Running with Rogues

CHAPTER 7 - TESCO

What's Bryn up to, lads? You'll never guess. No, really. You won't.

I drowned my phone during The Flu Part 4, so I have to check my notifications on the laptop like an animal and you'll have to forgive me if I miss one. Hello Croatia, Saudi Arabia, Kenya and the Philippines.

(Also if you're not British and you're confused later come back and take a peek at this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mblkUZgOwPQ)

I made Bryn a sandwich. Well, technically, I made him two sandwiches, but one of them didn't survive the trip to the ward. They were marmite and cheese, which was Bryn's second favourite sandwich filling. His actual favourite was fish fingers and mayo, but I disagreed with that ... abomination on moral grounds.

The ward was an extension of the original cabin. Six years ago, it had only been used for patching up our raiders. Now it was fast becoming Eira's bedroom, because she spent more nights in here than she did in the loft with the rest of us.

I peered through the window, shading my eyes with one hand. My sister was fast asleep on the bed, a drip in her arm and her honey-blonde hair plastered to her forehead. She'd always had trouble keeping weight on, but she seemed to have lost half a stone in the last two months alone.

Bryn was slouching in the old, moth-eaten armchair by the fireplace, his legs tucked against his chest. He was sixteen years old, and he'd nearly finished growing, but he still had some filling out to do. I'd rather he stayed skinny, to be honest — I was already having trouble putting him on his arse.

I knocked on the door softly and beckoned with a finger. He looked up sharply, his hazel eyes widened, and he started grinning. He crept past Eira and came out into the corridor. I braced myself to collide with seventy kilos of awkward, gangly muscle, but the impact never came.

"Thank the Goddess," he breathed, pushing straight past me. "I need a piss."

"What, no hello? No hug?" I demanded.

"I really need to piss," Bryn said by way of explanation. He jogged towards the forest, nearly disappearing into the trees before he glanced over his shoulder and changed direction completely, circling towards the front of the cabin.

"I saw that, Bryn, you absolute walnut," I called after him. "If you're going to lie to me, at least do it right."

"Sorry," he laughed. "That's my bad."

Idiot. He was up to something, of course, but he was always up to something. If a day ever came when he was just sitting around minding his own business, all innocent like, then I'd worry.

I opened the ward door and settled in the arm chair. I kept one eye on Eira's midriff to make sure she was breathing, as always. She was still fast asleep, but it didn't look like a restful sleep. Her eyelids were twitching and her mouth was stretched thin, like she was in pain, and that wouldn't surprise me. Eira was nearly always in pain.

Twenty minutes later, the ward door opened, and Bryn crept back in. This time, he did hug me, and it was a bruising, rib-cracking hug. He smelt like cheap air-freshener with a trace of ... grapes? He squeezed into the armchair beside me, and we were crushed together like sardines.

"How are you, little cousin?" I asked. We used the link to avoid disturbing Eira.

"Bloody starving," he replied, staring wolfishly at the sandwich.

"Well, it's your lucky day," I said.

He didn't need any further encouragement to grab it and start scoffing. "Thank you."