* * *
They hadto fold part of the back bench seat down, but they got Hanes’ body in the back of Harlow’s Jeep. Foxx found it interesting that Harlow happened to have a body bag ready to go in there, but he supposed, being prepared for anything was…part of the job.
Once they'd got the seat covers in place, Foxx jumped in and glanced back at the black body bag. It wasn’t crammed in there, but it likely wouldn’t move much, as Hanes had not been a small man. His head tilted slightly as the center of the bench seat caught his eye. What…?
He stared at what looked to be a built-in refrigerator. The thing seemed to have replaced the center seat of the bench. Twisting more in his seat, he reached out and lifted the hinged lid, his brow rising upon finding it filled with blood, and a bag of metal straws. Harlow…hadsaid he packed blood, but Foxx had assumed the man had grabbed his portable blood fridge.
Foxx closed it and straightened in his seat when Harlow got in, asking, “When did you get a refrigerator put in?”
Harlow glanced back briefly before pulling his seatbelt on and saying, “Like two weeks ago, I’m surprised you've only just now noticed it.”
He frowned. Two weeks ago?! Oh, he really needed to start being more observant…
Well, even if it had been sitting in the car for a while, it’s not like it would go bad. The blood the various governments had started releasing for his kind to buy was already expired. Expired and then repacked with an anticoagulant that would keep it liquid for years. Luckily, it being expired didn’t change the taste much, or affect its nutritional value—at least, not for a vampire. But…
“But why?”
“Because we don’t always have time for you to pack blood, and this way, it’s already here.”
“Oh… Thank you…I guess,” he said slowly, not sure how he should feel about it.
It was…odd having someone do something for him without having to ask. Not that his friends didn’t do things for him. And Harlow was a friend…
Of course, he wasn’t fucking any of his other friends… But Harlow wasn’t…
Why was he being considerate at all?! The whole friendship had been forced on him! Foxx had literally just brow beaten him until he agreed to the damn thing! The last thing Harlow should be was considerate!
This was bad… No, this was worse than just bad, it was horrible! Harlow was making him feel confused. And he needed to cut it out, right this instant! Because Foxx couldn’t, and shouldn't, feel things for the human. Like, moving past the fact that Harlow was human, which always came with pain due to their short lives, he also wasn’t sure Harlow could or would ever feel anything back. Not that Foxx felt anything. Nope, he felt nothing…ha…
“Foxx!” Harlow snapped.
He blinked, and looked over. “Yes?”
“Since you apparently didn’t hear me the first two fucking times, where is the next closest place?” The human groused, clearly irritated.
“Ah…let me check.”
Four more warehouses and two factories later, he and Harlow were so covered in blood that anyone who saw them would probably think either they were a victim of some crime, or…more likely…escaped psychopaths who had just gone on a stabbing spree. Though, Harlow’s color choice did him a favor when it came to hiding blood—Foxx’s not so much. While they hadn’t run into any more zombies, they had come across quite a few vampires. Foxx was pretty sure that the maximum estimate of fifty they’d been given had been way too low.
Feeling beyond knackered, he eyed the night sky as they drove towards their final stop. The sun had set hours ago, and while Foxx had removed his face shield completely, he left the rest of the sun suit on because it was already ruined at this point, so why ruin the clothes underneath too?
And while, sure, he could have kept his face clean with the shield, he’d discovered early on that it wasn’t worth it. Because keeping glass clean when dealing with constant blood splatter was a nightmare. To even be able to see, Foxx had to clean the damn thing constantly.
Yawning, he asked, “Are we almost there?”
By the Goddess did he want to sleep.
“Yes.” Harlow glanced over at him. “Drink some blood. You held off before in case you possibly needed the boost at the end… Well, this is the end, so drink.”
“Are you holding up fine?”
“I’m good. At least, I'm good enough to finish off one last batch of bastards.”
Foxx squinted at the man suspiciously. “Would you let me know if you weren’t?”
Harlow sighed, and flicked an irritated look his way. “I’m fine, Foxx.”
“If you die because you refused to tell me you were too knackered to fight, I’m going to be pissed.”
