Zomb-Pocalypse 4

Chapter Eight

"What?" I ask groggily, my mind still too worried about Silas to comprehend what Ryan is saying.

"There isn't any smoke coming from Jack's cabin." Ryan says again already heading back inside our own cabin, and I hobble to keep up with him. He beats me by a couple steps and when I finally wheeze my way into the cabin and shut the door he's already grabbed his coat and is trying to get it on with shaking fingers that don't really seem to want to cooperate.

"What are you doing?" I demand, and Ryan turns around and looks at me, worry evident on his face.

"There is no smoke coming from Jack's cabin." He tells me again, like that should make total sense. "There is no smoke because his fire is out, and I can only think of one reason that his fire would be out..." He explains further and I let out a gasp.

"They're sick too!" I say, finally filling in the blanks, and Ryan looks grim. Holy hell! We all have this horrible illness, but at least we've managed to keep our fire going and work in shifts to help one another. A stab of terror hits me right in the center of my belly. I hope Jack and Naomi are okay.

"I hope they haven't caught this, but I haven't seen anybody since the night before you guys left." He tells me, pulling his gloves on without missing a stride.

I reach for my own coat and he holds up his hand to stop me. "What do you think you're doing?" He asks and I give him a look, even as I step around him.

"I'm coming with you." I tell him, the total affect of my rebellion marred by the hoarse cough that I can't keep in. Ryan shakes his head.

"You're too sick." He tells me, punctuating his own lecture with a cough of his own. He looks at me sheepishly after he's hacked up a lung, and most likely his liver too.

"We are both too sick." I admit, "but there isn't anyone else." Ryan looks around at everyone else, sprawled out and helpless as kittens all around the room and finally he nods.

"You're right." He says. "I will probably need your help." I reach over and pass him the keys to the older truck that Megan, Abby, and I use for hauling wood and we each grab a flashlight from beside the door on our way out. On any normal day we could've easily walked the distance in five minutes or less, but today we are barely staying on our feet, and we might need the truck to transport Jack and his sister. If they are as sick as the rest of us, they shouldn't be alone over there.

The walk to the truck is torture, but I keep myself together so Ryan won't change his mind and send me back to the house- from the look of him though, he has his own problems. We are both out of breath, sweaty and shaky by the time we manage to walk to the truck, though neither of us admits it to the other.

Ryan puts the truck in park, and hunches over the wheel as he guides us around the little bend in the road that leads to the cabin where our friends have been staying.

We park out front and Ryan gets out first and starts knocking like crazy on the front door. I follow him more slowly and by the time I reach the top step he is already looking concerned. "They should've answered the door." He tells me trying the door knob. It's locked up tight.

"What are you going to do?" I whisper, leaning heavily against the rough wooden exterior of the cabin. Ryan surprises me by turning around and using a fireman's kick against the door instead of answering. It stubbornly stays put, and he has to kick it several more times before it flies open, slamming against the wall behind it.

"Hello?" Ryan calls, but the room is completely black and still. It kind of gives me the creeps and a shiver of foreboding races up my spine, joining the other shivers that this illness already has playing havoc with my body.