Chapter 232
The truck creaked as the world turned gray again.
Zara stirred first, her spine a long line of discomfort. Her neck ached fiercely from sleeping upright, and Leo’s weight—warm, limp, and trustingly heavy—was a quiet ache on her chest.
She shifted carefully, not wanting to wake him, but he grumbled in protest anyway, tiny hands clutching at her coat even in sleep.
Outside, dawn broke slow and sullen. The horizon was a bruise of pale orange under thick clouds. A faint ring of mist loomed in the distance, low and motionless like it was waiting to be told what to do.
Winter cracked open the door with a groan. "Still got visibility," he muttered. His voice was thick with sleep, but his eyes were already alert.
Mike groaned from the back bench, shifting stiffly and wincing as he flexed his bruised hand. "Feels like I punched a tank."
"You did. It just had rubber and bolts on it," Richard grumbled, stretching his legs outside the truck with a hiss.
Naomi had Marcus’s arm unwrapped already. She hovered over him, fingers careful, lips thin. "Still no fever," she muttered. "But the skin’s redder than yesterday."
Zara leaned forward, careful not to jostle Leo too much. "Is it spreading?"
"I don’t think so," Naomi said—but her voice faltered. "Yet."
Ima shifted closer as Marcus stirred, his face tight with discomfort. "Feels like fire ants in there," he said, voice hoarse.
"I’ll get more antibiotics," Zara said, reaching for the kit behind her seat.