[PurpleBox]

The dark silhouette of the men dragging bodies behind them where imposing as they passed the hiding spot Taka and Aren where in. The men were big and rugged, machetes at their hips in place of guns as their bigger muscles were better suited to use the melee weapon. The heavy rain dampened their ears to the shuffling of living feet in the alley shadows.

“Can’t believe how many boy’s the boss is go’in through….the pile down in the tunnels is getting harder to stomach…. At least most of them don’t grow mold….” one of the men complained as he hauled the body he was dragging a bit more. His companions just grunted in agreement, the bodies were down in the tunnels were the Growth and runner’s went too when they weren't wandering looking for fresh victims… there was a man hole they used to drop the bodies down into the once empty room, it was locked from the inside after they had found it, with a hard lock that would take to long to pick from the outside… if you didn’t want to get eaten that was.

The man that was lagging behind a bit was panting, still new to carrying heavy things like a DEAD BODY. he paused in front of a alley to catch his breath, moving to look down the thing out of curiosity he could have sworn he saw a shadow of movement… picking up the body again he moved quicker to meet up with the other men.

It seemed they were heading in a similar direction close to the hospital, though it was harder to tell with how dark the rain made everything… this could be bad for the ones trying to find medicine.
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Tristan was still huddled in his ratty blanket against the couch, he wanted to climb up and snuggle his brother… but there was no room and the small blond didn’t want to aggravate the would, he did still come out of his little blanket cocoon to change the cool clothes once they got warm from Ian’s head.

He wasn’t able to wake his brother for a meal of warm soup, so with some grunting effort Tristan managed to get his brother in a supported seated position, and did something he had seen his brother do before at the old camp they had lived in before that place had gone to sit. He gently pour a small amount of soup into his brother mouth, head tilted back slightly and rubbed his brothers through, relaxing a bit when he felt the reflexive swallow motion that brought the soup down to his brother stomach.

Ian had done this for their mother the last few weeks of her life… before the camp had gone to hell...back then Ian and Tristan's had one picture of their mother before the outbreak… and she had looked so different on her deathbed… skin and bones from a sickness that even before the outbreak there had been little to no cure for it.

Before she had been a plump, more round women, and Ian’s dad had been a tall muscular man in army fatigues in the picture. Ian had been a scrawny thing with big hair and freckles across his smiling face. It had been the brightest smile Tristan ever remembered seeing on his brother.

Now it was just smiles of sad acceptance…

The little blond flinched again when he heard those heavy boots outside in the hall.

“Where the fuck is that ginger rat! The place was empty! Like he just chose to spend the day somewhere else…. But where the heck is that!” the more greasy voice was clearly angry.

“Shut up, we’re supposed to lay low…. Let’s go… we’ll try again tomorrow.” The other voice said, neither seemed to think that the walls were thin enough for a muffled version of their words to get through… but Tristan heard those words and his hands holding the book Aren had given him was shaking with fear.