Don't Whistle Past the Graveyard

Ch. Twenty-Nine

The problem with a zombie apocalypse? Aside from the obvious?

It's just that the hits keep coming. You've barely managed to recover from one blow when something else comes up trying to knock you on your ass.

I woke up that morning to Shane kissing along my jaw. Not a bad way to wake up by any means.

"I let Kyle know about those guys," Shane said against my skin. "We're gonna move on here in a bit. Just waiting for you to wake up."

I felt him smile against my throat and opened my eyes to a grey, early morning light. Obviously they hadn't been waiting for me very long. I groaned, stretching, then laughed when Shane shifted to where he was on top of me, capturing my mouth in several light kisses before he stopped teasing and kissed me like he meant it.

I sighed happily and ran my hands up under his shirt, fingers trailing lightly over his stomach. I opened my eyes when he arched his back away from my touch and frowned up at him. He shrugged apologetically. "Your fingers are freezing."

I laughed and pressed my hands quickly against his ribs, making him scowl, then pulled away from him. I rubbed at my eyes, still feeling a little sleepy and Shane got off of me. I sat up and looked around. "Where is Kyle?"

"Close," Shane said, scratching at his jaw where his facial hair was making him itchy. I watched him, thinking that Shane had probably never been anything but clean shaven before the end of the world. 

He gave up on abating the itch with a scowl, and said, "He just wanted to run a perimeter one more time. I think he's taking a look at the road, making sure we don't run into anything."

The road in question I could actually just make out through the trees to the west.

"Speak of the devil," Shane said, climbing down out of the truck as Kyle suddenly appeared out of the brush.

"We're clear," Kyle said, nodding at me when I jumped down from the truck, my cold muscles complaining about the jarring movement. Looking at Shane, Kyle asked, "Do you want to keep heading west?"

"Is there a reason we shouldn't?" Shane asked, taking a small drink from one of the water bottles we'd found yesterday. He passed it to me and I took an equally tiny sip, waiting for Kyle to answer.

Kyle shrugged. "Not necessarily. It's just..."

He trailed off and I frowned. Generally, Kyle just speaks his mind when he thinks we should change direction, or when he doesn't agree with a plan.

With another shrug, he said, "There was a head wind coming from the west. Smelled bad."

Shane nodded. "Okay then."

"That doesn't really prove anything, though," Kyle said. "And west is probably better than east or north at this rate. South's not really the best either. I know you want to keep heading away from the coast."

Shane shook his head. "I'd rather not chance it. And we can always circle back west." He grimaced. "It's not like we have any set destination anyway."

That's one of like two things that drives Shane really crazy. Well, that and the lack of a proper shave every morning.

He's always had a destination, even if he didn't know that destination until twenty-four hours prior to departure. Not knowing where he's going makes him twitchy. He likes to have a point on a map that he can say we're heading to.

Kyle knew that better than anyone, and pulled a map out of his back pocket. Handing it to Shane, he pointed and said, "We won't get there 'til later tonight, maybe even after dark, but it's small enough that there probably won't be anything to worry about."