“I don’t think we’re all dead,” Noah said. “I mean, unless this is hell? Are we in the same hell together?”
Chris slapped his thighs before standing. “All right, Boss. Enough panicking. It’s time to get serious.”
Shepherd, who felt like there was still plenty of time for panicking, kicked the closest fridge. The fridge didn’t move, and yet, according to Shepherd’s toes, it definitely kicked back. “What are you talking about?”
He grinned. “I’ve been collecting for moments such as this.”
Shepherd, terrified but curious, hopped on one foot and asked, “Collecting what?”
Chris just grinned harder.
“Collecting what, Chris? Oh God, collectingwhat?”
Chris’s “collection” was stored in a small single-room shed, next to a leaning stack of see-through storage tubs that contained Christmas decorations. He left the door open—the only source of air in the tiny space—and rubbed his hands together. “Brace yourselves for a thing of beauty, boys.”
Shepherd was busy bracing himself for the inevitable collapse of nativity scenes.
Chris cracked open a black storage tub the way most mencrack open a beer at five o’clock. Noah, Max, and Shepherd all leaned in as one.
There were … well, it was acollection, that was certain. Face masks. Canisters. Several bright red bottles that saidBEAR MACEon the side in a font that looked like it had been scratched by a literal bear claw.
“Uh,” said Noah, “what the hell?”
FORTY-EIGHT
“Christopher!” a woman’s voice shouted from somewhere outside the shed. “Shut the damn door! My Christmas decorations are gonna get all moldy!”
Chris rolled his eyes. Max raised both eyebrows. “Sorry, Mom! Almost done!”
“I got it,” Shepherd said, moving to the door to close it himself. He took a peek around the corner. An above-ground pool sat in the middle of the backyard, surrounded by leaf-covered astroturf. An older woman in a floral one-piece and floppy hat floated on top of an inflatable flamingo, a cigarette in her hand.
She gave him the finger.
He closed the door.
“I just … I don’t get it,” Noah said. He’d grabbed a face mask while Shepherd’s back was turned. “Why? Like, why do you have all this stuff, dude?”
Chris shrugged. “Just want to be prepared.”
“Prepared for what, exactly?” asked Max.
“The apocalypse. The end of days. You know.”
Noah scratched his temple with the face mask. “Like, the biblical end of days?”
Chris nodded.
“Why are you tear-gassing Jesus?”
“No, dude! I’m helping Jesus!”
Noah fitted the face mask to himself. “I don’t think Jesus will need bear mace,” he said, from underneath the gear.
“Guys, pay attention,” Shepherd said, hands on his hips. “This is something. But it isn’t enough.”
Max grabbed another mask. “What do you mean? Can’t we just bear-mace our way in and grab Ginny?”
“They have guns,” Shepherd said. “Lots of guns. Tear gas and bear mace works as a distraction, but guns win. Every time.”
