âDamn, and I really was looking forward to some overpriced hot milk.â Paul shot him an amused smile as he folded up the things heâd used as a make-shift blanket. âJust wait until we get to Hilltop and you get a taste of seven-year-old instant coffee. The stale taste canât be describedâŚâ Not that it was that bad, and it was certainly better than nothing, but the mention of Starbucks brought back fond memories of the little busted coffee pot he had in his apartment. Sometimes it worked, but sometimes it spit out slightly warmish brown water that had a slight coffee flavor. Yeah, he could have replaced itâŚbut then that would have ruined his daily surprise.
Paul was silent until they were in the alley, letting Quentin speak about the car and the store. He gave a quick nod that was meant as a general understanding of the situation and approval that they could check out the store. There was doubt that anything of value would be left inside, but as long as it was safeâŚthere was no harm in checking things out. Sometimes a few diamonds in the rough were found, things that surprised even him.
âLet me go first, okay? Just watch the back. You see anything coming, give me a headâs up.â He was confident in his skill, but if they were surroundedâŚthat was an entirely different thing altogether. There was a momentary pause while he checked the street, and then stepped out to immediately put down the walker that rounded the corner. His forearm was held up, a sign for Quentin to wait as he checked once more. Then, he was beckoning him forward onto a sidewalk that wasâŚsurprisinglyâŚclear. âStore looks clear. I think I see one inside, moving around. ItâsâŚslow, probably really old.â
There was once a time when Paul felt bad abut putting down walkers, like it was â wrong â in some way, some form of murder because theyâd once been someoneâs wife, husband, or family member. Now though? All he saw was the threat. âIf we can get in without much noise, it wonât draw anymore. Get in, look around really quickâŚget to the car.â Spending more time out there than they needed wasnât high on his agenda.
They made it to the door without any further issues, the lack of walkers surprising but not unwelcomed. Paul pulled on the door, rust causing hinges to creak â which captured the attention of the lone walker inside â decayed clothing and name tag saying that he was âTedâ and that heâd once worked behind the counter. âIâve got this.â The store was small enough that a quick glance didnât bring any other threats to immediate light. His knife was pulled free, driving into the skull of the former clerk, black blood wiped on the tattered remains of its pants. âStart checking okay? Just the aisles. Letâs not hit the cooler just yetâŚpeople used those to hide from the dead. Thereâs no telling what we might find in there.â
Hilltop might not have been paradise, but it was pretty close, as far as Quentin was concerned. Mostly because there were people there and as awkward as he could be, Quentin craved company, people to talk to, people to listen to. The depression that had taken hold of his head and his heart in the days since heâd found himself alone lifted. Not all the way. It had been years since he had much in the way of medication, but this⌠this was better.
He had a room. Small room, small enough to feel secure in, with a window too high off the ground to worry about very much. Heâd managed to find a few extra pieces of clothing that fit him and a woman had offered to teach him to sew. That ws going okay. He was never going to be much of a fighter and having some way â any way â to contribute felt good. Not much of a cook but he could chop potatoes for hours with the best of them. After only three or four days, he was feeling comfortable with people, glad to be around them, glad to be helping and learning names.
And had he mentioned that the kids loved him?
That was pretty cool. It had started one afternoon, the day after he and Jesus had arrived, when the rain was coming down hard. Good for the crops. Good for the mushrooms that sprang up a couple of days after a heavy rainfall, heâd been told. Not good for the bored kids who wanted to play outside, and not good for their frustrated parents, or anyone who planned to sit quietly and read. That had been Quentinâs plan, of course, but it was always Quentinâs plan. If the world had ended, well⌠he had no further need to pretend to grow up.
Not that it was his only hobby, of course.
âToss me that deck of cards,â he said to a little girl of about ten.
âItâs no use,â she said, with a combination of high drama, scorn and genuine disappointment that can only really be achieved by a kid of that age. âThereâs cards missing. I think itâs Masonâs fault because I hate him,â she added, menacingly, and with all the conviction that this was a well-reasoned answer.
âDoesnât matter,â Quentin said, expertly shuffling the cards. He fanned them out precisely. âPick one,â he said. âYou can show it to someone else, but you have to remember it for yourself before you put it back.â
He made a show of pulling his sleeves up, very serious, as other kids started to sneak in closer, pretending not to be interested.
âIs this your card?â Quentin asked, a few moments later, after some unnecessary and very flashy fanfare.
âNo!â the little girl said, satisfied that Quentin was an idiot.
âWell, of course itâs not, if you cheat. Itâs in your pocket. Go on.â
She reached into the pocket of her hoodie, and her eyes got very, very wide suddenly, as she pulled the correct card out.
âDo it again!â she demanded.
âYouâd have to pay me a coin,â Quentin said, crossing his arms. âHave you got one?â
âNo oneâs got a coin. Money doesnât work anymore.â
âIt doesnât?â Quentin said, surprised. âThen why is your friend hiding a coin in his ear?â
He reached out to grab a coin from behind the kidâs ear, showed it with a flourish, and grinned as the kids went wild.
