Plague

good with that, Jamal?”
    Jamal was as tense and stiff as a board. He made an affirmative grunt.
    “You down with murder?” Drake pressed, sticking his face right in Jamal’s. “I want to hear it from you.”
    He watched as a curtain dropped behind Jamal’s eyes. Jamal said, “Yeah. Yeah, Drake.”
    “Then let’s go murder some people,” Drake said cheerfully and released Jamal’s face.
    Drake walked half a block and stopped.
    “Not now,” he groaned. He cursed extravagantly, but already he was changing. Metal braces formed on his teeth. His lean body grew flabbier.
    “Brittney’s coming,” Drake snarled. “But I’ll be back, Jamal. Don’t for—”
    Sam, Dekka, and Jack had stopped for a meal a half mile from Hunter’s camp. Some cooked fish that smelled none too fresh, boiled artichokes, and some pigeon jerky.
    They’d thought about just going to sleep, but no one had wanted to. The horror was far too fresh. Sleep would only mean nightmares. And Sam did not want to see Hunter again.
    In the dark they could only make slow progress, but everyone wanted some distance and to get the expedition done. The high spirits were gone. Fear and loathing tracked them in the dark.
    Jack was trailing well behind when Sam and Dekka had started talking, killing time as they walked slowly, cautiously, through waist-high brush. Talking, talking about anything but Hunter’s sad cries.
    It had started with Sam admitting that yes, he had made a play for Taylor but noting that he had been very, very drunk. From there it had gone to his relationship with Astrid, which he did not want to talk about. Any thought of Astrid was laced with pain and loneliness. What he had done to Hunter, what he had seen happening to Hunter, filled him with a powerful longing to be with Astrid. They had been through so much already. How many times had he held her and reassured her everything would be all right? How many times had she kissed him and put her arms around him when she knew he was spiraling down into depression?
    From the start, from the first day, they had been each other’s strength.
    Not that they’d never fought. They were both strong willed and they had fought many times over things large and small. But the fights had always gone somewhere, they’d been worked through and resolved.
    But now this cold distance between them. Something inside Astrid had broken after Mary’s death. That day had killed some part of Astrid and now it was like she didn’t even care enough to fight.
    Sam said some of that to Dekka, talking out of sheer loneliness and need. But it made him uncomfortable, like he was betraying Astrid even talking about her.
    And the truth was, so much of the problem between him and Astrid wasn’t about anything earth-shattering, it was just about sex. And Sam couldn’t really talk about that without sounding more like a jerk than he could stand.
    So he diverted the conversation to Dekka. Which led to talking about Brianna. And Sam found himself quickly trapped in a conversation that was every bit as uncomfortable as talking about Astrid.
    “I know you mean well, Sam,” Dekka was saying.
    “The worst that happens is Brianna says, ‘No way, I’m not gay.’” He glanced back at Jack to make sure he was out of ear-shot.
    Dekka sighed. “You don’t understand, Sam. You think that’s all there is to it, just be honest. But see, right now I have this little, tiny like, like flower of hope, right? It’s not much, but it’s what I am holding on to. I just . . . I can’t have her look at me and laugh. Or make a face and be grossed out. Because then I have nothing.”
    It was the longest speech Sam had ever heard Dekka deliver.
    “Yeah,” he said. “I get that.” He fervently wished he’d never opened his mouth.
    There was a noise in the bushes off to one side. “Is that you, Jack?” Sam called in a loud voice.
    “I’m over here,” Jack said, from the completely opposite direction. “I’m . . . I’m peeing.”
    Sam stopped. He made a gesture to Dekka, indicating she should shield her eyes. Then he launched a fireball into the air, a Sammy sun. The bushes immediately became a green-tinged ghost space.
    Just off the trail a coyote flinched at the light but did not run away. It snarled, bared its teeth, and crouched for a leap.
    Dekka was faster than Sam. The coyote found itself floating a few feet off the ground, unable to kick, unable to leap.
    It was a bizarre sight, the mangy, dirt-yellow