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accord, stammering. “I… you…” He stares down hard at his hand. It twitches nervously, a momentary expression of weakness and he rapidly balls it into a fist. “You’ve got a spot on your shirt,” he finally manages.
    Casey looks down at her t-shirt. It’s covered in dirt, blood, and sweat. Once it was a dark pink. Now it’s mostly a light greyish brown, with pit stains and black smudges of who-knows-what all over it. It’s threadbare, just a rag. A far cry from Danny’s nearly clean t-shirt, pale yellow, with a faded graphic splashed across the front. Oh well, pink (or grey) isn’t really her color anyway. She prefers green, a pastel, retro, sea foam green.
    As she observes the mess her shirt is, she smiles. Danny’s cover-up has to be one of the lamest excuses she’s ever heard. EVER. “Really? I don’t see it,” a giggle escapes her lips before she can stop it. It softens the rock façade of the man sitting before her. He looks much younger when he’s not glowering at the world.
    Casey’s mirth is short lived. The herd of creatures below drags on, seemingly endless. She’ll give Danny a pass this time, but if he stares at her like that one more time he’s going to lose an eye. She glares at him.
    Danny reaches into his side pouch and fishes around. Casey watches as he lifts a piece of dried jerky from the bag and thrusts his hand out toward her. It’s not exactly a bouquet of roses, but it’s a fair apology. He keeps his eyes locked on the ground far below, careful not to look at her anymore.
    Casey snags the jerky from his hand. Her stomach screams, insisting that she gobble it,
now
, that she stuff it down her throat without taking the time to chew. Holding her bat between her knees, she snaps the jerky in two. Sure she can’t fight the urges much longer she thrusts the bigger piece at Alex and then finally gives in, tearing off a chunk from what’s left. It’s tough, like leather, the most delicious leather she’s ever tasted and it’s heads-and-tails above a can of dog food. Food of the Gods.
    Alex snuggles up beside her. She feels like hunger is playing tricks on her mind, and it’s so hard to decide if Danny and his crew are the good guys or the bad guys. The blond man watches the creatures below, his leg jigging up and down nervously. He’s definitely temperamental, but he’s not really that bad. He’s young, maybe he thinks he has something to prove. His men don’t seem to like him very much, but they trust him enough to be out here with him, to take orders from him.
    Casey swallows the chunk of jerky. “My name’s Casey, this is Alex.” Danny looks up at her, a dark cloud momentarily passes across his face, a sadness that is shuttered so quickly she wonders if she really saw it. He looks away, down at an old wristwatch. Casey can see from where she sits that the seconds ticking by much too slowly to be an accurate gauge of time.
    The group falls into a pervasive, dragging silence.
     
    ***
     
    The horde of cadavers finally passes and when they’re sure it’s safe, Casey hands Alex down from the tree to Danny’s waiting hands. The boy is light, so light that it worries her. They are starving, she can see the hollows of Alex’s cheeks starting to form and knows she probably looks the same. It’s no wonder Danny feels the need to bring them back to his home base. The jerky and bit of water from his canteen have done little to ease the hunger pangs.
    As she lets go of the boy, Casey’s struck by how similar he looks to Danny. Same blond hair, same blue eyes. It’s not hard to believe that the fragile, emaciated, child could grow up to become the solid, healthy man below her.
    She swings down from the tree without help, managing the descent with her bat in hand. The second her feet hit the ground, Danny shoves Alex toward her. “Hurry up.”
    So much for pleasantries, she thinks.
    Much farther ahead, the brigade pushes through the underbrush like well-seasoned woodsmen.