“Look, Sally,” Gary said. “Maybe you
“You keep out of this, asshole,” Sally snarled.
Gary laughed, startled. “Okay.”
“You just want to keep me under control,” Sally said. “That’s the reason you don’t want me to have it.”
“Bullshit,” Steve answered.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Afraid I’ll shoot you?”
“Accidentally? Maybe.”
“If I did, it wouldn’t be an accident,” she answered, with a vehemence Gary didn’t understand.
“Sally, don’t talk like that,” Steve said.
“You’re always making my choices for me,” Sally went on. “Keeping me from doing what I want-”
“I’m only trying to keep you from hurting yourself.”
“-Or making me do things I feel really bad about.”
“Oh, like what?”
“Give me the pistol, Steve.”
“Forget it.”
“I want it, Steve.”
“What are you going to do? Walk out on me?”
“I could tell a little secret. I wonder what Gary would think of you then?”
Steve’s eyes widened, just for a moment. Then he smiled good- naturedly.
“
“Give me the gun, Steve,” Sally said.
“No,” Steve answered.
Gary watched Sally. She opened her mouth to speak-then snapped it shut again, evidently losing her nerve. Steve turned to Gary.
“Sounds pretty sinister, huh?” he asked.
“Depends,” Gary answered, embarrassed.
“Got any dirty linen in your marriage?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“We’ve just had some problems, that’s all. Nothing spectacular. Sally can make anything sound dramatic-”
“Hey,” Gary broke in, “did I ask about it? Whatever it is, I don’t care.”
Steve laughed. “Okay, then.”
Sally was sitting across from him; he nudged her with his foot.
“Love you, Sally,” he said.
“That’s just great,” she answered.
Once the painkillers kicked in, they felt sufficiently recovered to go get the dry suits. Standing at the front of the old store, floorboards creaking under their feet, they eyed the diving shop across the street.
“I’ll take a look,” Gary said. Poking his head out the door, he glanced north and south. “Coast’s clear,” he announced.
Leaving the pharmacy, they crossed to the diving store. Its front door was wide open, stopped by a wedge.
“Bet the owner left in a real hurry,” Steve said as they entered.
They quickly found dry suits, donned them, and put their clothes back on over them. With his injured shoulder, Steve had a good deal of trouble, but Sally helped. Linda and Gary took turns on watch.
“Anything else we want in here?” Steve asked, condensation pluming his breath. “Think we could use the spear-guns?”
“Nope,” Gary said. “Good for nothing. What we could really use is a couple of Remington 1100s, full auto.”
“That would really make chopped meat out of the bastards, wouldn’t it?” Steve said, with relish. “Think anything worthwhile might be left in that sporting goods place down the way?”
“Some ammo. Maybe. But there must’ve been a big rush for firearms through here.”
“These suits are really
“Better then freezing, honey,” Steve said.
From the sound of it, Gary guessed he tacked the
“Linda,” Gary said, “anything moving out there?”
“Nothing so-” she broke off.
“What?” Gary whispered.
“Get down!” she answered, dropping on one knee beside the window. Gary and the others took cover.
“Should’ve closed the front door,” Steve said. “Shit. This is the first place they’ll look.”
“Not if they noticed it was propped open before,” Gary answered. “If we’d closed it…”
Linda came army-crawling up the aisle toward them.
“How many?” Gary asked.
“Just one,” she answered. “It was looking out from an alley across the street. I think it saw me.”
“Back door time,” Steve said.
“Right,” Gary answered.
Rising to a crouch, he led the way toward the rear of the store. Opening the door, he let the others through first, then heard footsteps and looked back.
Four figures were racing for the front door, but not with the stiff-legged stride of the dead. And even though the foremost’s face was in shadow, Gary recognized the build and gait, and laughed out loud.
“Max!” he cried, rushing back up the aisle. “Max!”
Max stopped a few yards into the store, Dennis, Camille, and Father Chuck piling in behind him.
“Gary?” Max called.
Gary clapped his arms around him, Linda and the rest of Gary’s group bringing up the rear. Linda and Camille hugged each other, Camille planting a loud kiss on Linda’s cheek.
“We’d all better get back from the window,” Max said.
They moved farther into the store; all except Dennis, who remained to watch the street.
“Let me guess,” Gary said. “You’re here for dry suits.”
“We’re from the same litter,” Max answered. “Got yours already? “
“Yeah. But you have to tell me how-”
Max cut him off. “First things first. Let us get outfitted, okay?”
“Sure,” Gary said. “Here, take my flashlight.” Fishing it from his coat pocket, he handed it to his brother.
Yet once the newcomers had suited up, Max insisted the group should leave immediately, brushing aside Gary’s pleas to hear what had happened. Gary knew it was wise to get moving, but also sensed Max wasn’t eager to tell the story.
Max had changed. There was something haunted in his eyes. Indeed, Max’s whole presence seemed somehow diminished, shrunken. What had he been through?
They made a quick search of the sporting goods store nearby. There were no guns left, but there was ammo for the Beretta and the assault rifles, as well as two containers of black powder, which Max took to make bombs. He also picked up a machete.
“Force of habit,” he explained cryptically to Gary, not saying how he lost the other.
Farther along, the food store had also been plundered, although many of the shelves remained a third or so full-the looters hadn’t had time to strip the place clean. Unable to find any dried goods, the group stocked up on canned stuff, filled their all but empty canteens with RC Cola-it was the only drink left-and set out once more.
They spent the remainder of the night looking vainly for usable boats, and weaving their way southward among the fine old shingled summer homes on the western shore of the peninsula. As day drew near, they climbed through
