Wake of the Dead | Three

Chapter Sixty-Three | Jasper

The patrol was definitely wary of Jasper's decision, but he stood by it and met their careful glances with his own confident neutrality. Aleu and Hawk sat beside him, the group had decided a small corner of the shopping center was a good place to camp, away from the chaos that had nearly been the two boy's demises. They're just kids. What was I supposed to do, leave them on their own?

To be fair, Rixon had pointed out that Aleu—who was maybe ten years old—had killed a fully grown man. The corpse had nearly been decapitated, there was no doubt in Jasper's mind that if the child had a longer blade, he wouldn't hesitate to behead any one of his patrol. If he was even the smallest bit dangerous than he already was, he would have more strongly considered leaving them both there with some supplies and dinner.

But there was another thing to think about. If Stephan was nearby, as close as Hawk and Aleu said, they could have ran off to him and blurted out their whereabouts. The tyrant would have been on them in an instant no doubt. But how much does Stephan actually care about them, if they were able to sneak off like this and why was that stranger trying to kill them? His thoughts disappeared the moment Hawk's breathing devolved into soft wheezes. The small boy had been patched up—with Aleu watching his every move—but there was still something wrong.

"He can't eat that." Aleu had said when Hawk was offered some dried beef jerky by Raven, maybe as an attempt to make momentary peace. "His stomach doesn't like it." He's going to have to get used to indigestion like the rest of us, he can't be picky about what he eats. Jasper had wanted to said, until Hawk coughed up a sickly, yellowish bile. He's got something wrong with him, but he doesn't smell very sickly, he doesn't look pale or sweaty either. Has he just eaten something bad? No, Aleu talks like this is normal for the kid. So what's wrong with him?

Hawk hadn't spoken loud enough to stay anything to the adults in the patrol, but he would whisper to Aleu as the two isolated themselves away from the group. The blonde boy was fussing over his friend, swiping some rubbing alcohol away from the patrol's medical bag and wiping away the blood from his arm, lifting up his shirt and then tending to the wound on his side. It wasn't a large or anywhere near deadly one, but Jasper wished he had some sort of pain medicine to spare for the poor child.

Whatever Hawk was going through, it looked like a chronic thing. Jasper's suspicions were confirmed once he heard Aleu murmur, "Leader will find us soon and he'll bring your medicine, don't worry." Even if they're Reapers, at least the children still have good friends. But what was even more strange to him was the fact that Stephan would carry any sort of medical supplies related to a chronic condition for anybody, even if it was for his own son. He seems like the kind of guy who'd kill a kid just for sneezing one too many times.

Hawk coughed up more bile, the sound raked down his throat and vibrated in his small chest. His stomach heaved momentarily, then he leaned up against his friend, panting and exhausted. "How long have you been away from him?" Jasper asked. He didn't have to clarify who he was talking about, everybody already knew.

The two boys exchanged quick glances, Hawk shot a withering glare towards all of them and Aleu remained completely silent. Oh, so they aren't talking to us now? Great. How are we supposed to help them? "It isn't any of your business." Jasper blinked from surprise. In the Silence camp when he'd met Luke's apprentice, Ash, he'd been shocked to hear how gravelly the child's voice was, but it was nothing compared to Hawk's. It was as if somebody had put his vocal chords through a paper shredder. "Father will be here soon and if any of you hurt me," he paused to take a deep breath and continued, "he'll kill you all."

"Only if I don't get to them first." Aleu growled. If Jasper didn't know any better he'd have laughed. Pre-teens weren't the scariest of foes he'd ever faced, but knowing how easily the blonde boy managed to slit a grown man's throat, he didn't want to underestimate him. Those blades...nasty looking things. He hadn't ever gotten a good look at Aleu's weapons before, but now that he could, it was horrific. They must have been custom made. The handles were small enough for Aleu to grip firmly and the blades were curved like a scythe, the edges serrated and razor-sharp, a slight curl to them like barbs, but long enough to get caught—just long enough to do some serious damaged when they were ripped out of some poor sod's flesh.