Angel, Page 51

Page 51

 

  “Were you two the only kids here?” asked Willow. She had turned on the bed to face him, drawing one knee up to her chest.

  “Yeah. And every so often, someone would realize, Hey, these boys aren’t in school. We better educate them! And the catalog would come out for a few days. We liked target practice a lot better. ”

  Willow started to say something but abruptly fell silent. They both heard it: a vehicle approaching.

  Immediately, Alex’s expression turned taut, alert. He drew the gun out from the waistband of his jeans. “Get behind the door,” he ordered in a low voice.

  Willow did so without argument, hurrying across the room. Keeping close to the wall, Alex edged toward the open doorway, flanking it on the other side. He listened intently as the vehicle came to a stop. There was the slam of a car door. Only one. Good, he thought, pressing against the warm wall. If one of their friends from the panhandle had somehow caught up with them, then they were in for a surprise.

  Slow, uneven footsteps were approaching; they seemed to hang in the air. At the sound of them, Alex frowned in surprise. If he didn’t know any better —

  “All right, who the hell’s here?” bellowed a familiar voice. “I don’t like unexpected visitors, so you better come on out and show yourself. ’Cause I’ve got a gun, and I am not happy. ”

  Alex’s shoulders relaxed as joy and relief leaped through him. “It’s Cully,” he said to Willow. “Cull!” he called through the doorway, putting his gun away. “Cull, it’s me, Alex!”

  Cully was peering into what used to be the rec room, a rifle held at the ready. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of jeans that hid his prosthetic leg. At Alex’s voice, he spun awkwardly, surprise overcoming his broad features. At first he simply stared, looking startled . . . and then he started to smile. “Alex? Goddamn, it is you!”

  Leaving the bunkhouse, Alex strode toward him, smiling broadly. He and Cully embraced, pounding each other on the backs. Even after the accident that had cost him his leg, the big southerner was as muscular as ever. Cully squinted his blue eyes as the two pulled apart, pretending to appraise Alex. He shook his head. “You’ve gotten even uglier. How is it possible?”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to be like you,” said Alex with a grin. “Cully, what are you doing here? We thought —” Suddenly he remembered Willow. Turning back to the bunkhouse, he saw her standing in the doorway, watching them with an uncertain expression on her face.

  Cully turned, too. His eyebrows flew up. “Well, looky here,” he drawled. “Who’s this pretty little thing?”

  Willow came forward with her arms crossed over her chest, blinking in the sunshine. “Hi,” she said, lifting a hand. “I’m Willow Fields. It’s nice to meet you. ”

  “Willow Fields . . . now, isn’t that a pretty name,” said Cully. He glanced appreciatively at Willow’s figure. “You sure have got yourself a looker here, haven’t you, boy? Now, ma’am, what are you doing with this reprobate? He’ll lead you down the road to ruin, I promise you. ”

  Alex felt heat creep across his face. “We’re not —”

  “We’re friends,” said Willow. Her smile looked slightly forced. Remembering her concerns about the AKs hating her, Alex wasn’t surprised.

  “Friends,” repeated Cully, nodding his head as if tasting the word. “Gotcha. Well, in that case, why don’t we three friends go and sit down for a while, have something cool to drink?”

  “Great,” said Alex. “You got one of the generators going, then?”

  “Yeah, I’m staying in your dad’s old place,” said Cully as they started down the road. He walked stiffly, swinging his prosthetic leg with every step. “Can’t really be seen from outside the enclosure, even when I’ve got my truck inside. ”

  “How come you’re out here on your own, instead of training new AKs somewhere?” asked Alex. “We thought the place was abandoned. ”

  Cully’s rifle hung from his hand, moving in time with his steps. “It’s seen better days, and that’s a fact,” he said. Walking beside Alex, Willow remained silent, her arms still crossed over her chest. As Cully spoke, she turned her gaze to him, studying him.

  “As to what I’m doing out here, me and the CIA don’t get along,” Cully went on. “So I’m just holding down the old fort. Somebody’s got to. ” They reached the house that Alex’s father had lived in — one of the smallest buildings in the enclosure but the only one offering any real privacy. Cully opened the door and switched on the light. Alex stepped inside the main room. It was like stepping back in time; the place was exactly the same as it had been the last time he’d seen it — the scuffed table and chairs; the beat-up sofa that doubled as a bed. His father’s maps on the wall were still the only decoration, with red pins showing suspected angel locations from over two years ago. The generator hummed faintly in the background.

  “Home, sweet home,” said Cully, propping the rifle against the cement block wall. “So what are y’all doing here, anyway? I had just gone on my monthly supply run; I swear I couldn’t believe it when I got back and saw that so-called car sitting there. Good God, how’d you even get that thing out here without blowing it up?”

  Alex laughed. “It wasn’t easy. I thought we were going to be buzzard food a few times. ” He dropped onto one of the scuffed wooden chairs. Willow sat hesitantly next to him, watching Cully.

  “And as for what we’re doing here . . . ” Alex shook his head, not really sure where to begin. “It’s a long story. ”

  “Well, in that case we need a drink to help it along,” said Cully. “Lemme see what I’ve got to wet our whistles. ” He lurched his way into the small kitchen, humming to himself.

  The second he was out of sight, Willow leaned toward Alex. “Something’s not right,” she whispered urgently, her breath tickling at his ear. “I know that he’s your friend, but —”

  “What is it?” Alex whispered back in surprise.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know! He’s planning something, but I can’t —”

  She sat back quickly as Cully reappeared, holding a bottle and two glasses. There was a clinking noise as he set the glasses on the table. “You’re in luck, my friend, I still got some Mr. Beam. And how about you, ma’am? You up for a drink?”

  Willow gave a small smile. “Just water for me, thanks. Or a Coke, if you’ve got one. ”

  “You sure?” He waggled the bottle enticingly. “Old friends and new friends, all together — deserves a little celebration, don’t you think?”

  “No, that’s OK. ”

  Cully heaved a pretend sigh. “All righty, let me get you a Coke, then. But we’ll have you cuttin’ it with that bourbon before the day’s over, won’t we, boy?” He winked at Alex and headed into the kitchen again.

  “What do you mean, he’s planning something?” muttered Alex. In the kitchen, there was the sound of the small fridge opening.

  Willow’s face looked strained. “I’m not sure. He’s glad we’re here, but . . . it’s not because he’s happy to see us. There’s something going on that he doesn’t want us to know. ”