“We need to leave.”
“Why?” Adam asked even as he hopped down from the chair he was using to search the top shelf of yet another closet.
“A herd of infected was spotted moving this way.”
Adam swore softly, and we hurried out the front door. The fey jogged with us, easily keeping pace. The neighborhood was quiet with a few fey standing watch on the rooftops. No one seemed overly anxious until we reached the trucks.
The back doors were already shut, and the people inside startled when we opened one to climb in. Today, numerous boxes were packed in toward the front.
“Good haul,” Adam said, sitting beside me.
No one commented. In fact, before the doors closed and cut off all light, I could have sworn one man looked like he was about to throw up.
The truck’s engine roared to life, and we started moving. After a few minutes of hearing nothing, I leaned my head against Adam’s shoulder and relaxed enough to doze.
Neither of us realized how serious the situation had been until the doors opened again at Tenacity. Gore coated the fey, and one of our fellow passengers did throw up at the sight of them.
“What happened?” Adam asked the clean fey offering me a hand down.
“What the fuck do you think happened?” the barfer said. “The infected swarmed the trucks.”
Ignoring that guy, Adam looked at the fey.
“Thanks for keeping us safe.”
The fey glanced at me then Adam before nodding.
There was a lot more tension as the supplies were unloaded and divided. Adam and I had three boxes to carry this time.
“Few more runs like that, and I’ll feel a little better about being stuck here,” he said, not being overly loud.
It didn’t matter. People heard. Instead of angry glares, people either avoided looking at us or smirked, which didn’t make a lick of sense to me until we got home.
All of yesterday’s supplies were gone.
Adam swore up a blue streak.
“Matt warned us,” I said. “Use your eyes, Adam. People are desperate and afraid. That same combination led to the deaths we heard about on the radio.”
Adam stopped swearing and hugged me.
“I’m sorry, June. I promised to keep you safe and am failing.”
“I’m the one that brought us here, Adam. Not you. This isn’t your fault. We just need to be more careful.”
He nodded, but the next morning, he still insisted we leave on a supply run.
“Fine,” I said. “But today we don’t take our personal share.”
Agreeing with me, he nudged me toward the door.
“Give me a few minutes,” he said. “I’m going to make sure our stuff is still here when we get back.”
I didn’t have to wait outside long before he came out and taped a sign on the door. It read, “Do not enter. Trespassers will be shot on sight.”
“Let’s go,” he said.
“They’re going to see that as confrontational.”