Page 16 of Sick(ness)

Before she could fall, Sawyer caught her by the elbow, steadying her with one quick motion. His grip was firm but careful, and for a heartbeat, their eyes met.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, breathless. “Yeah… didn’t expect the road to be this slick.”

He gave a short nod, eyes flicking briefly to her boots before returning to the van. “Try digging your feet in a little more. Use your weight, not your arms.”

They tried again. This time, the van shifted an inch, followed by another. The sound of ice cracking beneath the tires echoed across the bridge. Sawyer grunted, muscles straining under his jacket. Addy matched his rhythm, pushing until her arms trembled.

Finally, with a dull crunch, the van rolled a few feet to the side, enough for their truck to pass.

Sawyer exhaled hard, leaning against the door frame for a moment. “Good,” he said between breaths. “That should do it.”

Addy wiped her gloved hand across her forehead, though it did little to stop the sweat freezing on her skin. “I can’t believe that worked.”

He gave a faint smirk, small but real. “Teamwork.”

She smiled back, the word strange but good on her tongue. “Yeah. Teamwork.”

They both looked out over the bridge. The sun was beginning to set; the pale gold light caught the river below, turning it to thin glass. The world was quiet again, too quiet; but this time, it didn’t seem as hollow.

“Let’s go,” Sawyer said finally, his tone softer than before. “We’ll lose light soon.”

Addy climbed back into the truck, glancing at him as he started the engine. She realized she was no longer watching for danger alone; she was watching for him.

And as the truck rumbled forward over the cleared path, she caught herself thinking that possibly there was still something human left in the world after all.

* * *

They drove for a bit longer before the light began to fade from the sky. The horizon was a washed-out smear of gray and violet, the kind of color that warned of another freezing night ahead. The truck’s heater coughed out tired bursts of warmth, and every so often the headlights caught the glint of frost creeping across the edges of the windshield.

Addy hugged her arms around herself, staring out at the endless ribbon of cracked road. They hadn’t passed another abandoned vehicle in a while. No lights in the windows, no movement in the fields, empty barns, and the occasional shape of a deer frozen mid-step before bounding into the shadows.

Her eyes drifted to Sawyer. His face was set, focused on the road ahead, the glow of the dashboard catching the edges of his features, the strong line of his jaw, the dark smudges beneath his eyes. He looked tired.

Worry twisted in her stomach. “Should we find a place to stop for the night?” She asked finally, her voice quiet.

Part of her hoped he’d say something reassuring, that it was just ahead, that they’d reach the safe zone before dark. Anything to keep her from imagining being stranded out here in the cold.

But he didn’t.

Sawyer’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking softly. “Yeah,” he said after a long moment. “We should probably find a place to pull over. I don’t want to risk driving in the dark and drawing attention to us.”

That last part made her uneasy. “Attention from whom?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

He hesitated before answering. “It doesn’t matter who,” he said finally. “If someone’s out here, it won’t be for a good reason, not now.”

They fell into silence again. The rumble of the engine filled the cab, steady and low. Addy pressed her forehead to the cold glass, watching the world slip by: dark shapes of trees, empty farmhouses, power lines sagging low across the sky like the world itself had gone slack.

After a while, Sawyer pointed toward a turnoff up ahead. “There,” he said. “Looks like an old rest stop or a storage yard. Fencing’s still up. We can hole up there for the night.”

Addy nodded, though her pulse picked up. She tried to ignore the small voice in her head whispering that fences worked both ways, that they kept things out, but they could just as easily keep things in.

The truck’s tires crunched over gravel as they turned off the road. In the fading light, she could make out the shapes of rusted storage containers lined in rows, their metal sides dull with frost. A few picnic tables sat under a collapsed awning, and the remnants of a vending machine lay tipped on its side, glass shattered.

Sawyer killed the headlights but left the engine idling. The sudden darkness was heavier than it should have been.

He glanced over at her. “We’ll stay in the truck. Safer that way. You can rest while I keep watch for a bit.”