“Okay then,” I say spreading the map on the table. “Once we get off this boat where do you want to go?”
“South.” Wyatt laces his shoes. The soap in his hair and on his skin smells so good. Already, the things we took for granted noticeable. Soap was definitely a luxury.
“But where specifically? I like to have a destination.” I still haven’t told him I have a destination—I want to know where he’s going first.
He stands and walks over, eyes narrowed at the map. He points to a spot just south of the reservoir. “There.”
“Asheboro?”
“Sure.”
“What’s there?” I ask. “Looks pretty deserted.”
“Good, less risk.”
I inhale and add, “Look, I got this far by having a detailed plan. My mom and I had it all mapped out. We got off track sometimes but we kept going. It makes me nervous not to have something organized.”
“Okay well, what was your plan after you got to your aunt’s cabin?”
Wait for my dad.
Go to my sister.
“We didn’t have one,” I lied. “We sort of planned on staying here for a little while.”
Wyatt adjusts his ridiculous top-knot and quips, “Things are changing pretty fast, Alex. I want to get south as fast as possible. You can stay here if you want but I’m going and my next stop—if we make it—is Pittsboro. It looks big enough to have some shelter and some retail for supply restocking.”
I nod and fold up the map, knowing he’s right.
“Anyway,” he says. “Getting off this boat is going to be the real challenge anyway.
“Why?”
He’s looking out one of the small windows. “There are more out there. All over the deck. They don’t seem real active right now but they’ll rouse pretty quickly once we make a move.”
I push him aside and try to get a look. I can’t see much but there are definitely more arms and legs up there than when we came in. We may have only managed to corner ourselves.
“Shit, okay. So how do we want to do this?”
“We’ll have to fight our way out and get off the deck. We’ll run back the way we came and then loop around the lake.”
I eyed his gun. “How many bullets do you have?”
“Enough but I’m not keen to waste them. Your hatchet is good—you just need to be fast. I’ll try to knock most out with the butt of my gun, but I’ve got a knife too.”
He held up the shiny silver blade and rubbed it on his pants.
“Do you ever feel bad about it? Killing them?”
“They’re as good as dead, Alex. I’m just making the reality come a little faster.” He stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He grimaces from the pain in his side and I’m even more convinced leaving now isn’t the best idea.
He seems determined though, so I strap on my pack. Wyatt stops at the small kitchen and picks up a can of bug spray. “What’s that for?”
“Just a little extra insurance.”
I follow him up the small flight of steps and he turns, handing me his gun. “Hold this until I need it—and stay behind me.”
“What?” I ask, but I see the lighter in his hand. He’s going to blow torch the Eaters off the boat. The thought makes my stomach turn.