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 bottle with some green cough/sleep shit left in it. There ain’t much, but I swipe that too.
Time to haul ass 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. Would’ve made sure to punish me for fucking up. Might’ve even sacrificed me as bait to get away.
As they sweep the house, I hop the fence, then book it down the alley.
I’m not sure if they’re Carrionites or just random scavengers but I gotta shake these pricks before returning. I double back a few blocks, leaving some fake trails, then circle to the warehouse.
Rex is right where I left him, bundled up on the cot, looking like shit. But he’s still breathing. That’s what matters.
I clear my throat instead of shaking him awake. Last time I tried that, he almost choked me out.
“Rex,” I call out.
He stirs a little but doesn’t open his eyes.
I say his name louder, and he cracks one eye open, glaring at me.
“Found some shit.” I dump out all the pill bottles, making a pile next to his cot. “Might be antibiotics here. I dunno.”
He hauls himself upright, looking like hammered shit. His hair’s sticking out everywhere and he’s got dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. The fever’s flushing his face and neck red too. He looks miserable as hell.
“Let me see,” he mutters, voice all raspy.
He grabs the bottle of the thick green cough syrup first, tipping it to the side slightly and frowning at the bare mouthful left. Setting it aside, he sorts through the various orange and white bottles. “Gabapentin. Furosemide. Tamsulosin. Ha! Don’t need that yet.” He tosses a big white bottle my way. “Multivitamin. You should probably be taking those.” He sorts through the rest. “Citalopram. Metoprolol. Huh. Zolpidem.”
He hesitates over that one, looking contemplative.
I stop pacing. “Will it help?”
“It might, for sleep anyways. But Ambien fucks me up,” Rex grumbles, tossing it aside.
“Don’t care. The coughing is keeping you up. You need to sleep, so take the shit.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
My fists curl tight, knuckles blanched bone white, pulses hot and unwanted in my gut. “Like fuck. It’s a big deal. Take the pills and get some rest.”
A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Bossy thing, aren’t you?”
I don’t find it amusing, not when the coughing fit that follows leaves him hunched over and rubbing his chest.
“We should move somewhere warmer. This place sucks. Spotted some houses that might do.” I don’t mention the real reason I wanna get the fuck out of this building.
Those two pricks are probably out there right now still trying to follow my trail. And if they find us and Rex is knocked out from the meds, he’s a sitting duck.
