His pencil scratched against the paper, and he waited. This would be their last night in that town, that house. It was his last chance to sketch his mother, as he'd seen her many times already; staring down at the map on the table, he'd rested in her hand as she hummed. It helped her think.
When she had a plan clear in her head, she'd relay the information to him, ensuring that he knew everything she needed him to do. Still, it was always the same: find food, water, and supplies. Mostly food. It was always food.
"Isaac," she called sharply, getting his attention.
Isaac looked up, the pencil nib stilled on the flat surface. "What?"
"What did I just say?" She questioned, crossing her arms as she leaned back in the chair.
He had to think of something. She'd been talking over her plan for a day or two, long enough that she should have been able to pick something up. All he had to do was recall one piece of information that would have any semblance to what she'd been telling him.
"The cars are dirty."
She stared at him and smiled as a breathy laugh shot out of her because it was true. "Not that."
Isaac was grasping at straws now. "Don't hang around?"
"Don't hang around," she repeated. "If you come across any danger, just leave, run away. I don't want you doing anything stupid when you're out there."
"I won't."
Isaac rarely made any stupid decisions, because stupid decisions normally ended in killing the infected, which Isaac tried to avoid at all costs. He was more than capable of doing it, but he didn't want to. And his mother agreed on that front.
"You're heading West," she repeated, knowing that he hadn't heard what the plan was, despite his excellent suggestions. "I'll go East. It'll take longer to get to anywhere that way, but I'll be able to get through faster than you. You should get back here before me."
"Okay," he had to be back before her, or there would be hell to play.
"You ready?"
Isaac nodded, closed the book, and put it into the messenger bag on the sofa next to him, before grabbing the strap and standing up. The knife he carried was on the table where he'd left it, cleared of blood by his mother.
He walked over and reached for the knife on the table, but she stopped him, grabbing the knife for herself. He looked at her with a questioning stare, but in her other hand, she held out a crowbar instead. "Here, this will be better for you."
Isaac stared at it for a second, and after thinking about it, he agreed. He took the crowbar and pulled the strap of his messenger bag over his head and across his chest.
"Just grab what you can," she continued instructing him as they walked to the door. "I don't care if you have to leave anything behind, because if there is anything left, we're heading that way tomorrow."
"I thought we were going North?"
She had spoken about going North for a while, up past Atlanta to see if there was more nearer to the cities. His mother always acted like she knew what they were looking for, but he knew that she would stop them if they found the right place. It's all she really wanted anymore.
"We are," she nodded. "It'll just take some time, is all."
Isaac stepped outside, taking in the town for what seemed like it'd be the last time. This place had no significant meaning, but he found the scenery pleasant and tried to keep a mental image of the place so he might one day draw it. If he ever got the time.
His mother locked the door behind him, slipping a spare key into his bag before he wandered too far away. She stood behind him for a second, following his gaze, and herself taking in the view for a moment. It was the safest place they'd stopped so far and would have been almost perfect if it hadn't been completely looted.
When Isaac saw she was ready, he patted down the porch stairs and turned in the direction his mother was sending him. Before he could get too far away, she carefully placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Isaac. Be careful."
Isaac eyed her hand for a second, and then met her eyes. "I will."