Page 79 of The Hitchhikers

“The animals are fine,” she said to him.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, sweetheart.”

“That boy didn’t say more than two words. And the girl? She was just sitting there reading one of my books.” Ruth paused. “There’s something very wrong with those two.”

CHAPTER 28ALICE

Alice woke up, disoriented. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, adjusting to the dim lighting from the one bulb. She reached over and felt Tom’s sleeping body beside her.

A sound. That was what had woken her. She strained her ears, held her breath. Was it in the basement? A rat, maybe. Or was it coming from upstairs? She shifted to a sitting position.

Now the scrape of the hatch door opening. Footsteps on the stairs.

Tom moved beside her. She glanced at him. He was awake and watching.

Feet, then legs edged into view. Simon was hunched over as he peered down at them huddled together on the opposite wall. The handgun was out in front of him, his head swiveling between the two couples like he was making sure they were all accounted for.

“Alice, get up here.”

She didn’t like the sound of the beer in his voice, the thickening of the words.

“Why?”

“I’m hungry.”

She looked at Tom, who had a worried frown. He rested a hand on her knee. “You can refuse,” he whispered. “He’ll have to come down if he wants you.”

“Then what? More fighting?”

“There’s more of us now.”

But two of them were elderly and one still had a broken collarbone.

“Stop talking,” Simon said. “It’s pissing me off.”

“Give me a moment. My legs are cramped.” Alice touched her lips to Tom’s, so it looked like she was kissing him goodbye, and murmured against his mouth. “I’ll find out his plans.”

Simon moved to the top of the stairs. When she stepped into the kitchen, he dropped the hatch behind her with a slam. He pushed the table and chairs back in place.

The clock on the wall told Alice it was two in the morning, and clearly Simon hadn’t been to bed yet. On the kitchen table, smoke floated up from a cigarette propped on the side of a saucer, crowded with butts. Simon kicked one of the chairs out and pushed her into it. Then he took a glass out of the cupboard, picked up a bottle of whiskey, and brought them both to the table, where his nearly empty glass waited in front of the other chair. A light breeze drifted across her neck. She looked over her shoulder. The back door was open.

“Don’t even think about it. I’ve still got my gun.”

Alice sighed. “I am aware of the situation.”

“I’m aware of the situation,” he repeated in a high voice, mocking her, then he collapsed onto his chair. He poured whiskey into the two glasses and picked up a pack of cigarettes. He smacked the bottom of the pack until a cigarette popped out. He offered it to Alice.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Tonight, you do.”

“No. I don’t.”

“It won’t kill you.” He placed the gun on the table and spun it hard. Alice held her breath as it went round and round. Finally, it stopped. The nose of the gun pointed toward the sink.

She let out her breath and lifted her gaze to Simon, taking note of the shadows under his eyes, and the sweat stains circling the neck and armpits of his yellow T-shirt. His fingernails were black with grease and his hair looked sticky, like he’d been running his hands through it.

“I thought you wanted me to cook.”