pointed toward the front of the store.
Simon smiled. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go meet the neighbors.” He slapped the large man on the back. “Hustle up, short stack. We’re burning moonlight.”
Chapter 10
Hatcher stared into the inky blackness. He glanced at his watch then turned back to the gates. “They should have been back by now.”
Roger nodded slowly, not allowing his worry to show. “I’m sure they’re fine. Maybe they hit a motherlode.” He glanced at Hatcher and shrugged. “Or they’re pinned down and have to wait it out.”
Hatcher slowly shook his head. “They would have radioed for backup.”
Roger paled and lowered his voice. “Are we sure that Simon is dead?”
Hatcher inhaled deeply and sighed. “I trust Buck. He wouldn’t lie. He said that Simon was bit and dying. I believe him.”
Roger rubbed at his chin. “What if he survived?”
Hatcher grunted. “Then he’d be a Zulu. Incapable of rational thought.”
Roger raised a brow at him. “You keep forgetting Patricia.”
“I haven’t forgotten her. But for every one of her there are thousands of them.” He nodded toward the darkness. “Do you really think the odds are in his favor?”
Roger sighed heavily and frowned. “I hate to say it, Hatch, but people like Simon can fall into a bucket of shit
