He blinks. “Yes.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I just had a moment—not my best. I think I’m just really freaking tired. Plus, adding on those two…people are hard, you know? I never realized before.”
“They were hard before too.”
“I’ve got to learn how to handle my zombie apocalypse stress a little better.”
“Don’t we all,” he agreed, the uncomfortable distance between us easing.
“You know,” he says rubbing his head. “It’s okay to be angry about all this.”
I roll my eyes, noticing guts from the Eater on the top of my boot. I kick the dirt to cover it. “Thanks for the permission to feel, Wyatt.”
His shoulders raise and he opens his mouth to argue but holds his hand up in surrender. He’s done fighting with me tonight. Thank God. I don’t want to fight anymore either.
On the way back to the others I notice him touch his side and I ask, “Do you want me to look at it?”
He stops and lifts up his shirt, revealing the wound. The bandage had held but blood is still seeping through. “It’s not too bad.”
I roll my eyes but at least he let me look at it without a fight. Maybe we’re making progress. “You need to change that.”
“I will.”
We find the twins in the middle of setting up camp. Chloe has a pile of small sticks in the formation of a teepee in a well-used fire pit and Cole has his olive green tent set up.
“That was fast,” I say running my hand over the arched doorway of the tent.
“Fast is the only way to be these days,” he replies. His eyes sweep over me, and I wipe my dirty hands on my pants.
“You sure this tent is a good idea?” Wyatt says poking the thin nylon with his finger.
“We’ll take shifts,” I say. The only other option is sleeping in the truck or one of the disgusting trailers and I just…well I just can’t.
Once Chloe has the fire started I open my bag and pull out the food supplies I have to sort through and share. The others do the same and at the moment we’re doing okay. Of course if movies and books are any indicator, our good fortune should be a sure sign of trouble to come. I look at the cans of food and say, “Does anyone else feel conflicted about eating everything now or saving it? It’s like those dumb people in horror movies. When people are actually prepared they’re the first to go.”
“Yep,” Chloe says with a nod of her head. “I keep thinking, why should I save the good stuff? I could be dead by tomorrow.”
Cole frowns. “Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s true.” She shrugs. “Of course now that I have ten candy bars shoved in my backpack it’s the last thing I want to eat. God, I would kill for a hamburger, you know?”
“Or French fries,” Cole chimes in with a pained look on his face.
“God, I would even take some of that terrible casserole Mom used to make—the one with the peas? I hated that but now? I didn’t realize how awesome home cooked food was, you know?”
“Yeah, remember that summer she was obsessed with beets?” He laughs.
I want to talk about my mom’s food and the things I miss but a lump forms in the back of my throat. It’s too soon and these people are too unfamiliar. I look away hoping the feeling will pass.
“Chloe,” Wyatt calls and tosses her a bag of jerky, the ones she wanted so badly at the diner. She smiles and rips open the top, happily inhaling the scent of vacuum-packed meat. Slowly she eats one piece. Then another.
“So, why didn’t you two go to the shelter?” Wyatt asks. He’s fighting with his pocket knife to open a can of chili. The lid pops open with a click and he sets it on a rock in the middle of the fire.
“We actually went to the shelter a couple of weeks into the announcements,” Cole says.
“Really?” I ask.
Cole nods. “Yeah. It was just the