Page 53 of Sick(ness)

Sawyer waited for first light, his mind made up long before the horizon started to pale. He leaned over Addy and brushed a light kiss across her forehead.

“Hey,” he whispered. “We need to move. We’re being stalked; it’s not safe anymore.”

Her eyes snapped open, alarm replacing sleep. She sat up quickly, reading the seriousness in his face. “Now?”

“Yeah. Grab your pack.”

They moved fast, shoving food and ammo into their bags, stuffing maps and spare clothes into what space remained. Every sound felt too loud: the rustle of fabric, the creak of floorboards, the quiet clink of Sawyer’s rifle strap.

Then Addy froze. “Sawyer,” she whispered, pointing toward the window.

Two men were approaching from the treeline, moving slowly but with purpose. They weren’t wandering or lost. Their eyes were locked on the cabin.

Sawyer’s stomach tightened. “Get down.”

Addy crouched behind the table, her heart pounding. Sawyer crept to the window, just enough to see their movements: one hanging back near the truck, the other walking straight toward the porch. Both carried rifles slung at their sides; their posture was too confident to be desperate scavengers.

“They know we’re here,” Addy murmured.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said grimly. “The question is, what do they want?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He crossed to the door, his voice low and steady. “If I tell you to run, you don’t look back you go out the back door fast. Understand?”

Addy stared at him, her throat tight. “What about you?”

He gave her a small, almost reassuring smile. “I’ll be right behind you.”

He cracked the door open just enough to step halfway onto the porch, his rifle raised but not aimed. His voice rang clear and sharp across the clearing.

“That’s far enough!”

The man closest to the cabin stopped, his head tilting slightly. Then he smiled, a slow, deliberate smile that made Addy’s skin crawl.

The second man shifted, his hand brushing the stock of his rifle.

Sawyer’s finger tightened on the trigger. “State your business.”

The closer man called back, his voice rough and mocking. “Didn’t know anyone was still breathing out here.” He gestured lazily toward the cabin. “You got supplies? We could trade.”

“Not interested,” Sawyer said flatly.

“Don’t be like that,” the man said, still smiling. “We’re all friends here.”

Behind him, the second man started to move wide, flanking.

Sawyer’s pulse spiked. “Back inside,” he hissed to Addy. She didn’t hesitate, slipping behind the door frame, clutching the pistol so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Before Addy could even step away from the door, the two strangers drew their weapons with practiced efficiency. Sawyer’s rifle came up in one fluid motion as he retreated into the cabin’s protective darkness.

He made his decision in less than a heartbeat.

He grabbed Addy by the arm and pulled her toward the back. “We’re not fighting here,” he said. Grabbing their packs as he propelled her forward. “They’ll burn the cabin down trying to flush us out.”

As they reached the back door, the first gunshot cracked through the air, splintering wood inches from the front window.

Addy gasped, ducking low as Sawyer shoved her through the doorway and into the cold.

“Run,” he ordered. “Stay low and keep moving!”