The Shelter

CHAPTER TEN: Elementary, my dear Watson

CHAPTER TEN: Elementary, my dear Watson

As the days past, I watched both families avoid me like the plague. The only one who would still talk was Mack and that was just briefly—or before his father could catch him. “What will you do next?” he asked.

“Now that my arm is healing, I’ll be moving on to Colorado.”

“It won’t be long before they throw you out, you know. My dad has gotten everybody pretty riled up.”

“I’ve over-stayed my welcome anyway, Mack—time to move on.”

“Take me with you.”

“You know I can’t. Your dad would see you dead before he let you go with me.”

“Is what you said before…about my dad changing—is it true?”

“I tried to warn Ben…your dad is dangerous. It’s elementary, really, I’ve seen it before: the loss of appetite, the paranoia. If he can’t kill you himself, he’ll open the doors and let the Crazies in to help him.”

“Isn’t there something we can do…you know, to make him better.”

“Mack, the world as we know it has been utterly destroyed by war, billions of people have died—you’re just gonna have to get used to the fact that your dad is another casualty. I’m sorry…but I’ve never seen anybody get better after they’ve turned—they only get worse.”

“More food has turned up missing—at least they can’t blame you for that.”

“Your dad will, and you know it. Listen, Mack…I need my weapons; if I don’t stop him he’ll kill you all. He won’t remember you as his loving family—his son. His only desire will be to feed.”

“You want me to get your weapons so you can kill my dad for my own good?”

“Look…if there was any other way…”

“It’s a hard pill to swallow, Ray.”

“He already believes you’ve betrayed him—he’ll try to get all the weapons.”

“He already has. Everything’s in the food storage area—he keeps guard there day and night. He says it’s for our own protection, because you could easily take our weapons from us and steal the rest of the food.”

I blew out a huge sigh, “We’re running out of time. He’ll try to kill me first.”

“Tonight…” Mack whispered, as if pronouncing his father’s death sentence, “tonight I’ll try to get your sword.”