“Ow! You little bugger!” Jake slapped the mosquito from his arm with several choice curses and nearly broke his leg tripping over debris on the road. A long string of curses filled the air.
“Jake, shut up! You wanna bring ‘em all down on us? We barely escaped the last bunch.”
He forced the anger down deep within, favoring his left leg and trying to ignore the rising itch on his arm. They were right. They were far from the nearest enclave, but that was no guarantee of safety. The dead never tired. They could be found anywhere, at any time. It was best not to find them whenever possible.
Oliver kept his lantern hooded so low they could barely see the road, but Jake didn’t complain. Sound would draw the dead to them, but light would do just as good a job. The nights were painfully dark when the moon was hidden, so even hooded, their light would stand out like a beacon, but they couldn’t move if they couldn’t see.