It just had to rain.

Tish heaved the pack up over her shoulder, staring up at the dark clouds. They were bringing night faster and, although rain cover cut down on scent trails and noise, it meant they couldn't keep going. Not with the injured holding up the rear.

But Laurence hadn't made that call yet. For all his bluster and threats he stayed quiet and walked at the front taking turns with Reid to drag Cazalla. Tish and Shannon took their own turns walking a perimeter of their line to push the pace, but it hadn’t done much good.

It felt like the walls of rubble and green were closing in around them, the ceiling of clouds lowering with each passing minute. Her skin itched. She wanted to run.

Instead, Tish gripped her machete tight.

Shannon came up on her left, huffing and swearing to himself. “They're slowing the fuck down.” Frantic eyes peered out from the slicked down strands of his hair that had darkened in the rain.

Tish didn’t need to look to know he was right. The gap between them and the tourists had grown exponentially as soon as the downpour started. It wasn’t easy carrying dead weight soaked all the way through.

“If we keep walking we'll be fine, right?” she said, though it left her halfheartedly.

Nothing seemed to calm Shannon down. Since they've started on the DVP he'd been a ball of nerves, his tension goddamn infections. Sure Tish wouldn’t exactly call him a “friend”, but she knew him enough to know his uncharacteristic bouts of silence bred anxiety.

“I'll take the next round again and keep them moving.” She tried again to placate his nerves.

Shannon shook his head and slid a hand through his damp hair. “No, I got it. Keeps me from thinking about how shitty of an idea this is.” Wearing a cynical smile he threw his hands up in the air. “Might as well make myself fuckin’ useful.”

Tish walked alone for a while, keeping her distance from everyone. She put aside the idea of calming Shannon down, there didn’t seem much point in it. When he gets it in his head to be a bitch there's no changing his mind. At least he hadn't changed all that much since they'd started; consistently pissy was still consistent.

Her mind began to wander as the chill of the rain set in. It had been months since they'd left and she was anxious to get back. A nice bed, warm soup, a real fire with flames, not just embers. The months of living off the barely hot coals for warmth, of eating dried or cold food, no real blankets, just jackets and whatever else they could find, was starting to wear real goddamn thin. The deal had been to go out, bring her back quick, and cash in for safety and reward. A bitter smile tugged her lips. What good is cash out here anyway?

It was dangerous to be too hopeful and at first, she'd approached the situation simply: we won't find her. But then they’d picked up Cazalla’s tracks and it strangely made the months of in the wilds harder to bear. Sleeping in the rain and the taste of tin in everything that touched her lips was no way to live, and the hope that it would end made it that much more bitter.

We had to try. She chewed on her bottom lip and ran a damp hand on her soggy jeans to clear the slick from her skin. Volunteering, as a woman no less, probably wasn’t the smartest move. But waiting for someone else to save her?

Tish exhaled a heavy breath. It'd never happened before.

“It's all your fault!” Tish screamed at her mother and threw the beer in her hand at the wall. Glass shattered and rained down on the chipped countertop and the cracking linoleum floor. “You did nothing, not a fucking thing!” Sixteen and furious, Tish yelled through tears as the blurring world around her.

Pearl kicked the brown glass aside with a snarl. “Tishana Lynn Sparks, don’t you dare come into my house and speak to me like-”

Tish slapped her mother’s face. The sound killed the words in Pearl's throat and she staggered back to the counter. With a shaking hand, Tish rubbed the tears away but more threatened to take their place. Her lips, trembling and salted, curled into a snarl.

“You let it happen. You knew this whole time and didn't do a damn thing.” The words bubbled and spilled and Tish could barely control them as they left her. Years of bottled fear popped like a cork. “You knew. You had to know.”

Her mother said nothing. Tish stared, bore her eyes into Pearl’s as though she could force the recognition from her. Not even an apology but some sort of acknowledgment that it hadn’t been in Tish’s head. That it had all been real.

She wouldn’t get it. Tish knew in her heart she’d never heard her mother dare utter the words. That's why she'd packed a bag and, as her mother swung the frying pan swung and hammered into Tish’s jaw, she knew.

Her mother was dead to her.

On all fours, Tish spit blood from her mouth onto the diamond cutouts stained with age. Rippling slices in the plastic spelled its neglect and abuse. A loose tooth felt like glass in her gums and the sound of metal rang in her ears.

Tish blinked away the dizzying pain at her temple and tried to focus.

“You made me do it, Tishana. You're crazy!” Pearl held the pan between them, the cast iron shaking in her hands. Tish guessed it was the weight of it though, not at all what she’d done.

“You lied about it, about all of it,” her mother screamed, spitting the words. “Henri would never do that.”

Tish stared at the forming red puddle on the floor. This was what she expected. Pain. Tears. Yelling. This she could handle. No one was going to come through that door now and stop it. No one ever had.

No one ever will.

Holding her face, Tish pushed up off the floor while Pearl railed on in denial. “I asked you here to do the right thing, to tell the police the truth but you won't, will you? And it's all lies, Tishana! All of it! He loves me. He wouldn’t. He didn’t.”

Looking at her Pearl’s swelled belly Tish shook her head. With an ache pounding in her skull, she bent and picked up the bag by the kitchen doorway.

“He's going to hurt her too.”

Pearl swung the frying pan again but missed Tish by a foot. “You shut your mouth!”

“He's going to do it to her too, Mamma.”

“You shut your goddamn mouth!” Pearl chucked the pan at the doorway. It bounced off the wall and fell to the floor with a heavy thud. “Get out! Get the fuck out of my house!” Pearl clung to her belly through her oncoming sobs.

With one last look, Tish memorized her mother’s face. The faded scar above her right eye Tish’s father had put there, the cigarette burn on her collar bone Henri has gifted not two weeks before, the full split bottom lip wet with tears and spittle. But most of all, the hate. The knowing hate that boiled in Pearl’s dark brown eyes.

Tish spat the glob of blood and tooth from her mouth. “I hope you both die before he touches her.”

Tish instinctively touched her jaw where the scar ran rugged under her calloused fingers. The memory of its ache was almost fresh and throbbing through her chin.

Abandoning the past, she shuffled the wet pack higher on her shoulder, its weight multiplied in a few soggy minutes.

Laurence eyed her and the tourists from a few dozen paces ahead, his face scrunched hard. She barely noticed that he’d switched with Reid, who now pulled the sled. But the look in Laurence’s eyes, the pace change, and his direction towards her set Tish on edge.

“Why are we slowing down?”Laurence's voice boomed. Everyone looked up from the path ahead of them. They all knew the pace had slowed and their eyes averted Laurence’s quickly. When she glanced to the tourists, they’d closed ranks tightly around the wounded man.

When she turned back, Laurence stood beside her.

“I thought we agreed on a swift pace.” Sometimes, in the way he talked and sauntered up, Laurence reminded her of Henri. It used to bother her more.

“We did, but the rain isn't helping.” Tish glanced around again, her eyes watching the trees. When did I become so comfortable with fear? She knew it was long before the dead swarmed the streets. “And we've never had so many people.”

“None of us were stupid enough to get hurt.” His voice was cold and decided with eyes locked on one figure making its way to them.

“Mrs. Singh,” Laurence mocked.

Even in the drizzle, Chandra’s sigh reached Tish’s ears. That’s not to say she minded the woman, Chandra gave Laurence a run for his money, but she was a bleeding heart.

“I know we're slowing down, but no one can continue in this rain. The boys carrying Eamon are tired.”

Neither of the boys helping had much meat on them to support the weight of a full-grown man, even an underfed one. Tish thought so when they took up the wounded man hours back.

Shannon, on cue, made his way to Tish as Chandra and Laurence started to argue.

Laurence spat. “We had an agreement.”

“It didn't include the weather,” she tossed back with fire to match Laurence’s iced conviction. “None of us can continue through this and you know it. If we're careful, maybe we can make camp.”

He shook his head. “I'm not budging on this, woman.”

Tish’s gut wrenched, her fists clenched, and her lip curled. Chandra seemed to feel the same fury boil and snarled at Laurence with a narrowed glare.

“You will never refer to me as woman again.”

“I'm not playing ‘who's in charge’ with you. I am in charge. I say we keep moving and if you want to stay with him, by all means. Hell, take the kids too while you're at it.” Laurence stared Chandra down as if daring her to argue but there was a slight sway in him. A few weeks back Tish wouldn’t have pegged him as murderous but now? Talks of cannon fodder and hoarding supplies made her gut turn with nerves.

He’d leave the kids out of spite.

It was impossible for her not to play it out. In seconds she was picturing them walking away, kids begging, packs emptied at gunpoint of everything useful. Then wendigos would come and all the horrible things she’d seen them do flooded her thoughts.

Could I just walk away?

Her breath stalled. Pretend it didn’t happen?

Tish could feel the linoleum cracks under her palms. The taste of blood in her mouth.

Her fingers relaxed from the straps of her pack, knuckles aching. In a smooth move, she gripped the machete handle at her hip. Her eyes narrowed on Laurence and she wrestled with a choice.

“I'll carry him,” Shannon said.

Her head snapped up to Shannon as he handed his gun to Laurence who gaped at the volunteer. Chandra too. They just stared as he unloaded his pack off his shoulder.

“I'll help.” Tish released the handle of her machete and unloaded herself.

Shannon nodded, not a smile or emotional flicker in his face. Chandra, however, triumphantly looked to Laurence as though waiting for protest. The man turned, taking only the weapons handed to him, and went back to the sled.

Chandra waived over Ethan and the other kid helping Eamon. They picked up the packs and gear, strapping every last item down.

Tish and Shannon approached Eamon and the ranks around him relaxed.

“I did not peg you for a volunteer,” Tish said to Shannon, and the tense anticipation oozed from her muscles.

“You know you’re too fuckin’ short.” Shannon smirked. “You’ll get tired.”

“I can handle my damn self.”

“Oh, I bet you can.” The words barely passed Shannon’s lips, and when Tish eyed him he was almost smiling.

She stood next to Eamon and slipped his arm over her shoulder. “Just worry about you.”

In under a minute they had the man supported and were moving, the pace faster than the boys but not as fast as she would have liked. Eamon wasn’t light, his leg sometimes dragged, and even if Shannon wasn’t compensating for her height they couldn’t lift the man clear enough to reduce all the drag.

“I know we can't keep going like this,” Chandra said from behind Eamon. Her words whispered just loud enough for the four of them to hear.

“We can’t stop here.” Shannon wasn’t debating.

“Laurence isn’t considering any other options,” Chandra said. “And there are other ways to do this. You both clearly see that.”

“Look, Chandra, I get it.” Tish adjusted Eamon a little higher on her shoulder. “Laurence is acting like an asshole but he’s gotten us this far. He knows what he’s doing.”

Shannon’s eyes darted at her. Didn’t sound all that convincing, I guess.

With a deep breath, Eamon interrupted. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

Tish looked down and away from the wounded man.

“Then keep pace.” Delivered with indelicacy Shannon pulled a bit more of Eamon’s weight off Tish’s shoulders. “I’m not going to fuckin’ lie to you, this place is a death trap. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to cart you the fuck around and I don’t like you. I just want out of here as fast as fuckin’ possible. Fighting with Laurence will only slow us down.”

He didn’t turn to any of them, instead, his eyes narrowed on the path ahead and the trees lining the highway.

Tish exhaled. “Then stop wasting your breath and keep pace.”

Eamon and Chandra grew silent and the sky cracked with thunder that rolled with the bright flash of light.