It was clear that even on the road they made sure to keep in shape, although it was imperative to be strong, especially if someone had a handful of the infected coming after them. Supplies were scarce, but whatever training Mason had allowed him to find things in the woods that were edible. They even caught a few fish in a lake they had come across. That was at least one positive thing in this whole situation: the infected didn’t give two shits about the wildlife, and because of that, overpopulation of the animals was astounding. Good for them, especially when she had Mason and Asher in her corner.
Sparrow stood and dusted off the dirt from her ass. Making her way toward them, she pulled up one of the toolboxes that had seen better days and sat down. The sun had set hours ago, and a lone lit candle sat between them in a rusted-out cup. Mason took out a can of beans, a spoon he kept obsessively clean, some jerky, and a bottle of water. Their supplies were running low, but Mason said there was a town about ten miles from them.
“Once we reach Rockport, it should only be another twenty-five or so miles to the cabin.” Mason pulled out a scary-as-hell-looking knife—one that could easily saw a human body in half, at least in his hands—and went to work on getting the can open. Asher secured the front door, the bay door was locked from the outside with a padlock, and the small side door led to a postage-stamp-sized office that was missing half a wall. Even though all exits were secured, they could easily get out of them if they needed to. The windows were high and small enough that the infected couldn’t get through.
“You think Rockport will have anything left?” Asher sat next to Mason, and the three of them started passing around the can of beans and jerky.
Mason shrugged and swallowed the mouthful of food before speaking. “Not sure. I know the smaller towns lasted longer after the infection than the bigger cities, but it has been months. I doubt there’s much left, but we might be able to find a few supplies.” They finished eating in silence, and then they sat there, no one speaking, but the discomfort was thick.
Maybe she was the only one who felt this way? She certainly hadn’t been very social before the infection hit, and it kind of made it even more awkward for her now, given the fact that she felt like some kind of third wheel in their relationship.
“So, Sparrow.” She lifted her eyes and looked at Asher. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, and for a moment, Sparrow let her eyes travel over the hard, defined lines of his biceps. “You got a last name?” His white T-shirt, or what had once been white, molded to his chest, and even with the single candle being the only form of illumination, she could still make out the ridges that lined his abdomen.
She stared into his eyes, ones she couldn’t see very well because of the shadows but that she knew were a bright blue. Even after traveling with them, she had only told them the bare minimum about herself, and she didn’t think a last name was really important anymore. “Gray. It’s Gray.” His blond hair was short, but then again, Mason had just cut it with a rusty pair of scissors. She flicked her eyes to Mason. He watched her silently, but she noticed he did that a lot.
“Is Sparrow a nickname or something?”
She didn’t talk her eyes off Mason when Asher asked her. Clearing her throat, she pulled her jacket closer to her body and shook her head. “No, my parents just wanted their kid named after I bird, I suppose.” She hadn’t said it to try to be funny, but apparently he thought it was, because Asher chuckled softly. She hated her name growing up, got teased relentlessly during school because of it, but now as an adult, she liked that it was so unusual.
“You don’t talk much.” Mason’s voice was just as deep as Asher’s, but he had more of a stoic personality.
She glanced over at him. “Neither do you.”
He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Being on the road with these two guys had showed her a lot. Sparrow didn’t just keep quiet because it was the smart thing to do or because that was what Mason wanted. She also did it, because it gave her a chance to really learn about them and see the things they might not have shown if they knew someone was watching.
Most of the time, she didn’t even think they realized she was still with them. They would be so caught up in talking strategy or scanning their surroundings that Sparrow watched them and learned little things about them. For instance, Mason always had a hand on the hunting knife strapped to his outer thigh or on the butt of his gun. He also was the one who listened more than spoke, and he seemed cold on the best of days.