Page 77 of Sick(ness)

“Lucky break,” Sawyer murmured, scanning the storefront.

They slipped inside. The air was stale, reeking of dust and gun oil still lingering. Their flashlights cut through the gloom, sweeping over half-empty shelves. Most of what was useful had been picked clean, but not everything.

Jay found a few boxes of 12-gauge shells tucked behind a stack of bait buckets. “Jackpot,” he muttered, tossing them into his bag.

Sawyer pried open a locked cabinet with the butt of his knife, revealing several boxes of 9mm rounds still sealed in plastic. He grabbed them, along with two hunting knives, a coil of rope, and a small hatchet.

They moved fast, clearing the aisles. Jay pocketed a few fishing lures and a water filter kit. “Never know,” he said when Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “I like being prepared.”

The pharmacy next door was half-collapsed, with glass scattered everywhere. Inside, Sawyer found rubbing alcohol, gauze, and a few bottles of painkillers. Jay unearthed a small stash of batteries, a box of lighters, and to his delight, two unopened toothbrushes.

When they hit the grocery store, they filled a box with whatever was left: canned soup, jerky, crackers, instant coffee, and a dented can of peaches that Jay held up like treasure. “Man, if this isn’t gourmet dining, I don’t know what is.”

Sawyer huffed a quiet laugh. “Let’s hope it’s not expired enough to glow.”

By the time they were done, the sky had lightened to a pale orange. They loaded everything into the truck, breath steaming in the cold. Jay leaned against the hood and lit a cigarette from a battered tin case, taking a slow drag.

Jay’s eyes slid sideways. “That woman’s got you wrapped around her finger. “

Sawyer’s hands didn’t pause on the pack straps. “What’s that supposed to mean? “

” Nothing bad.” Jay tapped ash from his cigarette. “It’s that you check your six every thirty seconds like you’re counting the minutes till we get back. Nobody does that unless they’ve got something worth hurrying home to. “

Sawyer’s jaw muscle twitched. “After what she’s survived, she deserves a hell of a lot better than this nightmare we’re living in. “

“Possibly,” Jay’s voice grew quieter. “But I doubt she thinks she deserves better than you. “

Sawyer shot him a look. “You met me three days ago. “

Jay blew smoke that disappeared into the frozen air. “Three days is enough. The way you watch her when she’s not looking, like she’s the last clean water on Earth.” He hesitated, something raw flickering across his face. “Would’ve given anything to find that before everything went to shit. Someone who makes surviving seem like it might be worth it.”

Sawyer finally looked up, studying him for a moment. “You had someone?”

“Yeah,” Jay said, his eyes distant. “Before the sickness. Didn’t work out. I thought there would always be time to fix it. Turns out time ran out faster than I thought.”

The two men stood there in the thin winter light, silent for a while. The world around them was still, but the air carried an edge, a reminder that peace never lasted long anymore.

Finally, Sawyer tossed his pack into the truck bed. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s check the gas station before heading back.”

Jay nodded, stamping out his cigarette. “Yeah. The sooner we get back to her, the better.”

Sawyer’s only answer was a quiet grunt, but his grip on the steering wheel was tighter than before, because Jay was right. Every mile they put between themselves and Addy made the weight in his chest grow heavier.

* * *

After the truck disappeared, silence descended on the cabin, not the peaceful kind, but the kind that rings in your ears like tinnitus. The early light of dawn started to appear, sending faint rays through the windows patterned with frost. Addy remained frozen by the table, straining to hear the last rumble of the engine until it vanished completely. Her knuckles whitened around the coffee mug; the ceramic warmth the only thing keeping her hands steady.

They hadn’t been gone long — possibly an hour. The fire still burned low, the warmth faint against the growing chill. She moved through the small space, tidying up the dishes they’d used for breakfast, anything to keep busy.

Outside, the woods looked still. Too still.

She stopped mid-motion, listening. Something had shifted, faint, nearly lost in the wind.

A crunch.

Addy turned toward the window, her heartbeat suddenly loud in her chest. The forest beyond was pale and quiet, but that sound hadn’t been her imagination. Another crunch followed, deliberate this time, closer.

Her breath caught.