Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Twelve | Killian

Finally, the time had come when the group was on the move again--or at least, a patrol. It had been way too long since Killian had been able to truly stretch his legs, rather than just hunting in the same woods day after day with little to no payback. When he had been on his own those first few months, everything had been simple. Well, not simple, but he hadn't had to worry about anybody but himself. If he died, then so be it. He would have died just like he'd expected himself to. But with Jasper crashing into his life and him joining the group, he felt like a sitting duck. Restless, waiting at any chance to go out instead of waiting around to be eaten alive. 

Since he hadn't been comfortable with leading the patrol, Jasper was at the front with him. Killian would be giving Jasper directions--Jasper could read maps well, but for whatever reason the other man didn't trust himself, even with military training. Why Jasper wasn't more confident, Killian didn't know. When Killian had expressed his discomfort with the idea of leading everybody on their route, Jasper had taken the lead with the exception that Killian gave instructions.

The patrol traveled in relative silence for the first half hour as they made their way towards the woods, but the moment Killian's feet felt the soft leaf-strewn forest floor beneath them, the chattering began. At first it was just a bundle of random conversations he wasn't paying any attention to. Jasper started chatting as well, to Killian's annoyance. With his friend distracted, it would now be up to him to lead everybody along, which would put him at the center of attention. Already he could feel their eyes boring into the back of his head. 

When he'd memorized the map, Killian tucked it away into his back pocket and continued onwards. The forest around them was brilliant, even in the winter time. The soil was hard-packed and cold in the harsh weather, the tree's were either bare or covered in a mix of red, brown and yellow leaves. Tangles of overgrown brambles lay at the base of the tree trunks, moss clinging onto the high branches. Dry and brittle grass lay here and there, winter flowers poking out of their shaded hiding places. Every once and a while Killian would catch sight of a trail of animal tracks heading down a narrower path, worn away by dozens of animals following after it. At one point, Killian could have sworn he saw the ginger-furred tail of a red fox slinking under a fallen log. If there were animals out, that meant not too many biters should have been around, which would always be a relief. 

"So, how long until we get to where we're going, approximately?" Chris asked.

Snapping out of his relaxed observations, Killian reluctantly gave their route a bit of thought. "Well," He said, "Two days there and two days back, if nothing seriously delays us or we have to divert the path for whatever reason." With another pause he added, "Without our luck, it seems like it might be maybe a week long trip. Maybe longer, maybe shorter." Killian shrugged, "You can't really gauge anything like that anymore." 

Just as he began speaking, annoyance sent a sharp, twisting jab through his stomach. A slow snarl curled at his lips and before Killian could stop himself he added snidely, "Maybe if you paid attention more to your conversation instead of asking how long it's going to take, I could focus on getting us there sooner." Killian didn't regret what he said, but he regretted the way he said it. He admitted that it was hard for him to make friends, but people didn't make it easy either. Jasper was just the one person who'd been too annoying to give up trying to get close to him, and Killian had eventually gotten tired of it and reluctantly gave in. 

The other man snapped in return, "Look man, there's no wonder nobody likes you when you're such an ass." That stung more than Killian cared to admit, but he definitely didn't like the hostile tone in Chris' voice. Any hostile voice put him on edge, but another man's was even worse. A woman being angry? Killian could handle that...most of the time. But another man? That was something Killian wasn't sure he could compete with. He had in the past, and it hadn't ended well for him. 

Relieved when Jasper seemed to notice him bristling up and setting a gentle hand on his shoulder, Killian began to relax--just a little bit. "There's no need to get hostile, either of you." Jasper's voice was sharp, stern and confident. Usually he felt safe around Jasper, but hearing the other man talk like that made Killian's stomach flip-flop uncomfortably and his heart quicken. He swallowed back a hard lump in his throat and forced himself to keep moving, narrowly avoid a patch of poison ivy. He couldn't find his voice to speak again, so he just hoped the others followed his example. 

The woods had become thicker, and Killian could hear Aubrey break the silence with mutters about how thorns tugged at her clothes, or tripping over tree roots. There was no wonder he hadn't caught much when he'd been  hunting along with Aubrey--the woman walked around with the grace of a dying elephant. Although he had the feeling that if he said it out loud, he'd get a slap across the face for sure. The conversation continued on without Killian, leaving him to his thoughts once more--just the way he liked it. Jasper was social, but Killian definitely wasn't the type to indulge multiple people in a conversation at once. He was never an open person, hadn't ever been. Jasper was the only one he'd ever trusted enough--besides Jackson--which didn't say much in the long run. 

Even after the 'Swanston massacre,' Killian had never gotten any time to process everything that happened that very early morning. He'd felt at home with Jackson, like he always had before. Jackson, his cousin, his first friend, the only person he could ever trust. That man had been Killian's rock for so long--sometimes even more of a parent--that he had forgotten just how much this world could change people. There were so many things Killian could have done instead of just running away, maybe things that would have resulted in Jackson staying with him. Maybe the group wouldn't like either of them, but at least he wouldn't feel so...alone. Even with Jasper, the feeling of being unwanted by a whole group of people you also relied on wasn't a pleasant one. Killian had wondered--very often--if he should leave. Several times he'd packed his bag and gotten ready to go, only to stop when he saw Jasper sleeping as he headed towards the door. 

What would Jasper do if Killian ever left? Would the other man come with him, or would he stay behind and wonder where Killian had gone off to? Maybe Jasper would get over it quickly, just like how the group acknowledged Dominick's death but never properly grieved. Maybe he'd make friends with everybody without him there to ruin it all, or would he just sit on the porch steps waiting for him to come back? Imagining that scene broke Killian's heart. But knowing the answer--that Jasper would be better off without him--made his heart hurt even more. Over the time they'd spent together, Killian had almost gotten Jasper killed. Even that day when they barely knew one another, and Killian had selfishly shoved Jasper between him and an oncoming biter. Maybe there was a good reason why nobody else liked him. 

Finally the patrol broke through the edge of the woodlands and into the backroads Killian had pointed out on the map earlier. The road was old, with weeds peeking out from between the cracks, overgrown grass on either side and wildflowers dotting here and there. The sun had risen high into the sky, and the group had found the path to their next adventure. It all seemed too optimistic, until a herd of biters turned their heads to face the rest of the group.