Passenger by Andrew Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

where to look where none of the Odds have looked. And mostly the Rangers are dumb. They just wait for it to come to them. I guess that works, as long as you have guns.”
    Quinn poured some water into a pot. He placed it on the stove and then flipped a switch on the generator. It made a buzzing noise. Like insects.
    “First thing: There is no generator at night,” he said. “We can’t make any noise. They’ll hear us. This place has to look dead. Dark. You got that, Odd?”
    “Okay.”
    “Second thing: blackout curtains.”
    There were no windows. Like so many of the buildings that had been left even partially standing, the windows in the firehouse had been boarded over with anything that could cover them. But Quinn had gone a step further. He’d brought in sets of those drapes they have in hotel rooms—the ones with heavy plastic backing—to cover any stray light that might seep out through an unnoticed crack.
    “Last thing.” Quinn opened a footlocker that was sitting beside the bolted doorway onto the staircase.
    “Juicy death,” he said. He slapped my bare back. It stung, and I wanted so bad to punch the kid. “Ha-ha-ha! These babies took the longest time to gather up and then get them to work right. Take a look, Odd. Here’s how I turn them on, in case you ever have to do it.”
    Inside the trunk was a small brass-colored telegraph switch and eight automotive batteries—the big kind, like you’d see in a truck or an ambulance. They were all wired together, and then the wires fed into some kind of transformer box and more wires leading out from the bottom of the chest. It was an electric fence, Quinn said, that protected all the possible ways into the firehouse. He wasn’t sure if it would kill someone; he was still waiting to find out, but he was certain his invention would buy enough time to get out of there if he ever really needed to.
    “Why are you doing all this?” I said.
    “Because I want to live,” Quinn said. “It’s winning, Odd. We all want to win, don’t we?”
    “I mean, why did you bother with me? You didn’t have to save my life. You didn’t have to bring me here.”
    For a second, Quinn looked flustered, like he couldn’t answer, or he was embarrassed.
    “I trust you, Billy. Don’t you trust me?”
    I hated being cornered like that. I’ve had that question aimed at me enough times in my life, and every time it had been someone trying to fuck with me.
    Fuck you, Quinn.
    So I said, “I really need to take a piss.”
    “Ha-ha!” Quinn laughed. “That’s good for us, Billy. Good for the planet! Ha-ha-ha!”
    And he slapped my shoulder again when I walked past him, saying, “I’ll tell you what. You can take a shower if you want, so you can wash that Hunter shit off you and clean yourself up. You smell like death, Odd. Ha-ha! And I’ll go find you some clothes and cook us some grub. Let’s eat, Odd. I think we should have a special dinner in honor of us finding each other.”
    Finding me.
    I couldn’t help but wonder if he really had been following me, like he said.
    *   *   *
    But the clean water felt so good, and as I stood under the cooling flow, examining the small round marks those black things had left on my legs, I couldn’t help but smell the food Quinn was cooking.
    “We have to hurry up, Odd,” Quinn called out from his post at the stove across the room. “The sun’s going down soon.”
    I shut off the valve to the nozzle and stood there, dripping, leaning against the brick divider wall.
    The kid even had towels. Quinn brought one out for me and slung it over the wall.
    “Thanks.”
    “That’s the first time you said that all day, Billy.”
    He was right, but it still pissed me off that he had to point it out to me.
    “Is that all you’re looking for? Okay, then. Thanks, Quinn. Thank you very much.”
    The kid shrugged.
    I felt bad for what I said.
    “Sorry.” I looked down, pretended to dry my feet. “I’m an asshole. Sorry, kid.”
    I