“You okay?” McCann asked.
Novak nodded. “Just cold. Arm still hurts like a bitch, but I’ll be okay. What’s up?”
“We found someone. A man.”
“You shoot him?”
“No.” McCann shook his head. “His name is Simon. He says he was a prisoner here. I believe him. He was tied down when we found him, and he’s pretty banged up. Looks like he’s been tortured.”
“Where is he now?”
“Upstairs with Gail.”
Novak frowned. “You left her alone with this guy?”
“She’s got the shotgun. And trust me, dude, this guy isn’t going to be able to do much. Seriously. He’s all messed up. He’s weak and looks like he’s probably running a fever. That fucker who attacked us did a number on him. I just came down to tell you, and to find him something to wear.”
“He’s naked?”
“Yeah. Why? Is that important?”
Novak shrugged. “It’s better for Gail. Naked people often feel more vulnerable. He might be less likely to attack her if he’s feeling that way.”
“Oh.” McCann’s ears turned pinkish-red. “I thought you were going to make a joke about leaving her alone with a naked man.”
“Well, there’s that, too.” Grunting, Novak stumbled to his feet. “Introduce me to this Simon.”
McCann turned to leave but then realized that Novak wasn’t following him. Instead, he was staring out the broken window they’d entered the building through.
“What’s wrong? Did you see something?”
Novak hesitated. “No… while you guys were gone, I kept hearing splashing sounds out there. Couldn’t tell if it was the waves or something else. It’s hard to see through the downpour and all that mist.”
“Maybe one of us should stay here and stand guard.”
“You think this Simon can walk down here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, if Gail and I help him.”
“Let’s try that. I don’t like leaving this hole unguarded. We’re in enough trouble as it is. See if he can make it down here. If he can’t, come and get me.”
“Sounds like a plan.” McCann started to leave again, but then turned back and studied Novak carefully.
“You sure you’re okay, boss man?”
“Yeah.” Novak sighed as he sat back down again. “I’m just tired. I could sleep for a week. Too bad there’s not a dry bed left anywhere in the world.”
McCann studied Novak closely, noticing for the first time the dark circles beneath the older man’s eyes, like smudges of soot. His skin seemed pasty and colorless, his lips thin and pale. His fingertips were wrinkled from overexposure to moisture and his posture was stooped and sullen. It was a marked contrast from the man he’d been before the rain—or even the man he’d been just a few weeks ago. That version of Novak had seemed to still have hope. This version seemed to cling to survival out of some grim sense of duty than anything else. McCann considered everything they’d been through in the last twenty-four hours, and decided he couldn’t really blame Novak. He probably looked and felt the same way himself. He’d just been too busy to realize it yet.
“Get going,” Novak said. “Naked and injured or not, I don’t like the idea of Gail being alone with this guy for too long.”
Without another word, McCann headed back down the hallway. The carpet squished beneath his feet and the stairwell echoed with his footsteps. On the second floor, he passed by an office that he and Gail had missed on their first search. It was located at the rear of a reception area. He realized upon passing it that they’d checked the chairs in the waiting area and behind the switchboard but had forgotten to check the office itself. Perhaps he’d find something for Simon to wear inside the room. He listened at the closed door, but heard no sound from within. Reaching down, he turned the knob and found it unlocked.
He took one step into the dark room, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Something moved in the shadows. Gasping, McCann stumbled backward as the sound rustled toward him.
CHAPTER 51
McCann scrambled out into the reception area and glanced around for something—anything—to use as a weapon, but the space was empty, save for fragments of fallen plaster and puddles of water. At some point, the desk had surely held a computer and some type of phone switchboard, but both were now missing, as was the receptionist’s chair. The skittering sound drew nearer. The shadowy form rose up and squeaked.
“What the hell?”
In the doorway, a large, brown rat stood on its hind legs and studied him cautiously. Its nose twitched at the sound of McCann’s voice, but the rodent didn’t run away. Instead, it dropped back down to all fours and crept closer.
“You’re a brave little son of a bitch.”
As if in agreement, the bold rodent darted forward and stopped at McCann’s feet. It stood up on its hind legs again and squeaked once more. It showed no fear—only curiosity.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were tame. Is that it? Were you a pet rat? Did you belong to the guy who shot at me?”
Moving slowly, McCann knelt in the doorway. His knee joints popped and his stomach growled. Both sounded loud in the silence, but still the rat remained. He studied it closely, looking for any sign of the white fuzz, but the creature seemed free of infection. Holding his breath, McCann reached out with one finger and cautiously touched the rodent’s back. When it didn’t bite him or flee, he stroked its soft, damp fur. The rat arched its back, obviously enjoying the attention. McCann smiled.
“Look at you. You’re a friendly little guy. What’s your name, I wonder? Did he give you a name?”
He spoke in soft, cooing tones, and the rat gazed up at him with rapt attention. McCann petted it a few more times and then stood up. The rat remained at his feet.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to come up with a name for you. How about ‘Dinner’? You like that? Come here, Dinner.”
McCann’s grin vanished. He raised one booted foot and brought it down on the rat’s head. Its skull crunched beneath his heel. The rodent’s legs and tail twitched, and then it lay still. The thought occurred to McCann that this could have been the last rat left alive in the world, and that he’d just made their entire species extinct. Then his stomach growled again, and he dismissed the thought with a shrug.
Now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, McCann stepped into the small office and looked around. It was a windowless room, and had probably served as some sort of storage area at one time. Judging from the clutter, the man who’d attacked them earlier had been using it as a place to sleep. McCann nodded with begrudging approval. Unlike the other offices, the room was hidden from the ocean, and easy to defend if attacked. It was tucked away and not easily noticeable. Indeed, he and Gail had missed it during their initial search. It might be just as easily missed by anyone—or anything—that entered the building hunting for prey.
The floor was strewn with makeshift bedding composed mostly of dirty, damp linens, tablecloths, sofa cushions and scraps of torn clothing. The walls were lined with metal shelving, and stacked on these was a wide assortment of various odds and ends—everything from cases of bottled water to knives and other weapons. Spying a sports coat that was relatively unsoiled, McCann made a mental note to thoroughly search the room and inventory its contents later. He selected a handgun from the assortment of weapons, but couldn’t find ammunition for it. He lay the pistol back down and took a butcher knife instead. Just holding it in his hand made McCann feel more secure. Then he picked up a pillowcase from the floor, placed the rat’s still-bleeding corpse inside, and tied the pillowcase shut, forming a makeshift sack. He slung this over his shoulder, grabbed the sports coat, and then headed back upstairs to find Gail and Simon.