“You’re lying.”
He shakes his head once, a brief, dismissive jerk.
My hands ball into fists at my side, nostrils flaring. “You’re not invincible.”
“No shit. But it’s a cold. Just need to find somewhere to get some sleep. It’ll pass.”
He’s right. We need to find shelter. The longer he’s out here the worse it could get.
Two hours later, we come across a small city. Not ideal. Carrionites could be lurking. But Rex is deteriorating.
“No scouting. Just stay on the outskirts and see what we can find.”
I nod.
Shortly after, we find a small warehouse and bunk on a cot in the manager's office. It’s not the warmest, or the safest, but it’ll do.
We crawl into the same sleeping bag as we’ve been doing. Mostly to keep me warm. But Rex tosses and turns throughout the night, his coughing getting worse, and neither of us end up getting much sleep.
Dim sunlight soon filters under the door and I crawl out of the sleeping bag, shivering instantly.
Rex shifts, clearing his throat. "We should get moving.”
“No. You’re getting worse. Let me scout some. Find us a house to hole up in for one more day."
When he nods without protesting, my stomach drops, throat tightening. This is bad. Real bad.
"You should rest here a bit more." I squeeze his shoulder. "I'll be back soon."
He lays back down, his glassy eyes closing.
Reluctantly, I creep away, quickly glancing back to find Rex passed out. He looks like death warmed over.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Outside, the cold wind slices through my jacket like fucking knives. I have to find medicine and shelter. Fast. There ain’t nothing in this shithole world taking Rex from me.
Not after letting him get close.
I leave the warehouse district and head toward the burbs with all the cookie-cutter houses. It's dead quiet, but I stay alert. I can’t let my guard down, not even for a second.
I sweep through a few houses, scoping out food, water, and insulation. I also ransack the kitchens and bathrooms, digging through cabinets for anything useful. Most have been picked clean already. But I find a thicker blanket without holes and some wool socks. The medicine cabinets got jackshit except a few near-empty bottles. I grab every one, not knowing what the hell they're even for. Rex can sort that shit out.
Next couple blocks, more of the same. Just scraps here and there worth taking. In the last house, I hit paydirt, spotting a blue bottle with some cough/sleep shit left in it. There ain't much, but I swipe that too.
Time to get my ass moving and get back to Rex before the sun sets.
After shoving the medicine in my pack, I slip out the back door and ease it shut.
A voice makes me scramble off the porch and crouch behind the piss-poor fence.
Some asshole calls out again. Another dickhead answers him.
They're talking about my footprints.
I'd stuck to the sidewalk, careful not to leave a trail in the muddy ground. But I must've fucked up somehow.
My father’s voice rags on me. He trained me better than that. As they sweep the house, I hop the fence, then book it down the alley.
