two left.

He sits in the darkness. Makeshift benches around a steel bucket. The ashes still glowing white and orange, but the wood is spent and the warmth no longer stretches to his knees. His fingers dance and twitch inside the pockets of his jacket. Unkempt nails pressing against his palms and sliding across the outside of this thumb. He rocks a little, shifting his neck in twitchy erratic motions as if reacting to the buzz of insects.
Not now. Please. Just sleep.
He glances down and behind him, the bodies are scattered in a group, all resting. He should be as well. It's been a month at least since they stopped keeping a watch at night, and there is little patience for exhaustion. He knows they will not question it. He is the reason they are there. Here. That thought isn't settling. He rises slowly and steps carefully over and between bundles. Walking with practiced motions he perfected in his home as a child. This is not new. Not for him. He steps to place where he should lay, warm arms inviting him to join them. A long glance at soft cheeks and soft lips. Memorizing the curves of eyelids and the lines that were newly formed around her eyes. He is responsible for those. He shakes his head then picks up his pack and rises to his feet, silencing the dangling metal as he slips his arms through the straps. He steps quick this time. A slight twinge of adrenaline moving him with purpose as he traces his path back through the maze. He clears the edge of the group and moves to the road. His pace increases as he steps down through the shell of this city. There is no one. not for miles. the same adrenaline does little to still the madness that kept up this late. he rounds a the corner to an old square. metal table changes sit toppled and rusted on top of overgrown pavers. The wooden poles that were once umbrellas helped to fuel the fire that had warmed him the past few nights. That wood, like most of this place, was ash now. He sits in a chair standing near the broken window of the coffee shop. Placing his bag between his legs he starts to open the front zipper. Abruptly he stops and looks up. holding his breath in his lungs, careful not to shift his body in the rusted chair. listening more then looking, he focuses his senses in each direction. there is nothing. he fumbles through the pocket reaching deep into the opening until he finds a small bottle. he shakes it as he pulls it out, uttering a curse under his breath as the sound confirms what he already knows. He presses open the lid lets three small pulls spill into his hand. just these three and dust.
God Dammit. His head rolls back for a moment.
Fuck.
He rolls two pulls back into the container, secures the lid and slides the bottle back into his bag while palming the third pill.
Do I need this tonight? What if its worse. Fuck that. There inst worse. and if there is, i will deal with it then. He unclips the jug from the side of bag and swallows the pill with a large swig. More then he needs to take the small pill, but the water is sweet against his throat. he hadn't realized how sour he had been until the water washed its way through. one mare pull from his canting and he replaces the lid, clipping it back in place. He reaches into his the side pocket of his bag, removing a hard pack of camels. Stale, speckled with yellow dots from the moisture, and a little crushed, but a real cigarette. with a shaking hand he raises the open pack to his mouth and pulls one of the remaining cigarettes free. his hands fumble with the lighter, taking three swipes to get a flame started, but it lights. placing the pack and lighter in his pocket he again leans his head back in the chair. but now the feeling is very different. Eyes closed, he feels a chill run over his body. quickly the meds do there work and he feels his insides start to unknott. He takes a deep drag and allows the noise, or at least the chaos, to settle.
-Are you going share?
Her voice rouses him from his daze.
she stands bathed in light from the absent moon, some how reflecting a glow that isn't here. His vision seems to work harder to adjust when she is present.
-Bad night?
He does not say anything, but relaxes his posture so that she will approach.
With a slow gesture he goes to pass his cigarette, but she stops him.
-No, light me my own. Gods know I need it.
He smiles slightly at her use of "Gods", but pulls the pack from his pocket and passes one to her.
-Your almost out.
She looks at him with one eyebrow raised as fire light flashes on her face then dies into a round red glow.
-They are getting harder to find.
-How about the pills, are you good on those?
He wants to ask her how she knew, or lie and say he hadn't, but he knows there is no use.
-no. I am down to two.
Her eyes soften for a second, a mix of worry, concern, and compassion. those little lines seem to get alittle deeper. But that only lasts a second and her words betray no note of those emotions.
-we could tell the group to hunt for them. Some are bound to turn up if we focus some time on it.
-no. They are... just a crux. I just wanted to relax before heading to sleep.
This is a lie. Every one present knows that. But there is no point discussing that.
-Besides, we haven't seen a pharmacy with any thing left in it months.
-We should have taken the cache we found in Williamsburg.
-no, we would have been carrying that crap with us for months, I will be fine. I just needed some sleep.
She clearly wants to press, but takes a long drag from her cigarette instead.
When the silence does break she moves in a different direction.
-What was it? Reil?
-Yes. He is close. I can feel it.
They both let those words lie as a shiver consumes their bodies.
-Has it been this cold all night?
the air is again suddenly still and reverberating all at once. they both feel it, the power and the change.
A scream rises from around the building. then a second, and a third.
-The Camp.
-Go.
Throwing his bag to his shoulder and running all at once, he sprints with her, knowing there will be nothing when they arrive.