Page 65 of Sick(ness)

“I saw folks go down with fevers, then wake up days later, changed. Slower. Confused. Some were violent. Some just… were not there. Like their minds were burned out, but the bodies kept going.”

Addy shivered, remembering the neighbor she’d seen collapse on her street weeks ago. “You think it’s still spreading?”

Jay’s eyes narrowed as he stared out the window, his knuckles whitening around his rifle strap. “Everything spreads,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Like cancer. Like wildfire. Like whatever the hell turned our neighbors into those things.”

Sawyer’s jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle jumped beneath his stubbled skin. “This place is north. How secure is it?”

“The cabin’s half-buried in the woods,” Jay said, turning back with a hard glint in his eyes. “I reinforced the doors. I got solar, got a well that still runs, and enough ammunition to hold off whatever comes crawling.” He leaned forward. “You’re welcome to it, if you can pull your weight when the time comes.”

Sawyer’s eyes narrowed, but something in his chest loosened. The offer of shelter pulled at him like gravity, even as warning bells clanged in his mind. Jay seemed genuine, the kind of straight shooter he’d trusted his life to overseas, but these days, trust was a luxury that killed faster than the cold. Still, they needed somewhere to go.

Addy’s heart hammered as she locked eyes with Sawyer, her silent question hanging between them like a live wire.

* * *

Sawyer didn’t lower his guard right away; his eyes sharp and unreadable. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t jump at the chance to follow a stranger into the woods,” he said evenly.

Jay gave a small shrug. “I can’t say I blame you. Stranger danger and all that.” His tone was dry, edged with weariness rather than sarcasm. “I’d feel the same if our places were swapped.”

Addy glanced at Sawyer, then back at Jay. “How do we know you’re not leading us into something?”

Jay’s weathered face creased into something between a grimace and a smile. “You don’t,” he said simply, breath clouding in the cold air between them. His eyes flicked to the rifle in Sawyer’s hands, then back up. “You’ve got a gun, though, and from the way you hold it—finger off the trigger, stock braced against your shoulder just so — you know how to use it.” He gestured toward the frosted window where snowflakes swirled like ash. “If I wanted trouble, I’d wait till that blizzard pins you down, till you’ve burned the last of your fuel and counted your final bullets. Till desperation makes you careless.”

That made Sawyer’s jaw twitch, a point reluctantly conceded.

Jay stepped carefully away from the door, hands still visible. “Look, I get it. You’ve lasted this long because you’re smart. Careful. That’s good. But winter’s not even started yet, and this town’s small. You can dig through every shop here and still starve by next week. My place isn’t much, but it’s shelter. Food. Heat. And I’ve got eyes on what’s happening out there.”

Addy frowned. “Eyes how?”

Jay hesitated, glancing toward the window before answering. “Got a shortwave radio still operational. I’ve been listening. Whatever this thing is, whatever started it, the government’s not saying much anymore, but I’ve picked up transmissions. Military chatter. They’re regrouping somewhere north. A safe zone, maybe, or something like it.”

That made Sawyer’s head snap up. “Military chatter? You sure?”

Jay nodded. “As sure as I can be. Most of the signals are scrambled, but some come through. They’re not talking about evacuation anymore, though. They’re talking about containment.”

Addy shifted uncomfortably. “Containment. Like… burning cities to the ground containment?”

Jay’s eyes flicked to hers, and that was answer enough. “I think it’s worse than they let on,” he said. “Whatever’s spreading, it’s not something they can stop with medicine or walls. So they’re closing ranks. And anyone outside the lines? Left to fend for themselves.”

Sawyer’s expression hardened, his military training kicking into gear. “And you’ve been tracking this the whole time?”

“Long enough to know no one’s coming to save us,” Jay said. “I’ve been staying ahead of it by keeping off the roads. Listening.”

He looked at them both then, his voice steady but low. “I’m not asking you to trust me right off the bat. Just come take a look. You’ll see it’s safe. If it’s not for you, you can leave with a full belly and a direction to head.”

Addy crossed her arms. “You’d really do that? Just let us walk away?”

Jay’s faint smile was tired but genuine. “Lady, I’ve got enough ghosts in my head. Don’t need more.”

The silence that followed was thick. Sawyer weighed every word, watching Jay’s body language, his stance, his tone. He’d learned to read people the hard way, and nothing in Jay’s voice rang false.

Finally, Sawyer exhaled. “All right,” he said. “We’ll come and take a look. But we walk behind you, and I don’t drop the rifle.”

Jay nodded, no offense taken. “Fair trade.”

Addy adjusted her scarf and shouldered her pack. “How far is it?”

“Two miles, maybe less if the drifts aren’t bad,” Jay said, slinging his own rifle over his shoulder. “You’ll know it when you see it — a little cabin built by my dad back before the world forgot how to slow down.”