Page 26 of Sick(ness)

Sawyer carried their bowls to the counter, rinsed them quickly with a splash of water from the pump, and then turned back toward the table. “Alright,” he said, his tone shifting into that familiar, practical mode she’d come to recognize. “We need to figure out our next move.”

Addy frowned slightly as he pulled a folded, worn piece of paper from his duffel. A map. A real one—creased and soft at the edges, dotted with handwritten notes in pencil. She blinked. “Where on earth did you get that?”

He smiled faintly. “Always been a little old-school. GPS is great until the power grid dies.” He spread it out across the table, flattening the corners with a tin cup and his knife. “Here,” he said, pointing to a small dot near a stretch of blue. “This is us. The lake behind the cabin’s right here. And this,” he dragged his finger northeast, tracing along a faded road, “is the town of Ridgeway. It’s small, but last time I was there, they had a grocery store, a pharmacy, a sporting goods shop, and a few smaller stores. If anything’s still untouched, it’s a good place to start scavenging.”

Addy leaned over the map, her eyes following his finger. The distance didn’t seem far, but she knew better than to underestimate the unknown. “How far is that?” she asked.

“About fifteen miles, possibly twenty if the roads are blocked and we have to detour,” he said. “Close enough to make a supply run, far enough that not many people, or sick, are likely to wander this way.”

She nodded slowly, tracing the line he’d shown her. “So, we go tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan,” he said. “I want to make sure the truck’s running right and check the fuel levels before we head out. No sense getting stranded.”

He paused, his eyes flicking up to hers, and his next question caught her completely off guard. “Have you ever fired a gun?”

Addy blinked at him, arching an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

He looked almost sheepish, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Well you looked taken aback by my rifle, yesterday. Just figured I should know. If something happens out there, I need to be sure you can handle yourself.”

Addy crossed her arms and smirked, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Sawyer, I was raised in Texas. I assure you, I can shoot a gun.”

He chuckled, a low, genuine sound that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Fair enough,” he said, still grinning. “Guess I should’ve known better based on your accent.”

“You should’ve,” she teased lightly. “My granddad used to say if you couldn’t shoot a tin can off a fence post by ten, you were useless.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “Alright, cowgirl. I’ll take your word for it. Still,” he added, his tone shifting slightly back to serious, “I’ll show you what I’ve got, make sure you’re comfortable with it. Safety first.”

“Deal,” she said, glancing back down at the map.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, the quiet of morning filling the cabin. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, and the faint reflection of sunlight shimmered off the lake.

Addy traced the edge of the paper again, her mind already wandering to what they might find, or who they might find, when they reached that town.

She didn’t say it out loud, but she knew Sawyer was thinking the same thing. The silence that hung between them wasn’t awkward; it was heavy, charged with the weight of uncertainty.

Finally, Sawyer folded up the map and tucked it carefully back into his duffel. “We’ll head out at first light tomorrow,” he said. “Today, we check our gear and make sure this place is secure before we go.”

Addy nodded, the knot of nerves in her stomach tightening just a little. “Sounds like a plan.”

He looked at her and smiled faintly again, softer this time. “Good. And Addy?”

“Yeah?”

“Glad you’re on my team.”

Her lips curved into a small smile.

“Me too,” she said, and she silently noted that she meant it.

* * *

They spent the rest of the morning checking over the cabin and what little land that surrounded it. The frost still clung to the edges of the tall grass, glittering faintly in the sunlight. Sawyer moved with purpose, steady, methodical, as he made a slow circle around the cabin, checking windows, testing the door locks, and scanning the tree line. Addy followed close behind, mimicking his movements and trying to memorize what he did.

“Rule number one,” he said quietly as he peered under the porch. “Never assume you’re alone. Even if you think you are.”

Addy swallowed hard, glancing toward the woods. The forest was quiet, too quiet, just the sound of a woodpecker in the distance. “Got it,” she said softly.

They finished the sweep and returned to the small clearing near the truck. Sawyer dropped to one knee, unzipping one of the large plastic totes. “Alright,” he said, flipping the lid back, “let’s go over what we’ve got.”