To The Grave

Chapter 41. Winona. Day 173.

I sat in the slow moving truck, listening to an old CD. "My brother likes this song." I moved my feet.

Kennon smiled. "My brother did too."

"You said you had a family, but you never told me about them." I moved my arm out the window, feeling the warm air.

"You never told me about yours." He looked away from the road.

"Molly, twenty-one, kidnapped, probably dead. Slater, nineteen, eaten. My dad, forty something, shot in the chest." I moved the seat back, turning so I could face him.

He sighed. "My brother, Logan, thirteen, hung himself from the ceiling fan before I was born, I think he'd be twenty-eight. My brother, Eryc, eighteen, overdosed on heroin, three years ago. My sister Hanna, twenty-four, she got bit, pretty early on. My mom, forty-four, just never came home. That's when my cousin, Miranda, nineteen, found me and my nephew, Nick, four, the uh- drug addicts kid, and we got out of Colorado."

"I'm sorry." I whispered. I looked behind us, seeing a body run up to the truck. Kennon stopped it, looking at me with his sad eyes. He shrugged, rolling down the window.

"What are you doing?" Randall looked at me, his mouth twisting into a frown.

I moved my shoulders, "The other car was cramped."

He nodded, turning to look to Kennon. "When are you planning on stopping. We've been walking for like 6 hours." He blew smoke up, trying to keep it from blowing back into the car.

Kennon shrugged, reaching into his hoodie pocket for his notebook. His hand moved quickly scribbling out a message.

Randall let out a loud sigh, pausing before he said, "That shits getting old, kid. Just speak, it's not that hard."

Kennon looked over to me, sighing as he pushed the car door open. I followed him out, spotting my eldest brothers in the crowd. I moved closer to him, hearing Jackson's voice. "This should do for the night, we'll start again tomorrow. We're ideally looking for somewhere not so close to the highway, and closer to a town."

"Why do we need to stay on the beach?" A voice shouted from the crowd.

"Yeah, if we go inland we can find shelter." "There's got to be more people around here." "Why didn't we wait to see if the people were good, or some of ours from the hotel." "They could've been our people."

Holden moved his hands up, "Calm down, they weren't anyone from the hotel, they weren't interested in our group at all. The ocean provides food and it leaves less directions for us to have to watch."

"We're going to die of exposure." "I have a kid, what about my kid." "And what about him, why do you trust him so much?" "Who the hell is he?" "What has he done for us besides sit in his truck all day?" "He doesn't even talk." "He's hiding something." Fingers pointed across the cracking asphalt to Kennon.

He stood still, accepting the words as they flew at him. Jackson moved in front of Kennon, moving his arms, "No, stop it. He's smart, he survived out there for almost three months, alone. He has a better idea of how to survive than the rest of you."

"I backpacked across Australia, I could kill that kid in a heartbeat." A voice shouted from deep within the crowd. I looked back at Ferris, feeling his arm wrap around my wrist. He pushed me behind him, tucking me away from any danger.

"You're not killing anyone who isn't already dead." Jackson hissed across the crowd, his tone shifting from reasonable to livid.

"I don't remember putting you in charge either, so you should just sit down and let us handle things."A reoccurring voice shouted.

I turned back, looking to the ocean. Marty stood in the sand, his dirty black shoes kicking up millions of grains at a time. Randall was making his way over to my brother, his leg sliding out from under him. He cut quickly through the air, his head hitting the ground once before bouncing back up only to hit again.

"Damn!" I shouted, sprinting to the patch of rocks between the road and the beach. I moved carefully across the uneven and wobbly rocks. I looked up at Marty seeing him standing peacefully against the shoreline.

I pushed Randall over, seeing blood drip from his nose. A cut left strands of his hair stuck to his bloody forehead.

I looked over my shoulder, everyone still arguing by the truck. It looked like a fight had broken out. I pushed my hands against Randall's arm, shaking him. "Dammit, wake up."

He sat up, gasping for air. I hesitated to pull my hands away. He wiped his nose, looking around for his glasses. His shaky hand grabbed them from the sand, pushing them onto his face.

A gunshot pulled both of our attention to the crowd, watching the panicked silence rush over everyone.

"Now we're in charge." The reoccurring voice shouted. I watched as a man pushed my older brother, tearing the gun from his hands. I could feel wind blow past me, Marty running into the crowd.