Don't Whistle Past the Graveyard

Ch. Twenty-Six

We were low on water. Bad low.

You know how it is. Sometimes, you just can't find what it is you need the most. 

It was shaping up to be a kind of dry winter, which was weird considering we were in the northeast. We should have had at least a snowstorm or something by then but, you know, Murphy's Law and all that.

But there was just nothing. Do you know what it feels like when you are always thirsty? It's worse than being hungry. It burns. Every now and then, I'd get a horrible nose bleed because I was so dried out which helped absolutely nothing. We were just thirsty.

It was painful.

So Shane and I were scrounging for water in this teeny-tiny little town with these huge houses. You know the sort of town. Really rich people probably used to live there. 

Kyle had decided to try something else though. Maps had shown that there should be a small creek around the town to the east.

So he'd wanted to divide and conquer, arguing that the town was going to be more dangerous than the surrounding forests, so more people should go into the town. Which was why I was with Shane, and Kyle was by himself looking for what might end up being a dry creek bed.

Of course, we could have been wasting our time with a dry town.

As much as I hate to admit it, Kyle does work really well by himself. So we'd split up. Again.

Like I said, we were getting desperate.

Shane and I were going through probably about the third house when it happened. I was in the kitchen, going through cabinets when Shane came flying back into the house from where he had been searching the garage. 

"We gotta hide," Shane hissed, grabbing my hand.

"What? Why?" I asked, though I didn't balk.

Shane pulled us into the living room, looking around, his movements quick and precise. "People coming up the drive. Don't look like friendlies."

"Upstairs?" I asked eyes flicking to the stairs.

Shane shook his head, eyes still searching, discarding what he thought of as obvious places they would search, like coat closets or other rooms. "No. Don't want to get trapped. What if they burn it down?"

"What? Why would they do that?" I asked, trying to come up with a better idea than going upstairs.

"Fuck if I know. People do crazy shit." Shane's face paled when we heard the door through the kitchen being kicked in. "Son of a bitch," Shane breathed before pulling me down behind a big puffy armchair, wedging us tightly in a corner, pulling the chair further in front of us.

We didn't have time to do anything more. I was between his legs, with one of his arms wrapped tightly around my middle, holding me hard against him as he tried to make us smaller. "Shh," he breathed into my ear.

I sat with my eyes wide, watching through a gap between the chair and the wall. I felt way too exposed, but the men who came in weren't interested in looking around.

I could feel Shane's heart beating fast and hard against my back. If it was possible, I grew even more still when one of the men spoke. "Well Mike. You know why we're here."

"Screw you!" I jumped at the sharp voice from who I assumed was Mike. I could see flashes as they moved, circling one man like a pack of hyenas.

One of the other men hit the one in the center, and Shane's hand clamped over my mouth, catching and muffling a small gasp. My breath was a little choppy.