Bryan watched the three of them return, noting the blankets in their arms. At least between Tracy's connections getting them a tent and these blankets, they wouldn't freeze tonight.
But as his gaze swept over Wilfred's face, his brow furrowed involuntarily. Something was off. The man looked haggard—dark circles under his eyes, his whole bearing drained of energy. Maybe it was just the lighting, but he seemed worse than yesterday.
"Wilfred, you don't look so good. Everything okay?"
Wilfred had seen Bryan approaching and had already prepared his response. Hearing the question, his heart skipped, and he instinctively pressed his hand against his wrist. His voice came out deliberately casual: "I'm fine. Just tired. A lot happened today."
"Really?"
Bryan studied him a moment longer. Something felt wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint it.
Still, the man didn't seem to be in any immediate distress. Bryan told himself he was probably overthinking it. He let the subject drop, finished his bread, and returned to his book.
Relieved that Bryan's attention had shifted, Wilfred exhaled slowly. He touched his own face, wondering: Is it already that obvious?
"Dad, if you're tired, you should rest." Anna had overheard Bryan's comment and turned to look at her father. His complexion really was concerning. She urged him toward the tent.
"I'm not sleepy yet. We're leaving tomorrow—you go ahead. I'll join you soon." Wilfred patted her hand reassuringly, a flicker of anticipation crossing his face at the mention of departure.
They went back and forth a few times before Anna finally gave up and headed inside to sleep.
Watching her go, Wilfred allowed himself a quiet breath of relief. Then his fist clenched, resolve hardening in his eyes.
Nearby, Lucy was wiping herself down with a damp towel she'd found somewhere. She noticed something strange in Wilfred's manner—a quick glance, a hint of concern—but they weren't close. She said nothing and went back to her own business.
As the hours passed, the reception hall grew quiet. Everyone knew tomorrow would bring either salvation or death—either they'd reach the QZ, or they'd die trying.
By nine o'clock, most had retreated to their tents, trying to get as much rest as possible for the final leg of the journey.
"Yawn."
Fatigue finally caught up with Bryan. He closed his book and stood to head inside.
Then he noticed Wilfred still sitting outside. "You're not sleeping?"
Wilfred's eyes flickered with something—relief?—as he saw Bryan preparing to turn in. He cleared his throat. "Go ahead. I've got some things on my mind. I'll sleep soon."
Bryan could tell he was being deflected, but he didn't push. He ducked into the tent and lay down beside Sarah.
As if sensing his presence, Sarah shifted in her sleep, lifting her head slightly before wrapping herself around him in her usual octopus fashion.
Bryan had long since grown accustomed to this. He slid his arm under her head and adjusted his position to give her the most comfortable angle.
From the tent entrance, Wilfred listened to the steady breathing inside. Good—he was finally alone. Exhaustion crashed over him immediately, but he shook his head hard, forcing himself to stay awake.
Can't sleep. Have to stay awake. At least until Anna makes it into the QZ.
He pressed his hand against his wrist again, feeling his body slowly slipping beyond his control. He repeated the words to himself like a mantra.
In the silent reception hall, Wilfred sat alone, fighting a battle no one else could see. If there had been a mirror, he would have noticed the red veins spreading through his eyes.
...
The next morning, Bryan woke to the sounds of activity outside. He opened his eyes and peered out—people were already moving around. A glance at his watch showed 6 AM.
Inside the tent, only Anna, Allen, and Sarah remained. Lucy was already gone, and Wilfred—who hadn't come inside to sleep last night—was presumably up as well.
He carefully extracted himself from Sarah's grip and slipped out quietly. Most survivors were in their tents, finishing whatever food they had left, trying to build up their strength.
He scanned the hall but couldn't find Wilfred or Lucy anywhere. He scratched his head. "Where'd they go?"
Unable to locate them inside and aware that time was short, he gave up the search. Two grown adults weren't going to just vanish. He turned back and thumped the tent. "Time to go! Get up!"
Groans and rustling came from inside as the three sleepers stirred, rubbing their eyes.
Satisfied they were awake, Bryan grabbed his backpack and headed outside.
The temperature difference hit him immediately. He shivered involuntarily. Other survivors were already out, warming up and acclimating to the cold.
He noticed the prisoners from last night were gone. A quick scan of the area revealed no sign of them. He shook his head—with today's departure, they would've been dealt with beforehand.
Their fate was almost certainly death. Letting them go would only endanger other survivors still making their way here.
"Morning, Bryan!"
Lucy appeared from somewhere, wiping sweat from her forehead with a towel as she approached.
Bryan turned. She was wearing only a thin shirt, her short hair damp with perspiration. She'd clearly been exercising.
He raised an eyebrow at her bare arms in the frigid air. "Aren't you cold?"
"Heh, I'm used to it. Always been this way." She waved off the concern.
She started to head inside, then paused as if remembering something. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "You should check on Wilfred. Something seems... off with him."
"What do you mean?" Bryan's brow furrowed.
Lucy just shrugged and pointed. Over there, Wilfred was pacing near a tree, swinging his arms and moving back and forth.
"I'll go take a look. When you get inside, tell Sarah and the others to pack up. We'll be leaving soon."
He headed toward Wilfred.
He hadn't understood what Lucy meant at first. But when he saw Wilfred's face clearly, it clicked.
Gaunt. Dark circles like bruises. Bloodshot eyes laced with red veins. Nothing like the man he'd been yesterday.
Bryan stopped in his tracks, staring with growing unease. "What... what happened to you? Did you sleep at all last night?"
"Cough."
Wilfred had spotted Bryan coming from a distance and had prepared his excuse. Noticing the scrutiny, he raised a fist to his mouth, coughed twice, and answered with forced nonchalance: "Couldn't sleep. Stayed up all night."
"We're about to head to Atlanta. You can't keep going like this."
"It's fine." Wilfred waved dismissively, thumping his chest. "It's just one sleepless night. I can handle it. I'll catch up on rest once we're inside the QZ."
Bryan nodded slowly, still studying him. Then his gaze dropped to Wilfred's hands.
Gloves.
"When did you start wearing those?"
Wilfred tensed visibly at the question, but recovered quickly. He let out a small laugh. "Found them somewhere. Seemed a waste not to use them."
His eyes caught something in the distance. Seeing Bryan about to press further, he quickly pointed. "Look—the convoy's here. We should head back and get ready."