Don't Whistle Past the Graveyard

Ch. Fifteen

We had been driving for another thirty minutes when something occurred to me. I looked around the cab, then twisted around in my seat between Shane and Kyle.

"Raleigh?" Shane asked, looking at me once before turning back to the road.

My eyes scanned over the stuff Kyle had put in the bed, which wasn't much, but I didn't see what I wanted to see. Turning back around, I said, "Kyle, did you grab my backpack?"

"What?" Kyle asked, looking at me blankly. I had a sudden, sick feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with the zombies I'd killed.

"My backpack. I... When I was fighting, I took it off. I—" I paused, turning back around, trying to see everything in the back. "I dropped it. Did you pick it up?"

Kyle shook his head mutely.

"Shit," I muttered. "When you were going through the other apartments did you grab any medical stuff? Wraps, pills, anything?" 

I knew I was kind of grasping at straws at this point.

Kyle looked down, frowning as he tried to remember. "I... there were some wraps and stuff like that that I grabbed. Otherwise it was, it was just shit like allergy pills and cough syrup. Nothin' useful." He glanced over at me. "You dropped it?"

My heart started beating hard in my chest.

"You're telling me we've got jack for medical?" Kyle asked, starting to get angry.

I stayed quiet, staring straight ahead. I'd freaking dropped the bag. It was sitting in the bed of some truck.

Kyle turned so that his entire body was facing me. "How could you have dropped it? What the hell are we supposed to do without that stuff? Shane's ankle is already all fucked up. How are you gonna treat it now?"

"Kyle. Stop." Shane didn't even look at his brother.

"No! This is bullshit, Shane! We need that stuff and she just left it there for some other lucky bastard to pick up. Meanwhile, we've got jack shit." Kyle yelled this over my head at Shane.

If I actually had anything to bet, I'd be willing to bet it all saying that that bag is probably still there. The base was completely overrun. You'd have to be crazy to go there. Crazy or desperate.

At the time, I couldn't even look at Kyle. He was right. I couldn't believe I'd messed up like that.

Shane looked over my head, glaring at his brother. I could practically feel the chill of his gaze wafting over me, filling the truck. "You planning on getting yourself all fucked up, Kyle?"

Kyle blinked, startled. "Well, no. But..."

"'Cause if you're planning on screwing up and getting your ass busted, I'd like a heads up." Shane was looking out the windshield again, but his knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

"No. That's not what I meant," Kyle started.

"Then what's the problem? We can always get more." Shane shifted gears, then left his hand resting on my leg. At first I was afraid because his hand was too hot.

Looking at him, I realized he was fine. He didn't have a fever.

I was just too cold.

Shane looked at Kyle and said, "It'll only be a problem if you plan on needing 'em anytime soon." Looking forward he said, "Yeah. Only if you plan on needin' it."

And just like that, Kyle's anger was gone, if not my guilt. His eyes went from me to his brother, then back again. Whatever he saw on my face must have softened him up, because he turned back to the window, falling silent.