Chapter 34: A river in Egypt

Night had settled on the camp fast.

The air was sharp with cold and smoke, embers from the fires drifting like dying stars. Most people had retreated into tents, voices lowered, the camp pulled inward on itself the way it always did after violence. Like pretending quiet could undo noise.

I crouched near a dented metal pail by the fire pit.

The water inside was pale in the moonlight, skin-slick and trembling when I touched it. I dipped my hands in, sucked in a breath, and lifted the water to my face.

Cold bit hard.

I hissed as it hit the graze on my cheek, blood gone tacky, the skin around it swollen and angry. The pain was sharp enough to cut through everything else for half a second.

Then it was gone.

The smell lingered instead.

Gunpowder.

Metallic. Bitter. Like it had soaked into my lungs instead of my clothes.

My fingers shook when I dipped them back into the water, rubbing gently at the cut, trying to wash away something that wouldn’t come off. I scrubbed until the skin burned, until my hands ached.

It didn’t help.

The memory wouldn’t loosen its grip.

Her weight on my chest.

The pressure.

The sound.

BANG.

I exhaled slowly and leaned forward, plunging my face into the pail. Water closed over my ears, dulling the world, swallowing sound. For a moment there was nothing but cold and the steady thud of my heart.

It was just another episode.

That’s what I told myself.

Just the disease. Just fear twisting her up into something ugly. She didn’t mean it. She wouldn’t—

I lifted my head, water streaming down my chin, dripping back into the pail in uneven drops.

I wiped my face on my sleeve and stood, legs stiff, joints aching like I’d aged ten years in a day. The campfire cracked softly behind me as I ducked into my tent, grabbed a rag, pressed it briefly to my cheek.

Then I stepped back out into the night.

The cold hit harder now.

And the first face I saw was Aubrey’s.

She stood a few feet away, arms crossed tight over her chest, shoulders squared like she’d been bracing herself. The firelight caught the edges of her hair, the tension in her jaw. She hadn’t been wandering.

She’d been waiting.

My stomach dropped.

I turned my head instinctively, starting to step past her.

“Hey.”

The word didn’t sound like a greeting.

I stopped anyway.

She closed the distance in two strides, voice already rising. “What the hell is up with you? What were all those gunshots? Do you have any idea how loud that was?” Her eyes flicked past me, scanning the dark. “The infected could’ve heard—”

“Stop stalking me, Aubrey.”

The words came out cold. Sharp. I barely recognized my own voice.

Her expression froze.

For a split second, I thought she might actually step back.

Then the anger hit.

White-hot. Immediate.

Before I could react, her hand closed around my wrist, grip firm, and she yanked me back around to face her. Not violent. Not gentle either.

Her eyes snapped to my face.

They widened.

Just slightly.

Her other hand lifted without asking, fingers brushing my chin, tilting my head to the side so she could see the graze properly. Firelight caught the raw skin, the thin smear of blood I hadn’t managed to clean away.

Her breath hitched.

“What the fuck happened, Adrian?”

I pulled away hard enough that her hand dropped.

“I had an accident,” I said flatly. “Nothing that concerns you.”

Her mouth opened, then shut again. Her brows knit together, disbelief bleeding into her anger.

“An accident,” she repeated. “You don’t get a gunshot graze from tripping over a root.”

I didn’t answer.

Silence stretched between us, thick and brittle. The fire popped behind her. Somewhere farther off, someone coughed. The world kept moving like nothing had changed.

Aubrey’s voice dropped. “Was it Lila?”

My chest tightened.

I looked past her, at the dark line of trees, at the way the shadows seemed to lean closer when you weren’t paying attention.

“That’s not your business.”

She stared at me for a long moment, searching my face like she might find the truth etched into my skin if she looked hard enough.

Her jaw set.

“You’re shaking,” she said quietly.

I hadn’t noticed.

I curled my fingers into fists, nails biting into my palms. “Hale was just— he was teaching me. That’s all.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Her voice wasn’t loud now. It was worse—controlled. Hurt threaded through the anger, sharp enough to cut.

“You disappear. There are gunshots. You come back bleeding. And you think you can just brush past me like I won’t notice?” She shook her head. “You don’t get to—.”

“Just fucking drop it, alright man?”

That did it.

“You aren’t even my friend. You’re Lila’s. Stop acting like you give a shit.”

Hurt flashed on her face for a brief moment, before she stepped closer, dropping her voice even further. “If someone put a gun to your head—”

“She didn’t,” I snapped.

The lie burned on the way out.

Aubrey flinched like I’d slapped her.

We stood there, staring at each other, the space between us charged and fragile. I could feel eyes on us now— shapes shifting at the edges of tents, people pretending not to listen.

I hated that she’d seen.

I hated that part of me was relieved she had.

“Just—” I dragged a hand through my damp hair, suddenly exhausted. “Just leave it alone, Aubrey. Please.”

I turned to walk.

I didn’t look back, but I felt it anyway—Aubrey’s stare burning into the space between my shoulders, her expression hardening as I put distance between us.

“Adrian…?”

Terri’s voice caught me just as I passed the edge of the fire pit.

“Are you—?”

“I’m fine.” My words came out flat.

Terri frowned as I brushed past her, confusion flickering across her face before it settled into something quieter. Hurt, maybe. Or concern she didn’t know what to do with.

Guilt coiled in my stomach.

Terri never deserved that. She never pushed. Never demanded. She just… cared. And I’d treated it like an inconvenience.

I walked faster at that.

Boots scraped dirt. Firelight faded. The camp thinned out into darker lanes between tents where conversations dropped to murmurs and eyes pretended not to follow me.

I barely made it five seconds.

“Adrian.”

I didn’t stop.

Footsteps fell in beside mine, matching my pace perfectly. Too deliberate to be accidental. I didn’t turn my head. I didn’t ask who it was.

“We have a problem.”

I exhaled through my nose, irritation flaring sharp and tired. My body ached. My head throbbed. Every nerve felt scraped raw.

I stopped anyway.

Slowly.

“Can this please wait until morning?” I said, rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m exhausted.”

The camp member didn’t slow. Didn’t soften it.

“Scouts spotted infected moving this direction. A few miles out.”

That made my hand drop.

“Count’s just over a dozen,” they continued. “And one of them’s armed.”

The word armed hit like ice water.

I turned now.

“What?”

“There’s a real chance they drift into the clearing before we know they’re close,” the camp member said. “If that happens, they won’t be wandering. They’ll be looking.”

My fatigue evaporated in an instant, replaced by something tight and alert. My jaw clenched as the implications stacked up— sleeping people, thin perimeter, low visibility.

An ambush.

My gaze slid toward the dark treeline at the edge of camp. The shadows between the trunks looked deeper than they had a minute ago. Closer.

“How much time?” I asked.

The camp member shook their head. “Couple hours. Could be less.”

I swallowed.

Somewhere behind me, a fire popped. Someone laughed too loud. Life went on, ignorant and fragile.

I straightened, exhaustion shoved aside by necessity.

“Get Hale,” I said. “Quietly. Don’t spark panic.”

The camp member nodded and peeled off into the dark.

I stayed where I was for a moment longer, staring toward the woods, my cheek still burning, Lila’s voice echoing in my head, Aubrey’s stare heavy on my back.

So much for tomorrow.

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