Don't Whistle Past the Graveyard

Ch. Eighty

"How much longer?" I asked, my hand tightening on Shane's hip. 

"We're nearly there," a man with salt-and-pepper hair said over his shoulder. "We usually leave the cars on the edge of town. Less—"

"Noticeable. We know," Sacha said from where he was just ahead of me and Shane.

Silence fell again. None of you really seemed to know what to make of our brusque manner. 

We'd been walking through town for better than an hour—mostly in silence—and Shane's arm had grown progressively heavier where he had it draped across my shoulders. A bead of sweat traced down the side of his face from his temple, his hair and shirt damp with it.

I could hear his breath wheezing in his lungs. His eyes were dull with fatigue and fever, fixed on the horizon as he forced one step after another.

Stupid. I was so goddamn stupid. How could I have possibly missed how bad he'd gotten?

"Knock it off," he rasped quietly, grimacing at what I suspected was a sore throat. 

Startled, I looked up at him, both of us swearing when he stumbled slightly. I looked over at just the right moment to catch you watching us curiously. You whipped your head back around as soon as you met my eyes. 

"Knock what off?" I muttered.

"Blaming yourself." He turned his head, coughing, steps slowing even more. I bit my lip to keep from swearing again, and couldn't stop myself from looking around nervously, waiting for the sound to draw some undead attention.

I just snorted in reply when he managed to regain his breath as best he could. We had trailed a little farther behind the others, and I glared at the back of Dad's head for the quick pace he was keeping.

Shane's hand squeezed my shoulder and I looked up to find him giving me a frown. Sighing, I muttered, "I'll stop just as soon as I stop hearing your lungs every time you inhale. Deal?"

"No," he grumbled, but wisely didn't say any more.

Two long-ass years together and he knew that I was going to stay mad at myself until the problem was taken care of. By now, the wheezing had morphed into a rattle that turned my stomach with nerves.

It just sounded ugly.

Kyle brought up the rear and I could hear the sand and small rocks strewn across the asphalt crunch under his boots as he pivoted every few minutes to watch our back-trail. 

This served two purposes: to make sure nothing was following along, and so he could create a reverse map in his head. We didn't know what we might run into, but we didn't want to risk getting caught unawares and being unable to work our way back to the last place we saw Aaron and Viktoria.

Cassidy, Danielle and Sacha walked in front of us, keeping a barrier between our group and theirs. Even as sick as he was, I knew it was driving Shane crazy to not be the first line of defense.

What? 

Look, just because my dad was there, just because you'd offered help and medicine didn't mean we were jumping onto the trust ship. Honestly, you should know that by now.

We are all suspicious as hell. Why? Because the world has continually tried to wipe us from existence. What's that saying? It's not paranoia if something is actually trying to kill you?

I get it. I heard your story. You were in a part of the country that was pretty much cleared out. Evacuations were almost non-existent because the virus hit so damn hard here. You might have been swimming in dead people, but at least they were just dead people.