The Altered.

Chapter XXXIII.

When Kano, Aaron, and Miles returned to the treehouse, nobody looked even somewhat unsettled.

In the corner of the room, Percy was fast asleep on Lia's shoulder. She, too, was asleep, her head resting on his. Had Miles been in a better mood, he'd have taken a photo for blackmail material later on.

When the boys dumped the bags down, some heads finally lifted to notice the storm cloud that hung over the returning scouts.

Claire asked tentatively, "Where's Bronte?"

Kano looked like he was about to cry again, but he didn't. He didn't reply at all. The only thing he did was hunt through one of the bags until he pulled out a can of dog food and descended back down the ladder.

It clicked easily.

Luca curled up into a ball and said to nobody in particular, "Why is everybody dying?"

"Because we're always just too late to fucking save them, aren't we?" He wasn't referring to anybody exclusively, really, bar himself. With Harvey, with that couple in the house, with Bronte. Always just a second too late. Suddenly angry, Miles kicked the backpack he'd tossed carelessly onto the ground.

"Miles," Bri said, sounding surprised at his sudden temper. "Cool it."

He pinned her beneath a glare and spat, "Or what? I have every right to be fucking" - he kicked the bag again, hard against the wall - "mad."

Eira flinched.

Miles continued, "I don't think any of you guys really get it. This is - this is the apocalypse." The word felt sour and poisonous coming out of his mouth, but he realised almost immediately that he was right. The Altered were, at this point, as good as zombies, and he'd seen enough death with his own two eyes already to know that mercy wasn't a word in these new, terrifying adaptions' vocabulary lists. "We're all going to die somewhere along the line. This isn't a movie where we save the world. I promise. None of us are going to save the world."

Declan stood up. He was taller than Miles - a lot of people were. "Shut up," Declan snarled with startling vigor. "Just because you let her die -"

Miles didn't let Declan finished. He closed the distance between him and gave Declan a harsh shove on the chest, which caused Claire to scramble out of the way. "You think I let her die? You think I just stood there and -" Miles stopped.

Miles didn't know what he wanted to say. You think I just stood there and watched? perhaps. Or You think I just stood there and let her fight on her own?

Because he had.

Declan stared at Miles, then shoved him back. Aggressively. Miles stumbled, catching himself just before he fell. Whatever he'd felt for a moment there, that stabbing regret, dissipated now to be replaced by renewed frustration. At himself, at the world, at Declan.

Miles clenched and unclenched his fists, staring up at Declan. His chartreuse eyes flashed, and then he swung his fist.

He didn't know why he did. But it felt good.

And it connected.

Miles' fist met Declan's cheekbone and a cry escaped the other boy, who hadn't expected it. Miles was surprisingly educated in the way of a fight, courtesy of his attitude towards other students when he was younger. It seemed he still hadn't grown out of it. "Don't ever say that again," Miles seethed. "I would never let anybody die."

"Don't!" Bri warned, but Declan was already swinging.

His elbow met Miles' ribs, and Miles let out a strangled gasp before collapsing back against the wall, lungs betraying him as he wheezed for air.