“Mommy, I'm hungry,” Wendy whined beside Ethan. He spied her fingers tugging on their mother's hand as if trying to draw her focus. But their mother stared forward, eyes locked not on the road but something beyond it.

They’d all walked for hours down the highway in relative quiet. Ethan found himself checking the sides of the roadway. Looking for movement past the rows of broken cars they wove between, listening for any sound that didn’t come from them. Being out in the open made his skin crawl, but there was some relief in the sun’s warmth scaring off the chill from the wind.

“We can’t stop to eat so stop talking about it,” Ethan said sharper than he had meant to. Exhausted from lack of sleep and the urged pace, he missed being able to sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, horrible images flashed as reminders of their time in the wilds. More recently of that night on the beach. Though whatever nightmares waited for him, Ethan knew it was worse for his mother.

Two days passed since she killed their father. The sickening sound of metal and bone crunching together grew in any settled silence. When the infection first spread and people became monsters, he rarely slept. His nights were all nightmares of what could happen. Reality was far worse.

“But my tummy hurts...”

The other kids were quiet all the time now and no one asked for coal lit stories. It wasn't that they hadn't experienced death, Ethan figured everyone had lost someone. Maybe they weren’t sleeping, just like him. Maybe they didn’t have the energy to try and be anything other than scared.

Wendy was the only one who didn’t have that harrowed look. She’d seen loads of people die but Ethan wondered if she understood. Maybe she forgot Dad's dead. A tired jealousy grew in his empty belly.

While Wendy called out again, there was no answer from Alice. Their mother looked ahead, vacant eyes fixed on an imagined point, each step nearly dragged. She looked more like those things, but Ethan dashed the thought aside as quickly as it came on him.

“Come on.” Ethan took his sister’s hand and tugged her from their grieving mother.

She'll be eight in a few days. He tried to remember what day it was, but after so long they’d all started to bleed together. Dad said it was important. Don’t forget the good things. Make better memories. But Ethan wasn’t sure Wendy could remember the normal things that happened on birthdays. Ice cream cakes, music, and wrapped presents. He didn't want us to forget.

Despite the efforts, their parents paid in making the days special, it was always the worst. Everyone was sad, sometimes the adults would cry a little. The kids pretended to like, or at least Ethan did. After “celebrating” three since the wendigos came, he dreaded their arrival. Every year.

He shook Wendy’s hand and tugged her away from their mother’s side. “Let’s go ask to stop to eat.”

The highway was a wasteland of cars and despite the fall weather, it was warm for October. Where the sun beamed hottest at midday, the pavement waved with heat that lingered into late afternoon.

No one seemed to like walking in the open. As he passed some of their own people, their cautious eyes looked to the roadsides. Just like his did. But with so many, nearly twenty, travelling together they didn’t have much of a choice. The leader, Laurence, had said it was too hard to navigate the ravines and the closer to the city they came, the harder it was to stay off the roads. It was safer on the highway, he promised. “Wendigos don’t come here. They’ve already picked it clean."

Ethan didn’t trust him or the plan.

Tugging his sister along he looked back at his mother walking sluggishly. Like one of those things.

One of the other women, Chandra, took his mother’s arm and talked to her in those quiet moments. His mother’s shoulders shook in silent sobs while Chandra seemed to hold her up.

He turned his back. A dull anger rumbled with his hunger. It hurt. All of us hurt. Why can’t she just stop? Why can’t she-

“Ethan… you're hurting me.” Wendy tried to pull her hand away from where he squeezed it. Tightly. She wore a little frown and immediately he loosened his grip.

“Sorry.” He took a deep breath and tried to smile at her.

Her frown lessened.

They walked towards the hunters, specifically the woman, Tish. She carried a heavy backpack and didn’t leave as much of a gap. She dared to walk just a bit closer than the others. From what little Ethan had seen, she seemed nice enough. Didn’t laugh when one of them stumbled or yelled like Shannon did. Didn’t pick on them. Didn’t glare or scowl from afar.

“Uh, Tish?” he said, hurrying to catch up with her.

“What?” She turned and walked backwards, peering down at Ethan from behind cracked sunglasses.

“My sister's hungry. Do you think we could stop? Just for a few minutes?”

Wendy hid behind him, but they had to keep walking. One of Laurence's rules – no one stops unless they can’t keep going.

Tish looked at him sideways. Then to Wendy. “We all are, kid. But we have to keep tabs on what we’ve got and keep up the pace. Tell her to start chewing on something until we stop.”

Tish turned back around.

Wendy’s hand tightened in his, little fingers itching for him to do more. Ethan stopped walking and tried to think of a way to take her mind off of the rumbles in her gut.

“Keep moving, tourists,” Shannon barked from the right. He walked up and down the line, always keen to call out at stragglers.

Ethan started walking on, glaring at Shannon as he passed.

On the road ahead the green bent sign on Highway 401 indicated the distance to the Toronto city core. The remains of a car turned over with its belly exposed to the sun had crashed into its base and bent the steel posts.

“I thought the city was dangerous?” Wendy said, looking between Ethan and the sign. “Dad said it isn't safe.”

Shannon turned, stared down Ethan and Wendy, before turning back the way they walked. He spat on the ground and kicked a piece of debris from his way.

Ethan guided Wendy a little further away from Shannon. “Yeah, I know what he said but we don't get to choose. Just don't whine about it, okay?”