Until I Die(18+)

5.

     "I'M COMING WITH YOU," I tell him, slowing to a walk when I reach his side.

     Eric exhales, irritated, stopping in his tracks. "It's not safe," he states.

     "It's a twenty minute walk," I argue. "I could use the exercise. Not to mention, we'll be able to carry more between us than if you go alone."

     "I don't like it."

     "It'd be good to have someone watch your back." I'm not budging even though I doubt he's taking me serious. 

     He's probably thinking, you? I'm supposed to trust you're up to the job after your episode? I can imagine him mentally scoffing at me.

     Staring me down, he looks for a slip in my resolve but finds none –I'm proud of myself for that. Eventually, I get a nod. 

     "Stay close. Don't wander off. No loud noises." He steps closer to me, his gaze drilling in the severity of his words. "We try to avoid contact but if we have to, we engage. I'll take them out and if there's too many, we run. If I get trapped, you run. Don't be a hero. . .you get me?"

     If he got cornered I'd do whatever I could to help him. I wouldn't leave unless they'd already killed him – I feel sick at the thought – but I don't tell him that, worried he'd stop me from going with him. "Gotcha."

     –

     Conversation flows naturally between us. I find that he's actually rather funny behind that dark exterior. He doesn't really laugh, or smile, but if I listen close enough there's a small lift to an exhale when he finds something amusing. His lips also twitch. . .and I realise that I pay way too much attention to his mannerisms.

     "So you're not from around here, right? You're American?" I have to ask.

     "Canadian, yes. I'm here for. . .work." He hesitates momentarily.

     "Ah, bad timing on your part," I joke, twisting the handle his knife between my fingers. He made me take it out of it's holster, ready to use in case I needed it. "What work is it you do?"

     "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." The breezy light tone cancels out the threat out of his words. I'm sure he was just having me on but my gut tells me not to push. 

      So I don't.

      "Must be nice travelling for work. I went to Spain once. The weather almost killed me."

     "It's okay." A squirrel runs across the road, disappearing into the hedge on the other side. "What do you do for work?"

     My lips twist. "Don't tell my Mum. . .I used to work in a shop. Hated it. People. . .they're ass-holes. So, I quit. God, she'd kill me if she found out. I tried concentrating on my art – I love drawing so much – but It wasn't going anywhere. Guess it's kind of lucky all this. . .apocalypse stuff happened. My rent was due in a week. No way could I have afforded it."

     "I'm sure your parents would have let you off."

     I frown, confused for a moment, but then it occurs to me what he meant. "Oh, no, I don't live with my parents. I haven't for around six years now. Thank god," I laugh dryly.

     "Six years?" he says, surprised. Dark eyes turn to me, searching. "How old are you?"

     "I'm twenty-five. Why?" My eyebrows furrow.

     Eric's lips part, taken back. He quickly looks away. "You look younger. Eighteen, maybe."

     "Oh." I suppose I should have expected that. A few people have made the same mistake, although it hadn't happened for a while now – maybe even a few years. It was nice to know I was still gifted with youthful skin. "Sweet," I hum.