“There’s more than enough here to keep us going.” Reid stares down the aisle of the gas station, blinking in the bright fluorescents, amazed at the fully stocked shelves while Cole’s mouth runs on. “We even found these.” He holds up a pair of jeans. They look new. “This must have been some kind of general store or something.”
Or a trap. Reid’s nervous mind screams that at him while he hesitates. “Have you touched any of this?”
Cole’s smile fades as Milo emerges from the back with a candy-bar sticking out of his mouth and his arms full of clothing. That answered his question.
“Why?” Megan slides in next to Reid, her little fingers finding his. It’s the first time she’s approached him on her own and he is surprised but does his best to keep his fear to himself when he answers her.
“We’re still inside the fence.” He feels like a skipping tape. “We have no idea why the hunters left this stuff behind. Maybe on purpose.”
“What if this was left here for them?” Cole’s sliver of hope fades as even he sees the hole in his own logic. “They don’t eat this stuff, do they?” He drops the jeans, looks with longing at the potato chip display next to him.
“It’s a trap,” Reid says. “It has to be. They wouldn’t just leave food lying around for us to find. Or kid’s clothes.” The jeans are small, too small for most adults. It’s obvious what this is.
“It’s worth the risk.” Cole’s face is set, closed. For the first time since they met, he refuses to listen to Reid. “I’m hungry and dirty and I want to sleep in a real bed.”
Mutters run through the assembled pack. They are all there now, waiting. They may not be listening to Reid, but they still respect him enough not to act without his permission.
“It’s possible they didn’t think we’d make it this far.” Leila goes to Cole, slides her arms around his shoulders. She looks up at Reid. “Right?”
She needs him to back her up, to give them their reason for living back. Without it, they are lost. All of them. The fence is just too much. This slice of humanity calls to them like home.
Reid doesn’t get the chance to dash her hopes or anyone else’s. Marcus shoulders his way past, scowling at Reid on the way by.
“Not for you to say.” He grabs a box of cereal from the top shelf and rips it open, cramming a handful into his mouth, every grind of his teeth challenging Reid to stop him.
Reid doesn’t. His heart isn’t in it. Megan’s fingers let him go as he backs off and lets the kids swarm the place. Reid waits at the doorway, watching them as even Leila hunches over a crinkling bag of cheese puffs, shoving the twisted orange bits between her lips, the powder all over her face.
“That’s enough.” Marcus grabs food from the kids, holds it to his chest, herds them with his body until they are all standing at the front of the store. “You’ll ruin everything if you keep this up.” Like he hadn’t just been stogging his own food into his big mouth. “I’m in charge of the supplies from now on. You’re hungry, you ask me.”
Reid has had enough. He turns and leaves with one parting shot.
“Better make sure this stuff isn’t poisoned first.”
Reid hears gasps, turns to see Marcus’s face go sheet white as he lets the door hiss shut on its hydraulic hinges behind him.
He can’t help but grin into the darkness.
Reid is part way down the street, trying to decide what to do now when someone pants to a halt behind him. He turns to see Leila standing there, traces of fake cheese still on her cheeks.
“Don’t go.” She reaches for him. “Please. Don’t let him take over. We won’t make it.”
Reid wants to take her hands, to comfort her and tell her everything will be okay but he doesn’t have that much left to give.
“I can’t help you.” He steps away. “Go back to your boyfriend. Let him get everyone killed. I’m tired of trying and being stabbed in the back.”
He means it, only now realizing it’s true. Reid has done everything he can to save them and they don’t give a crap. Well, then he doesn’t give a crap either.
Leila looks like he slapped her.
“Fine,” she snaps. “Be a jerk. Run off, just like you’ve wanted to all along. Let Marcus ruin everything we’ve accomplished. But if these kids die because you lost your balls, I’ll never forgive you.”
She runs back to the store before he has a chance to react. He wishes he can muster some anger at her but that’s gone, too. Reid shrugs and walks away.
Time to take care of his own needs for once.
He is part way down the street by now, not far from the store, on the fence side. He turns his head, sees a house. Perfect. Reid uses a rock to break the window on the front door and goes inside. Despite his warnings to the kids, he knows he needs food and water and a change of clothes if he can manage it. Not to mention sleep. Sleep is very important.
He locates a first aid kit in the bathroom of the single story and tries the tap. Power means water. Perfect. He carefully unwinds the bandage from his broken hand, hissing at the pain but is surprised to notice the swelling is gone and the bones seem to be back in place. Reid thinks about it. Maybe he didn’t break them after all, just bruised them. Relieved, he checks his other hand, afraid of what he’ll find now that he has real light to see by.
The bandage flutters from his numb fingers as he stares at the bite. There was a chunk of him missing when it happened, he was sure of it. But now it’s pink, smooth skin, no scar, no missing flesh. It’s like the bite is almost gone.
He counts the days as best he can. It’s been a maximum of two, maybe even as little as a day and a half. There is no way he’s healed that quickly. Reid looks in the mirror, flinching from the ghost of himself that looks back. But his sea-green eyes are level and steady and he knows he’s not going nuts.
So, what happened? He has no answers. Instead of letting it distract him, he instead makes use of the water and splashes the dirt from his hands and face.
There is hot water. Hot. He looks longingly over his shoulder at the shower. He can’t. It’s not safe. And yet, the chance to be clean calls him like a siren song.
Reid finds clothes in a bedroom closet, fresh socks and underwear in a dresser drawer. Even new sneakers sitting quietly in the hall. He looks at the shower again. A towel hangs outside it, inviting him. A bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, peek out from behind the curtain.
It’s too much. He leaves the door open, the curtain gaping with the bathroom light shut off. He turns the water on as hot as he can stand it, lathering himself over and over again with as much foam as he can create, letting it sting his eyes as he rinses, gaze never leaving the hall outside the bathroom. He only allows his eyes to close for a second while he washes his face and instantly flings them open again, tiny droplets flying from his eyelashes.
Reid finally stands there in the slowly cooling shower, letting the pressure pound against his shoulders and ease his muscles. When he steps out, dripping, to the floor mat, his feet squidge in the water that escaped onto the floor.
One of the toothbrushes in the holder gets slathered with toothpaste. He brushes three times before he’s satisfied.
He carries the towel and clothes into the bedroom and dries himself off, carefully dressing in the dark. The fresh underwear feel fantastic, the t-shirt so soft his skin sighs. The pants are too big but a search of the closet turns up a belt. His feet wriggle inside the thick socks. He is clean and calm and starving.
The kitchen is fully stocked, like whoever lived there was relocated without a chance to do anything about it. Most of the food in the fridge is spoiled but the freezer is full of meat and the cupboards are stacked with canned food. He finds a toaster and a frozen loaf of bread. The smell of toast makes his knees weak. A sniff of the peanut butter is all the encouragement he needs to slather on a half-inch layer and cram the hot and gooey mess into his mouth.
He chews slowly at first, trying to pace himself, but it tastes so good he is soon toasting and eating and barely waiting for the frost to leave the bread before he is devouring it.
Reid finally retreats to the bedroom again with the rest of the peanut butter, a spoon stuck in the jar, and a bottle of water. He washes down his meal, contemplating the bed while he sticks another spoonful of crunchy in his mouth. Reid needs sleep. The food has made him so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. But he doesn’t dare stay here.
Does he?
His body doesn’t give him a choice. Reid collapses on the bed, with just enough energy left to pull the dusty comforter over his legs before falling into a deep sleep.
***