Left With the Dead by Stephen Knight Read Free Book Online

would remind her of his foresight should it ever come to pass they needed the water in the toilet bowl. Just the same, when he was finished he opened the sink faucet. A small stream of water trickled out before the pipe started burping air, and he turned it off quickly. At least enough water had run down the drain to reduce the smell of his urine.
    And it’s the small pleasures I take comfort in , he thought.
    He then inventoried his gear.
    ###
    The rest of the apartment was dark and gloomy with the shades drawn. Gartrell stepped quietly into the kitchen and took a quick inventory of the items out in plain view. Ignoring the usual fixtures—microwave, toaster, coffee maker ( God, some Joe would taste fucking awesome right now , he thought), other kitchen appliances—he saw there were bags of chips, half a case of bottled water, four two-liter bottles of Pepsi, a box of cookies, half a loaf of Martin’s potato bread. He smelled something rank and sour coming from the stainless steel waste can standing near the doorway to the dining room. It was the stench of feces, still odious beneath a liberal dose of Lysol. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and slowly walked into the dining room.
    Jolie was on her knees before a small boy with hair the color of russet that made Gartrell think of copper. Jolie looked over at Gartrell as he stood in the doorway. Her red hair hung in her face as she pulled up the boy’s jeans and buttoned them. She still wore the clothes from the night before. Her face was pale, drawn, and her gaze was uneasy. The boy turned to him as well. He was absolutely beautiful, that kind of beauty that only small children seemed to have, completely unsullied, almost angelic. His skin was fair, like his mother’s, and totally unblemished. His blue eyes widened when he saw Gartrell, and he took a step toward his mother and put a hand on her cheek. He made a small mewling sound in the back of this throat, and Gartrell watched his beautiful expression become marred by the onslaught of sudden fear.
    Gartrell slowly leaned forward and smiled as gently as he could, ignoring his protesting knees and back. He knew he looked like hell, and he didn’t blame the kid for being scared. Hell, he was only a few steps away from having Hershey squirts in his drawers himself.
    “Hey there,” Gartrell said, his voice low and friendly, a tone he didn’t have much occasion to use outside of his family. “How’re you doing, little guy?” He didn’t move any closer, and kept the silly smile on his face. He had only one chance to make a passing impression, and he didn’t want to blow it. There was no telling how long the three of them would be cooped up together, and if most of that time could be spent without the boy screaming and yelling in terror because a strange man was in the apartment, Gartrell was ready to move heaven and earth to make it happen.
    “His name’s Jaden,” Jolie said.
    “Hiya, Jaden. I’m Dave, and I’m very happy to meet you.” Gartrell kept a bouncy, bubbly tone in his voice.
    Jaden moaned again and pushed himself into his mother’s arms, his face pressed against her shoulder. She smiled and hugged him against her, whispering into his ear. The boy did not cry, but he held onto her for dear life. His small body shook.
    “Do you want me to go back into the bedroom?” Gartrell asked.
    Jolie shook her head and continued whispering to Jaden, rubbing his back as she planted small kisses on his head. Gartrell straightened up and watched them in the gloomy living room. From the corner of his eye, he saw the goods piled up on the dining room table. He stepped toward it silently and took a quick inventory. More water. Batteries, of all sizes. Cleaning supplies, and Gartrell wondered idly if things such as oven cleaner could somehow be used as a weapon. Bottled juices. Boxes of bandages, over-the-counter medications, and someone’s Oxycontin prescription. A box of shotgun shells, which brightened