Chloe

The second my eyes open, they search my belongings. Twenty arrows, Macey's book, my picture is still tucked in my jeans pocket, and the bow lays beside me along with my baseball bat. Yet, there's no Brody.

At least he was honest about his intentions.

Swinging the bow and satchel over my shoulder while swiping up the bat, the door swings open with a whine in time to reveal a grinning Brody. The streams of an early sun are dimmed by his body, and I can only imagine how hot it must be. I hate it when the sun glares into my eyes as soon as they open, it gives me a headache. Perhaps Brody was right, and he can be of use to me—

"Leaving so soon?" He shuts the door and chucks his backpack into the spot he occupied last night.

Scrutinising the object in his hand, I'm fast to voice my curiosity. "What's that?"

His lips split into a bright smile. "This, my friend is breakfast. Yes, my bag has everything, but I thought I'd scan a mile radius around apart from the way we came since that will lead into a run in with your Bestial."

Walking over with a proud expression, he drops a decent slice of meat into my hands.

"Try before you deny, that's all I'm saying . . . although, I wouldn't be surprised if you've already had it."

Tearing off the corner, I pop it in my mouth, chew and swallow. It's good.

"Are you going to tell me now?"

"Had rabbit before?" Brody questions before taking a bite out of his piece.

"Can't say I have." Normally my diet consists of whatever's lying around in the buildings, or what grows outside. "How did you catch it?"

He grabs his bag and produces a net made of reasonable width ropes. "I know it's not anything major, but this baby has been with me for the best part of this crazy journey," he answers joyously. "It comes in handy for the smaller catches like rabbits. In this case, it helped to pick it up after it fell in a hole—which I didn't make. Good idea."

"And who do you think made that hole?" I question, taking another strip.

"Thankfully it wasn't manmade, so we can relax stress free for now."

So that's what we do. My weapons remain intact on my body, and Brody kicks back care free as he munches away.

"I'm grateful for what you said last night."

My attention turns to him after swallowing my final piece. "What?"

Brody scratches the nape of his neck, then scrubs at his jaw in thought before saying, "About your parents. It was brave, not many people share their personal information with someone."

Why is he bringing it up?

My shoulders bunch up for a moment. "It's only fair, you shared something."

He shares a gentle smile, one that nearly steals my breath away. The last time I saw an expression like that was with the others . . . my parents. Clearing my throat, my fingers work to roll the bat back and forth across the floor.

"I'm not going to pry, and I can tell that your wall is up right now, so I'm going to take what I can get."

Five miles after breakfast, Brody has tried to crack jokes like: 'why did the human groan at the Rotter? Because it's infectious.' And 'why shouldn't you run from an infected? Because they're Rabid.' When I didn't crack a smile, he gave up and tried to ask what my favourite thing is about the apocalypse, but there was no answer on my end. I'm not letting my guard slip; free mind, long life.

In my peripheral vision, Brody's kicking shards of stones or twigs . . . and bones. Charming. Who doesn't like a bone kicker, and an annoying whistler at that. The tune isn't decipherable, nor nice. Three seconds pass, and I'm facing him with hard eyes.

"Can you quit it?" I barely keep the words hushed, but judging by the smug smirk, this is exactly what he wanted to happen.

"Finally, she speaks," he says joyfully, hopping over a root in his path. "You have been quiet for who knows how long, I could've mistaken you for an infected."

Thankfully he wasn't looking when my lips involuntarily curve up for a fraction of a second. The air's blowing my hair around, so I use the back of my hand to brush it from view, and the sun's blaring too much for my liking.

"We should cut through the overgrowth, staying out of sight will prevent any hinderance on our route."

His long legs catch up to me and match my strides as he comments, "You said 'our,' I take it we are on an agreement?"

I'm back to ignoring him.

Leaves crunch beneath our shoes, more rustling on Brody's behalf as he is making a habit of not lifting his feet. The overhanging foliage feel warm to the touch when I brush it from my path, making a thick swish sound when it falls back into place. Birds tweet, squirrels chatter, and the scents of nature itself is enough to ease any tension within my system—

"I like the sound of nature," Brody announces as he takes the lead. "I can't remember much from before the virus, but I do recall the sound of our engines and devices blocking it out."

I'm not sure about that, everything back then blurs for me, all that stands out is the memories with my parents. Although, nature never stood out because of the concrete blocks lining the street, adhesive sealing the earth below, and the puffs of smoke from the vehicles.

I guess we have something in common.

"I agree."

He turns to face me, and a light smile graces his features. Narrowing my eyes, his brows furrow in response.

"Don't move." Readying my bow, my nose pulls in the oxygen my body needs. "Drop to your knees when I say, not a second before."

He winks at me and remains perfectly still. Controlling the skip of my heartbeat, my sight follows the lone mammal stalking through the shrubs, the greenery gives way, swaying and parting as the animal comes to a standstill. It's shoulder blades shift visibly below the tight pale skin that shows from the lacking of fur as it readies, and my bow string grows taught in response. Then it charges.

"Now!" Brody drops to his knees as instructed and my arrow flies through the space where his head would have been and sinks straight into the chest of the Rabid.

It howls in pain, and I'm swift to deliver another one to the centre of the cranium.

Duplicates of the call echoes in the distance, and it will only take them a few minutes to catch up to us if we don't make a move. Brody makes sure to stay close to my side as we dart across the leaf littered floor, hopping hazardous roots and stumps in the process. Multiple bodies tear through the shrubs behind us, and my body instinctively zig-zags.

Spotting a trunk at an angle easy for us to climb, Brody makes the first jump to mount it. Pulling me up with him, he tugs my arm, so our bodies connect, arm around my waist as he whips out his pistol, then fires a bullet into the snapping jaws inches from my ankle. Scrambling up to the closest branch, we shimmy across until there's no way for them to reach us.

They know we're here, so leaving isn't an option for either party. We have to kill them.

Brody pulls the trigger once, twice . . . he manages to clip one in the shoulder, and it does nothing but anger it. They're not using a consistent pattern of movements, if anything they're just lashing out on a whim unlike a normal animal would. Dead eyes glare at us, canines snapping at thin air as they jump, scratch, and snarl. Drool dribbles down their stained muzzles, what's left of their fur is matted and the skin showing reveals how their bodies are riddled with holes from anything ranging from bullets to the creatures itself.

"You're up, Pocahontas," Brody states before dropping to his ass and hangs solely by the back of his knees.

Teeth clamp inches from his hair, and that's all I need to snap out of my shock and start firing. One through the head, one jabbing into the eye socket, and the other manages to tear through the throat and burrow into its head, yet it still snarls. Finishing it off, Brody swings back up into a regular sitting position while his hands work to steady himself.

Punching his arm, I growl, "What the hell was that? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

He's silent at first, contemplating his choice of words until he looks away. "I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to worry you."

His voice reminds me of a child who's been scolded by a parent, and it bugs me. It shouldn't because we're not friends, nor am I his guardian. Maybe it's the thought of failing someone, unable to do anything and watch them die.

Mentally shaking my head, I retort, "You meant well, just be careful next time."

"Hey, you know what would have sucked if I did get infected?" he asks in return.

"What?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, I would have been infected."

A small noise passes my lips before it bubbles up into a normal laugh—something that sounds strange in my ears. Shaking my head at the stupidness of it, I meet his eyes.

"That was the worst one so far."

His lips turn up at the sides. "It obviously wasn't that bad if it made you laugh."

My eyes automatically roll. "It's because it was so bad that it made me laugh."

"Do we really need to have that conversation about your views?" he retorts, crossing his arms.

"No, but we can discuss your balance." My eyes drop to the floor, so he understands my meaning.

"Touché, we better go."

To my surprise, Brody helps me out of the tree—even though the help wasn't needed, and the gentleness of his hold snatches the breath from my lungs. For someone who's lived a life like his, surrounded by violence and loneliness, a rougher grip was expected.

Clearing my throat, I'm the first to pull away and turn my back as my fingers work to retrieve the arrows from the fallen Rabids. Some of these are new, the lack of fur loss suggests that, which means these older ones have infected them . . . or there are a few Rotters lurking around.

Gripping the arrow lodged in the back of a skull, I say, "When we're done here, we'll make a move."