Talker – Chapter Eleven: Expedition
Author's Note: Things heat up. Oo
Tyler didn't sleep much, in response to his now heavy fever and the maddening shifts between freezing cold and blistering heat washing over his body. His eyes would open breifly and he'd catch glimpses of a black sky or sometimes his companions before a bout of dizziness or nasuea would knock him out again. He supposed that he must've been drawing some attention the way the dog continuously moved from its spot and began licking his face. Seeming to sense his stress, Chips settled for lying down next to him, nose pushed into his shirt. Tyler wasn't lucid enough to register the act, his head pulsating and his stomach tossing back and forth as his fingers sifted rigidly through the sand beside him. Nothing existed outside of his pain and discomfort for quite some time.
At last, after hours of frequently disturbed semi-rest, morning came, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes again to the painful blinding sunlight, even when he heard the others shifting from their places. Waking up was becoming a more and more agonizing task each day, sapping away his dying energy. He wondered, this time, if he would even be able to will himself ot move at all. Then he felt paws on his back, and a tongue running sloppily through his hair in a repeated enthusiasm. He jerked, putting a hand up to his head. "Hey-hey, come on, dog…"
"Chips!" Ana's voice came from a few feet away. "Get off of him!"
He felt the claws in his back lift and the jingling of tags fade out. Around him were the low voices and shuffles of the others, speaking about something he didn't catch as they loaded up what little supplies they had. He didn't want to have to try and get up, but the sound of Kenneth cocking the shotgun brought him jolting out of his daze whether or not he meant to. Pushing his palms into the sand, he heaved his body up and tried hesitantly to focus the world before him. His eyes stung when he looked up.
"Sorry. Sorry, I didn't think he would bother you." Ana apologized, seeming to forget her own rule about apologies as she glanced at Chips.
"S'okay." He nodded, sitting up in a sore manner. His muscles all seemed to be tightening at once.
"Well it's time t-…" she paused, peering down at him oddly. "T-Tyler, your…uh, your eyes are bleeding…" she informed, her face momentarily pale.
"My eyes are bleeding?" he straghtened up and touched his face, bringing back droplets of blood from the corners of his eyes.
"It's okay, it's just…um, come on up and wash your face. We're heading out." She leaned her weight onto the opposing foot and studied him carefully.
He cleared his throat, blinking harshly and feeling the uncomfortable burn of dried flakes of blood in his eyes. It took him a moment to gather himself and try to stand, though he had noticable trouble. Ana reached out to help him, but he refused, defiantly getting himself up straight again.
Stumbling down to the edge of the water, Tyler dipped his hands in, vigorously rubbing the sand and blood away from his face with a shudder. The sickness would have to fade eventually, he reassured himself. It always got a little better come midday. Though that didn't change the fact that he felt like a gutted trout at the moment, and he prayed for something to make the feeling leave him. He wanted to throw up and get rid of the gurgling pain in the pit of his stomach, but a fearful paranoia told him not to. He wasn't sure, after all, exactly what he would be bringing up, so instead he settled for taking in some slow breaths and diminishing the urge quickly.
It was then that he caught his reflection in the water. Once the wild rippling settled, he was staring back at a face he no longer remembered having ever existed. Not that it wasn't familiar, not that he did not know it was his, but somehow, along the way, he had become so absorbed within himself that he had completely forgotten he had some kind of outward visage. That he was more than a troubled mind, that he was also a man. But in that water, the creature he was staring at, it was him. Undeniably just Tyler. He didn't even notice the awkward facial hair or the strange feral eyes with which he observed himself, nor did it matter to him that the image was distorted by the water's movement. He was real. This was real. This entire damned world around his head was real, just like that cold reflection. Immediately after the realization, he swiped a hand through the water to destroy the image he saw, purging his mind of the rising emotions. He pushed them down, pushed them away, and pushed himself back onto his feet without another thought to the remorse he didn't have a right to.
He could feel the eyes on him as he re-entered the group, and it made him far more nervous. Now he remembered what they were looking at, and he had quickly become self-conscious.
"…Are you okay?" Ana asked in a hushed tone as he came past her.
He nodded softly and hid his eyes, afraid she may be able to see the hurt in them. "Just tired. Fever's takin' it outta me I guess."
She seemed concerned, but said nothing of it. "Alright." She handed him a sandwich without another word, subconsciously ordering him to eat. He felt a little hungrier, so he did, taking up large mouthfuls as he watched the others make a crude assemble near him.
"We ready?" Kenneth glanced around. "How 'bout it, Tyler?"
He almost choked on his food, but managed to give a muffled 'mm-hm'.
"Well there's a path up this way closest to the beach. It should get us there. Come on, Terry's already half-way gone. Better catch him before we lose him." Kenneth motioned a hand and lifted his gun up, ready and willing to lead the way.
Understandably, the group remained rather quiet as they headed out, Tyler only catching a few mutters between Kenneth and Terry every so often. The trees were suprisingly thick for having come such a short way off the beach, and they all nervously studied their surroundings at a slow pace to ensure nothing hid amongst them. Out here, there were no means of security but slight ammunition and the instinct to run, and they were every bit sure that they would have to make good use of both of them in order to survive. As soon as they left the site of their temporary camp, he could feel the group tense and leap to their guard, all confident, but anxious at the same time. Even the dog kept a tight pace with them, trotting ahead only a few feet before it would turn, hesitate, and wander back to Nicole's side. Tyler himself wanted no part in another skirmish with the same creatures that had infected him, but convinced himself that he was no coward. With each footstep he took, he felt more and more that he could fight if it was needed. It was a good feeling, one that made him feel alive again.
He took quick glances at the members of the group, wondering briefly if any of them had doubts about doing this. He knew that Ana did, naturally. And though he would not admit it for fear of causing further disagreement, he felt rather uneasy about this as well. But what could be expected? They were walking out into an infected island barely armed and weakened, shouldn't fear be his natural response no matter how well-thought-out this was? Perhaps, but the feeling of discomfort remained. Kenneth was more than a master at banishing all emotion from his face, showing utterly no signs of falter in either his expression or his sure stride. Terry was clearly a little bothered by the whole situation, but in truth he was brave, and displayed his determination well. Nicole was half-distraught, but she covered her fear, and seemed to him to be equally set in her way. Ana, however, was nearly as difficult to read as Kenneth. Had he not already known that she protested to this trip, he might've almost guessed that she was completely at ease.
He wondered now how he must've looked to them, but put more thought into the fact that they most likely weren't looking at him. They were all concentrating on the task at hand; focusing on their surroundings and the right way to go. And why aren't you, by the way? He asked himself, pondering as he stared at the sand. (For an arbitrary moment, he suddenly wished that he still had shoes.) Maybe he just supposed that there was nothing he could add to their effort. He wondered what exactly he would do if and when they were attacked. At the moment, quite honestly, he wasn't sure. Maybe he would just freeze up like a deer, that seemed to be his useless specialty whenever in a bad situation. Whatever the case, he didn't know why the group would risk taking him along at all. Ana's words from the previous night echoed back to him— "we'll do our best to protect you."— but he couldn't be sure the rest of the group felt so good about keeping him out of trouble. He already knew that Nicole wasn't too happy about having him around…
…They had been walking for some time now, still in relative silence. The sun had risen higher and the island began to heat up, but the tension among them hadn't lifted. No one had spoken for quite a while, and the others were somewhat shocked when Kenneth stopped short. Immediately the group went on alert, looking at him with expectation. "What is it?" Nicole asked.
"Look here." He waved out his hand, glancing at Ana. "Looks like we're close to somethin'. Tire tracks."
The others looked, and sure enough, there lay a set of tracks through the sand. A few days old at least judging from the way it looked like the wind had eroded them down.
"Well let's go." Kenneth seemed to regret having stopped them at all in the interest of the amount daylight they had, despite that fact that whatever they were looking for couldn't have been too far off.
And it wasn't.