Our day is tedious. Evans doesn't speak to me, unless absolute necessity forces him to mutter terse commands. His stride is longer than mine, so I need to jog to keep up with him. I could say something, ask him to slow down, but I'm still determined to be as unobtrusive as possible. By midmorning, when he finally pauses to drink from his canteen and check his battered map, I am completely exhausted. I half-collapse on the graffiti-covered bench of a bus shelter. The throbbing in my feet promises massive blisters later. I tell myself that feeling pain and exhaustion is a precious, precious gift, but for the moment, perspective is short supply.
"What's going on?" I flinch and look up at the sharp question.
"Nothing." I answer him. "I'm tired. I haven't been out of the stadium in a year." I pause, weighing the cost of complaining just a tiny bit. "You…you walk really fast."
Evans says nothing, just looks at me for a moment. Then he nods and turns back towards the street. "Take five." I feel the knot in my stomach loosen a little at this consideration. I sink gratefully back against the bench. We sit in silence for a while. Evans is restless; he checks his watch, the position of the sun, the map, and the view up and down the street. His fidgeting is making me feel guilty. When my guilt finally grows greater than my urge to rest, I decide we should probably just get going. As I'm about to speak, Evans suddenly swings his gun up. Every line of his body is tense. I follow the line of his gaze. A pack of three Dead have shuffled out of a side street. I feel chills run up my spine-they've appeared so suddenly. They lurch toward us, sniffing the air. "We need to go" Evans mutters out of the side of his mouth. But adrenaline is already coursing through me.
"I had my own directive, remember?" I say. My voice shakes, and Evans snorts. "Bullshit. We're leaving."
In reply, I try to step around him, and he swings around the body of the AK to block me "Stop." He is furious. I step away from him, and ignore the command. I walk towards the Dead, who have stopped in a puzzled cluster in the middle of the street. As I draw closer, I see that there are two males and a female. It's hard to tell what age they were, but at least one of the males is short, maybe an adolescent.
"Hi." I say softly. Behind me I hear Evans curse angrily.
"Yi. Get you ass back here." In the back of my mind, I realize this is the first time he's used my name, and it's to swear at me. I make a shooing motion at him behind my back. The Dead are reacting badly to his aggression. The tallest of them snarls in Evan's direction.