Hadley: 11

The next day was much better. I didn't get any sleep, but I was very awake, the cold morning electrifying me. But Oliver's hoodie was doing a good job at keeping me warm, the idea of it more steamy than the actual material.

We left the minivan, packing up and heading north. It was around eight o'clock in the morning, and everyone was moving like zombies. Ha ha. Ben was the most exhausted, but then again, he always looked like he'd pass out at any second.

We walked a mile in the damage the tsunami left, the ground wet. We managed to find a little donuts shop up the road that survived the storm for the most part, and we ate our breakfast there.

We moved at a steady pace, everyone sticking together fairly well. We walked along the side of the road, a stupid instinct even though no cars drove on it. It just felt natural, probably the most normal thing since I saw my friends dead in our school hallway.

I shuddered, pushing the thought away. Oliver, walking next to me, noticed, looking at me warily. Ever since last night, everyone was a little timid around me. And to be honest, I was timid with myself too.

As we walked, we realized that we weren't the only survivors of the storm. Strangers, strewn across the town, wondered around aimlessly, looking delusional. This told us to not approach them, no matter how much we wanted to be comforted by knowing we weren't the only ones alive.

These strangers were also coughing violently, looking deadly sick. This also told us to avoid them, even though I was pretty sure I was already sick. I felt drowsy, my head weightless on my shoulders. Every muscle in my body hurt, like my bones were slowly melting and breaking to make some sort of organ stew.

We stopped to take a break at an intersection. Turn left, we head towards the Woodlands. Turn right, and we'd be close to a water park, nearing Houston at a very slow pace.

There was a bridge over the road, and we rested under it, passing out snacks and water. We were lucky that we were in an area with an abundance of food places, because I felt like we had more than enough to keep us alive.

"So," I said, stifling a cough. "Do we still want to go to Houston, or is the Woodlands a more strategic move?"

"Strategic move towards what?" asked Asher, drawing circles with his finger in the gravel.

I shrugged. "Survi-"

I am cut off by the sharpness in my throat, a loud, violent cough escaping my mouth and burning my throat. I hacked it up, sizzling like fire. Before I continued, I grabbed a bottle and took a swig of water.

"Surviving," I finished, everyone looking at me with wide eyes. "Look, the Woodlands is a lot closer. We'd probably be there in less than two days. And it's a popular area, too. We'd surely find help there."

"Yes," Ben said almost immediately, startling us all. "The Woodlands. Great idea."

Oliver gave him a weird look, shifting uncomfortably. "I say we still go to Houston."

"Yeah, but," I said. "I just have this feeling that we should stay away from cities."

"We live in Texas," Asher pointed out. "It's basically one big city wherever we are."

"True," I said, flipping over the options in my head. I tried to think everything over, but the more I thought about it, the dizzier I got.

"Are you alright?" Kyle asked, moving closer to me.

I nod, pushing him away. "I just...I need to lie down for a minute."

I lay back against my backpack, my drainage seeming to overcome me. I felt my nose dripping, and I reached up to wipe it away with the sleeve of my "blanket". Only when I pulled the blanket away, I found that I had stained the sleeve red.

"Your nose," Oliver said. "It's bleeding."

"Sinus?" I said, but I wasn't convinced, even to myself.

"Those people, on the streets," Kyle cut in. "They looked really sick..."

"So that's the third wave," Asher concluded. "Disease."

It sounded so obvious, but I swear it was the smartest thing I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It made sense, no matter how much I refused to believe it.

I shook my head, sitting up. "No, really." I said. "I'm fi-"

I am forced to quit talking again by yet another coughing fit, except this one hurt worse. I tensed up, barking like a dog. I go to cover my mouth, and the blanket gets splattered with blood.

"Yep," Asher said. "She's sick."

"Then we go to the Woodlands," said Oliver. "It's closer. There'll be help there."

Amazing how he says that so unquestioningly when only a moment ago he was adamant about going to Houston.

"No, really," I said. "if everyone wants to go to Houston, I can make it to Houston."

Kyle shook his head. "I'm with Oliver on this. You need help."

I roll my eyes, the gesture hurting more than it used to. "Guys, I'm okay. Really."

The wind suddenly picked up, the wind tearing through my clothing and skin and chilling me to the bone. I huddled in on myself to try and shield myself from it, but that's when my eyes caught sight of the paper, drifting through the air.

I reached out and snatched the flier before it could get any further, bringing it up to my face so that I could read it. Printed in a large font across the front, the words REFUGEE CAMP stood out to me. I smiled, waving it at everyone.

"That settles it," I said. "We're going to Houston."