Warning: Nothing but a little cursing, but you all expected that, right?

Chapter 3

It must have been noon when the silence amongst them was shattered. Mark had pulled over at the closest rest stop so they could eat a tense breakfast of cold beans. Levan offered in a whisper to share hers with Campbell so Mark could have the boys' entire can to himself. Campbell politely declined her offer, whispering that he wasn't really that hungry anyway. No one raised their voice. As if speaking in anything above would alert some horrible being.

Mark was utterly stoic through the entire meal, staring blindly into the brown beans as if they were. More than once Campbell found himself staring. Trying to catch his roommate's eye. It was a fruitless effort but he found he couldn't stop. Never before had he felt so…cut off. So alone.

The bite had scabbed over nicely. It had been 32 hours now, almost halfway to the 72 hour mark for the infection to take over. He was trying not to get his hopes up, honestly he was, but with the prospect of being immune now being tossed up in the air it was like a beacon of hope in a stormy sea. At the same time, even though he hasn't felt anything that would indicate he was changing, that didn't mean it wasn't happening.

In a feeble attempt to fill his time (and his mind with something other than worry) he sifted through the atlas book, spending a good hour trying to re-mark a new path while Levan slept in the car. He had moved to sit out on a picnic table to avoid disturbing her. Spreading all his work out before him, Campbell sat. New Orleans was out of the picture. So where did that leave them? Mentally he scanned over the known Evac stations posted.

New Orleans and Atlanta were most certainly overran and going back East would be pointless. Huston must be swamped as well - and Austen? Fort Smith? Grand Junction? Wendover? Where did the infection stop? Did it stop? His ankle throbbed almost imperceptibly, reminding him that he should be panicking.

Pushing up from the bench he shut the atlas book with almost more force than necessary. Fifteen miles from Montgomery, a little more than three-fourths a tank of gas, and potentially infected. Pursing his lips he turned to the car, tossing around the idea of sifting through their things for medical supplies.

In the end he found himself sitting back down next to a crummy box of first aid that had the bare basics.

Nudging around the container he fished out a roll of gauze, some alcohol, cotton swabs, and a few packets of Neosporin. Emerald irises flitted downwards to his ankle confined in his skintight jeans, he gently peeled back the denim. It looked more disgusting than he'd might have anticipated. Festering and swollen red around 38 individual indentations - dark with clotted blood. The inside of his pants leg suffered the brunt of the downpour. They would definitely stain.

Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand he swallowed back a wave of nausea. It didn't look infected, but what would he know? He was in college to become a computer engineer. Not a fucking doctor. Somewhere in the back of his head he noted faintly (and not without a hint of bittersweet irony) that wasn't Darien supposed to be into the medical field?

Not that made any difference now, of course. He found himself unable to stifle a hiss of unfiltered pain as the cool kiss of antiseptic swallowed his burning ankle. Holy shit. It chewed at the ragged edges of each scar, snuffing at the blooming infection that swelled the skin. It pulsed liquid fire through his veins. Sweet Lord.

"Do you need help?" he almost jumped at the sudden voice. Mark. Shakily he turned upwards, green irises meeting those sky blue ones. The brunette was already making his way towards the table Campbell was sitting on. Moving to take the cotton swab and bottle of alcohol from his roommate's surprised grip. With practiced profession he dipped the white material into the foul bile and swiped it across the wound. The redhead flinched at the unnecessary force. Perhaps he deserved that.

"Dude!" But it wasn't like he was going to take it sitting down, of course. Mark didn't even offer him a passing glance as he repeated the action twice more before Campbell instinctively jerked down and grabbed his wrist. In-pained tears pooling in his eyes as he glared. "What the fuck, man!?" The brunette didn't bother screwing the cap back on the bottle before he slammed it down on the table, uprighting himself as it sloshed dangerously.

"You fucking tell me what the hell has been going on with you the past two days," blinking back a few more tears from the sting in his foot Campbell frowned.

"What else do you want to know? I was fucking bitten,"

"You know that's not what I mean," of course he knows what Mark means. He wants to know why he wasn't informed about the bite sooner. As quickly as his roommate's rage bubbled over it snuffed out. Like a paper fire. It burned hard and died fast. The worn expression he now sported, however, wasn't much better than the previous one. Fiery sapphire was but a dull reminiscence of what it was moments ago, "I thought you trusted me."

"Don't you dare pull that card on me, Mark."

"Then why the fuck couldn't you tell me?"

"I was fucking scared, okay?! You don't know what it's like - waiting to die. And what could you have done anyway? Shot me down like a fucking dog?" It was more of a one-sided fight now, his loud voice seemed out of place against his brunettes' placid one. Mark narrowed his eyes at him, pausing as if to gather his thoughts.

"I wouldn't have shot you,"

"Like you didn't shoot Kristine?!" there was an expression of shock painting that tanned face and Campbell knew he overstepped himself. Immediately he pursed his lips, rocking back in his seat to sit upright rather than in Mark's face. For a moment there was silence before the brunette pushed out of his seat, eyes had narrowed once more into thin slits. There was nothing to say - even if he apologized there wouldn't be much good in it. It didn't hurt to try, "Mark, I - " A raised hand silenced him.

The taller boy simply shook his head before turning back to the car where Levan stood, her back leaned against the door as she sipped on a water bottle. Watching them. He knew she had been listening but her expression betrayed nothing. Just a dull deadpan that she fronted every time they knew she was hurt. Their fighting wasn't really helping the situation, but then again, what really would?

They were almost surprised when Levan's soft tone rushed out, quiet but full of authority. Almost exasperated, even. She told them to go away, that she wanted to get undressed to clean herself off and that she was sick of smelling gross. That they could go check out the rest-stop building to see if there was running water just in case, and not to come back until they had. Neither boy complained.

It was suffocating, the silence. It made Campbell want to rush back to the truck and hide. Honestly, if Levan hadn't been the one asking for privacy he probably would have. But it was probably for the best not to test her; no matter how stable she seemed she still just lost her fiancé not a week ago and was now struggling to live in a zombie apocalypse. Suddenly, it seemed, his feet were very interesting for he couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Look Mark, really," might as well try apologizing again - if anything it would ease the guilt coiled in the pit of his stomach. Mark didn't kill her in cold blood, he did it for them. To keep the car and to live. "I'm sorry for what I said back there. Totally not oka - " And then his breath was gone, knocked from his very chest.

His back hit hard on the red brick that was the side of the vending machine building, his head snapping into it from whiplash. In a blink there was a firm warmth pressed against him, pinning him back. Two calloused hands twisted themselves around his own, pushing them above his head as Mark shoved close. So close their breaths mingled in the cooling air.

"Shut the fuck up, Bren," then the anger hit - along with realization that this was his roommate pressed chest-to-chest with him. His ears heated with the knowledge but he shoved such a thought to the back of his head. There were better places and times to get flustered over nothing. Snarling he began to thrash in that strong grip - toned by years of high school football and ultimate Frisbee.

"Dude! I'm just trying to fucking apologize - get your nut out of your ass and just fucking take it! I can't fucking go back in time and stop myself."

"Take it?" The redhead's ears grew yet hotter with embarrassment. There might have been a better way to explain that sentence. They are college boys. Sex jokes are pretty much still the go-to venue of humor.

"You know what I mean," for a moment Mark was silent, he could almost see the cogs in his head turning. Whirring to life. And then he couldn't see anything. Just warmth. Reaction immediately told him to lock up - to stiffen and hold his breath. Like he was expecting an attack. Instinct, however, told him to push closer and lap at the mouth that had sealed itself over his own.

Mark and he had kissed before. Of course it was just at Jessica Crawl's dumb spin-the-bottle party, and they might or might not have been a little intoxicated, but it was still a kiss. And it had absolutely no ground in comparison to this. Campbell never really was one to give sexuality much thought - and in a zombie apocalypse, it was an awful time to begin. Sure, he and Mark had...experimented, back in the dorm. But there was no kissing.

Kissing was for fags.

Which he, of course, wasn't. Who said two straight guys can't touch if they're a little on edge…? Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he's trying to rationalize being shoved into a wall by his ex-roommate and thoroughly ravished. This thought he pushes away almost immediately. Trying to refocus enough to breathe as Mark retreated.

When the brunette pushed away he remained still, back pursed against the rough red brick. It snagged at his stained tee shirt and scuffed his back. Motherfuck. By the time he collected himself enough to be coherent Levan was already calling them back to the car. Mark didn't offer him a passing glance as he turned back to the road. Strolling on as if nothing had just happened. Unconsciously, Campbell found the bridge of his nose wrinkling before he followed suit. Tomorrow was bound to be a long day.

-o-

47 hours.

It was hard to pay much attention to anything. Levan wanted to stay at the rest stop for a few days. He didn't think it was such a swell idea, but after some insistence and a few pointed looks down at his freshly bandaged leg, Campbell got the point. Sucking his lower lip between his teeth he chewed nervously. There wasn't much else to do than sit and wait.

54 hours.

Waiting, he decided, was fucking terrible. 0/10, would not recommend.

60 hours.

It was difficult to receive those nervous glances flitting over to him from the smaller woman. She looked nervous sitting next to him. After a bit of deliberation he stood and walked to the other side of the camp. At least over here they would have more time to whip out a pistol and off him if that bite suddenly decided to kick into overdrive.

70 hours.

He didn't feel any different.

72 hours.

If anything his leg only itched a little bit, across the campsite Mark and Levan snacked on a bag of cheetos and talked in a hushed tone. Glancing up at him every so often. If anything was going to happen, it would now.

74 hours.

He didn't want to hope, but it was creeping through his skin like infection. Hope and for his immune system to keep him running. It had never failed him before - even through a particularly bad spell of pneumonia when he was six.

76 hours.

It sank it's claws deep. Like a disease creeping through his veins, infecting the people around him. It overwhelmed like a damn tsunami and swept the three up. Even Mark, who was pointedly ignoring him, seemed a bit antsy. Two more hours and he'd be in the clear.

78 hours.

-o-

It may have been two days after the incident at the rest stop - including the day and a half it took to argue exactly what the hell they were going to do now. In the end it was mutually agreed that they would drive up towards I-22, from there on they could sort out everything by ear. They were headed, over all, to the West coast. Towards Wendover, Utah, and, if that evac is out of the question, on over to the bay in Cali.

Not exactly the best of all plans, but it was the best they could do in the time span of a near-sleepless twenty-four hours of straight driving. Out of Montgomery up towards Germantown. The last time Campbell bothered to look up from the atlas at hand was when a granola bar was shoved in his face along with a cup of yogurt from the cooler. Levan had insisted that they should crack into the cold food before the ice melted entirely.

Which brought even more dilemmas. Food. Or their lack there of. The redhead found himself chewing at his lower lip at the thought alone, the soothe of 'Iris' lilting from the speakers did little to help his frayed nerves. After their last mishap at Wal-Mart he found himself almost reluctant to stray too far from the Honda. It had almost become a safe haven of sorts.

Forcing his attention back down to the map at hand there were quite a few circles indicating cities right off the highway. The choice of which one they were to go upon, however, was an entirely different dilemma. Byhalia, Olive Branch, Mineral Wells. Languid emerald irises flicked a short glance to the clock. 4:26. Pursing his lips he turned his attention over to Mark.

"Pull off on the next exit," he pointed. Sapphire irises fluttered over to him as if to say he'd heard, and then nothing as Mark went right back to ignoring him. Disheartened, Campbell turned back to his lap. Mark was, if anything, still on uneven ground with him. If because he had lied or...other reasons, he wasn't sure. What he did know, however, was that it was a helluva lot quieter with Mark subdued.

Settling on pursing his lips he sifted uncomfortably before twisting around to look at Levan, who was currently staring out the window. Blankly watching the world outside fly by. Light, almost bleach hued, blonde hair framed her face. Thick lips set in an almost permanent pout. Her dark, hazel eyes pulled themselves away from the windowpane when she realized she was being stared at.

"Hm?" he honestly just wanted to kill the silence. Offering her a fleeting, desperate look he smiled.

"Do you have anything you want from the first gas station we stop at?" in return she gave a sympathetic smile. She knew what he was trying to do. At least she wasn't shooting the attempt into the dirt as Mark appeared to be doing. Which utterly sucked. He inwardly shoved this thought aside, there were better times and places to pout about the brunette's sudden silence.

"Sure, we could do with more Gatorade," when she smiled dimples appeared. Just like Mark's... Goddamn it. Immediately the redhead shook himself - internally of course - mutely reprimanding himself for even allowing the blue eyed man into his thoughts. Again. There were plenty of other things he could be thinking of, "We could all go in and look around." She offered, as if as an afterthought before glancing pointedly at the back of the brunette's head.

Campbell pursed his lips and shrugged. Not honestly putting much hope into the idea. He allowed himself a peeking glance up to said man. He said nothing, the only indication of his conscious being the tan digits drumming to some wordless tune on the steering wheel. Campbell turned back to Levan.

"Yeah," his voice lacked commitment. She offered one more sympathetic glimpse before she turned her attention back to the fleeting scenery as Mark turned off on the ramp down to the small town of Mineral Wells. It would be about fifteen minutes before they decided to pull off into an empty Chevron. It was stifling - how quiet it was. Almost eerie.

Campbell was the first one to grab the revolvers from the glove box, passing one to Mark placidly before handing the other out to Levan. Instead of taking it, however, her dark irises simply widened. Turning her stunned attention up to the red head and back down again before shaking her head almost vigorously.

"I can't shoot," she sounded almost terrified. The man frowned softly before nodding, flicking back on the safety and stuffing it into the back of his jeans. Just in case she changed her mind. Mentally he noted that he'd have to teach her at least the basics... or he would need to get Mark to. The brunette knew more about guns than he did, anyway. Without entertaining the idea further he pushed his way out of the car pausing only to inhale through his nostrils, the air outside wasn't as stale as it was in the Honda.

The glass doors groaned in displeasure when Mark yanked at them, they were unlocked. Nerves gripped at the redhead, in turn he adjusted his grip on the revolver at hand, his gut churning anxiously. If it was because they had left the car or because of instinct, he wasn't sure. All he did know was that he just wanted to get in and get out as soon as humanly possible. He almost physically jumped when Levan spoke up.

"Do you think they have a bathroom here?" Mark glanced over a shoulder to her, apparently startled by the whisper as well. They still weren't entirely sure they were alone. After a pause his husky whisper resonated back.

"Yeah, take Campbell with you to look, I'll check for anything useful over there," he nodded in the opposite direction, towards aisles of packaged foods. Campbell wanted to speak in protest at the blatant order. Instead he settled upon biting his tongue and turning to follow the blonde woman towards the largely printed 'restroom' sign. The last thing they needed right now was to fight over whose pants are bigger.

His finger played on the trigger when they arrived to the door marked 'girls'. Levan cast a glance back at him, silently asking a question that he didn't pick up on.

"Are you going in with me?" He blinked in utter shock. Go in the girls' room? With her? For a moment he stood there, blanching in the silence before it occurred to him that she was asking if he would check the stalls for zombies. Inwardly he smacked himself for even assuming anything otherwise.

"Uh, sure," he murmured lamely, readjusting his grip self consciously before starting forward, nudging the door open with a shoulder. Levan followed like a shadow, he could practically feel her breath. He felt stupid for being so uneasy about coming in the ladie's room. Maybe because even though he was in fucking college, it was still taboo to go into the girls' room... Or the fact that there could be something lurking in said bathroom.

Whichever came first.

Motioning for Levan to stay by the sinks he began his trek to the three stalls, kicking each open in turn before readying himself to shoot. He repeated this twice more before nodding over to the nervous blonde. She offered a half smile before strolling over into the first stall, whispering a quick thanks before telling him he was welcome to wait outside if he wanted. Campbell simply nodded, sauntering over back to the door before pulling it open. Stepping out only to freeze.

It was standing on the other end of the store, in front of a door torn off it's hinges. It wore a tattered, blue employee's jacket stained with gore and sick. It was obviously inhuman. But that didn't make his heart stop like the monster's face. Or at least, what was left of it.

Bulbous tumors bubbled out of it's sickly gray skin. They oozed up from the neck and they all but consumed what used to be a man's face. A long, greasy looking ponytail tied down low swung behind the monster. And the tongue. It lolled out of it's mouth. Grotesque and dangling like a pendulum as the beast rocked from side to side

And the smell. Oh God, the smell was enough to leave a man gagging. The single visible glowing eye wasn't trained on him, though. It was on something else on the other side of the store. Mark. His eyes widened as he realized the monster's intent.

It happened quickly, the thing - whatever the hell it was - coughed a lung wrenching hack before it cocked back. In all of two seconds the tongue sprang to life. Slipping out meter after sickly meter before it ensnared its' victim. Emerald irises watched the scene unravel in utter horror. The slick appendage began to retract, and like some sick fisherman the monster reeled in a terrified looking Mark.

He was at a blank. It was as if the gun in his hand was no longer there. Oh God, oh God. What the hell was he supposed to do?! It didn't occur to him that he was moving till his throat snagged with the overwhelming stench. How close was he to the beast?

Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that he shouldn't be running full out towards the infected, ready to bowl into it and knock it off balance. He should be careful, should be standing back and taking aim at the things' head to pick it off to simply end the entire terrifying escapade. But Mark was too close, a clean shot would be nearly impossible. And the way he kept howling for some sort of help. God, it disabled every proper judgment he might have had.

The tongue must have coiled tighter about the man's neck for Mark was silenced to simple gagging noises. The beast must not have noticed, however, Campbell rushing towards it till the redhead was bowling it into the dirty linoleum floor. His first instinct was to attack, once he found himself on top of whatever the hell this thing was he obeyed. Cocking back his right hand and swinging, the skin beneath his knuckles felt leathery upon contact.

Disgusting. The monster choked out a cough before flailing its' tumor-ridden arms. Groping out to slash its' attacker. He immediately swing again for the beasts' face, the side without the deformation. There was a sickening suction type of noise as the jaw snapped up, biting off its' own tongue. And then there was a deep gasp for air behind him as Mark was offered enough slack to breathe again.

Somewhere in the lucid half of his brain he heard the bathroom door swing open, compiled with a soft, feminine squeal. Footsteps thudded behind him until Levan was at his side, in her hand the gun he'd dropped in his flurry. What returned him to sanity was the loud crack that split the air.

Beneath him the tumorous monster lie still, its' temple oozed crimson from where the bullet had entered. Wide-eyed he turned his gaze upwards to the offender. Dark, chocolaty irises stared back at him, just as wide before she dropped the revolver. Spinning on a heel to rush over to where Mark sat coughing.

"Are you ok?" her tone trembled as she fell to the a knee beside him, shaking digits lifting up to intertwined around him.

Campbell stared at the pair before glancing back to the body he was still straddling. It's sickly cloud of smog lingered even in death, forcing a cough from his lungs. Slowly he pulled himself off the body, bending back down to pluck up the gun. Turning it over twice in his hands before flipping the safety back on and stuffing it back into his jeans.

"'M fine," Mark's tone was shaky, he coughed softly once more before readjusting himself, "Thanks Lev." She looked at him a moment, as if waiting for him to continue. When he said nothing she shook her head.

"It wasn't me who saved you," and with that she stood upright to stride over towards the aisles of plastic wrapped food, almost casually as if she'd been there the entire time. As if absolutely nothing just happened.

Campbell watched in silence, shifting his weight awkwardly as Mark turned his attention to him. The cloud of smoke was slowly clearing enough that he didn't feel the need to cough out a damn lung. Instead he pursed his lips, offering a tight smile only to find that the brunette had already turned away and was pushing up from the ground. Standing to go retrieve his own revolver.

Immediately he frowned, brow creasing. He had just saved this bastard, was this honestly how he was being repaid? Damn, he would settle for even a short 'thanks'. No, this would certainly not fly. Before he realized what he was doing he found himself behind the brunette, grabbing said man by the shoulder to jerk him around to face him.

"Hey asshole, I just saved your life. You can thank me now,"

"Thanks, then," he could have said it with a shrug. This did nothing to placate the turbulent redhead. Campbell wanted to fucking punch the nonchalance right from his ex roommate. Instead, however, he settled on simply growling aloud in displeasure. Almost threateningly.

"What the hell is wrong with you man?" he swallowed back the urge of violence, his strength beginning to dwindle with the dissipating adrenaline rush. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noted that they were being watched this time. Levan not-so-blatantly stared from underneath a fringe of blonde hair as she pretended to read the expiration dates of the packaged goods. Every now and then she would stuff something in the plastic bag she'd lifted from behind the desk.

"Nothing. What made you think I have a problem?" the accusing tone offered a different message. This did nothing to quell Campbell's already flared temper.

"You're acting like a fucking girl," this caught the brunette's attention, Mark jerked around, red in the face, as if he was going to say something. Before he could speak up, however, Levan was at their sides. Two bags at hand, both filled to the brim. She was frowning, her usual empathetic expression was now unimpressed. She looked exhausted.

"I'm ready to go. There are some gas cans we might need later. Go pack them, Mark. Campbell, you take this bag." She ordered, passing him the heavier bag of the two. He blinked twice before he realized she'd simply plopped the object into his arms, spinning on a heel and marching back to the car. A frown marring his features. Casting a glance over to Mark he busied himself with following her, not bothering with another glance back to the brunette who was making his way over to the two red canisters.

-o-

The silence didn't get any less stifling as the day droned to a close, the Goo Goo Dolls had stopped running and Levan pressured them to change the album. It sounded like some sort of Indie band now and Campbell didn't personally recognize the band. Not that he gave the matter much thought, however. He was more focused on trivial matters such as getting to Wendover and motherfucking Mark.

The bastard still wasn't talking to him, but now he had an excuse to be angry right back. Mom used to say that 'two negatives don't make a positive', but dammit she wasn't here right now and his ex roommate was being unreasonable. Ridiculously so. There was absolutely no excuse to act like such a dick for three fucking days. There was a line to be drawn somewhere and this one should have ended at least two days ago.

For a good hour this chewed at his conscious, brewing unpleasantly while he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking his displeasure aloud. God knows he wanted to. It was probably for the best if he waited at least until Lev was asleep. Suddenly reminded of her he tossed a glance over his shoulder.

Said woman's drowsy hazel eyes were glued to her feet as she relaxed back against the frame of the car. Behind her sat one of the pillows they had packed, the one she had claimed as her own. It must have been woman's intuition because it took her only a moment to realize she was being watched. Jerking her attention from her sock-clad feet up to the redhead. Offering a short smile or recognition before she settled back into her makeshift bed.

"Do you want a pillow, too?" at least it seemed like she was in a better mood. Levan fortunately wasn't really one to hold grudges. Or maybe she just had other things on her mind . Things that were more important than he and Mark's petty fighting. The latter seemed like a more feasible answer.

"No thanks," he shook his head slightly, giving a curt, unconvincing grin before he turned back around to the dash. A collection of clutter had blossomed in the past week. Gaggles of empty monster cans and little brochures from various rest stops they'd collected - for the maps in them of the smaller towns - littered what was once a pristine car. The back wasn't much better off.

Stray articles of clothing from previous changes lie on the ground while in a few tied off bags sat their trash awaiting to be thrown out at the next stop. Wrappers and other odd items collected in crevices that were once clean, ruffled blankets and sleepwear were rolled behind Mark's seat. It was a disorganized organization. Oxymoronic, true, but it the clutter was more comfortable than anything.

"Alright," it was like a dismissal as Levan sifted for a comfy position across the seat buckles, pulling at the sleeping bag she'd unzipped into a blanket. It was far too big and pooled out across her thin frame down the seat and over the edge into the puddle of dirty clothes. They'd need to find somewhere to wash them sometime sooner or later, but he could worry about clean clothes later. Right now he had more important things to focus on.

Like Mark.

He turned up to the source of his problems, frowning deeply. Said brunette passed him a glance before realizing his mistake and turning immediately back to the road. What? His frown smoothed fractionally. Mark didn't really seem all that hostile - more exhausted than anything.

"What the hell has been your problem the past two days?" his tone was more somber than anything. Where had all that anger gone from just moments ago? Pleading emerald irises sought out sapphire ones. His ex-roommate pointedly avoided his gaze, keeping his eyes glued to the road. He made the mistake, however, of glancing back over to Campbell. Their attentions caught and it was like a floodgate was broken.

"You honestly thought I could just kill you and be done with it back in Albany?" his tone was softly accusing, more quiet than anything. Campbell blinked, frowning once more.

"You're mad about that?" it seemed almost ridiculous. Mark cast him a more confident, silencing glare before turning back to the road. It was growing to be pretty dark, the dash read 9:26. Campbell tore his attention from the front back to Levan a moment, her chest rose and fell slowly with sleep. With more confidence he turned back to Mark. At least their conversation would be private.

"Not really. I've been more mad at myself," that is most certainly not the vibe he's been getting personally. Nonetheless, Campbell settled on simply nodding. As if in silent encouragement before he realized the brunette's attention had flicked from him up to the rearview mirror. To Levan.

"She's asleep," he confirmed. Mark licked his lips briefly, as if he was gathering himself, before nodding as well. Allowing those dark sapphire irises to flutter back up to the road before them. It was silent for a moment as his counterpart seemed to collect his thoughts. It lasted for a good five minutes before Mark spoke.

"For a while I told myself I could do it, you know, kill you," he paused, once again he was struggling for words, "but the more I thought about it the more…frustrated I got." Campbell listened in utter silence. Chewing at the inside of his cheek the redhead pursed his lips. Mark was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Drumming his fingers awkwardly against the steering wheel.

"Why?"

"Because I figured out I couldn't do it," Mark frowned deeply, brow creasing in displeasure as his fingers stopped their movement. Settling on the leather of the wheel in an almost placid manner. Campbell slipped his bottom lip between his teeth. Tension building in the gut of his stomach. How do you respond to that? The feeling of something akin to relief brimmed him, but he wasn't sure if that was the right reaction.

"That's why you've been mad?" Mark flashed him a look.

"You could have turned into a fucking zombie! Fuck, you could have tried to kill us in our sleep - what if you tried to kill Lev?" he took a deep breath as if to calm himself before turning back onto the open highway, since they'd left the interstate down to Louisiana the car traffic had dried up considerably. They no longer had to drive on the shoulder to simply get by. Beside him Mark swallowed, "What if you tried to kill Lev and all I could do was just sit there and fucking watch."

He almost wanted to say something but when he parted his lips to speak he found that nothing came forth. The bite had scabbed over nicely, and without the lingering threat of becoming a zombie hanging over him anymore it was easy to forget about it considering everything else going on. It took a moment of gaping before he simply shut his mouth, settling back almost guiltily to listen once more. Mark didn't give him much opportunity to form a coherent sentence as it was anyway, almost immediately the brunette picked back up. Restating all of Campbell's previous worries.

"And then those fucking hitchhikers. God, I killed two people. Sane people," Mark swallowed once again, as if his throat had become painfully dry, "Oh my God, Bren. I...I really don't know what I'm doing anymore."

It was maybe the first time the redhead found himself loving the nickname his friend had given him. It was just too damn weird to be called Campbell by Mark. Which was silly, but all the time he'd been pretending to hate being called his last name it'd become something between he and the brunette. Almost cautiously Campbell reached a hand out, words once more failing him, as he put it on his ex roommate's leg. For a fleeting moment Mark jolted, turning to look at the intrusion of his thoughts before he relaxed. Returning his attention back to the road, seemingly less… edgy.

"You two done kissing and making up?" the feminine voice that sounded from the back made both boys tense, Campbell jerked back his hand so quickly it was as if he'd been touching fire. Eyes wide, said man jerked around to see Levan rolled around to face them. Her wavy hair astray as it fanned across the pillow, her eyes at half lidded with sleep. Inwardly he mourned his luck, of course she'd been awake. There was a moment of almost awkward silence before Mark snorted, laughing aloud for the first time in days.

"Yeah, I think we're good,"

"Good, 'cause I can only deal with so much manperiod in one week," and with that she was settling back into the nest of blankets, her expression betraying the fact that she seemed much less anxious as well. Slowly, almost tentatively, Campbell found himself grinning in honesty for the first time in days. Twisting back around he turned to Mark for the umpteenth time.

"So, are we stopping somewhere tonight?" he asked, happy to change the subject. Mark just shrugged.

"I'unno. I still have about half an hour left in me if you wanted to pick out a place to stop," it was Campbell's turn to shrug as he moved to open the glove box in which they kept the atlas. Skimming through till he found the dog-eared page he'd been scribbling upon. There was a rough idea of the route they wanted to take in deep red ink. In the corner of the page he noted where he must have gotten bored and doodled a few nonsense pictures.

"Where are we?"

"Dunno, I think I saw a sign that said Humansville was 8 miles back there, but I might have read it wrong," Mark wrinkled his nose, "Seriously, who would name a town 'Humansville'?"

"Maybe it's a sign? Only humans can stay in Humansville," Levan sounded from the back.

Campbell rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the map, squinting slightly in the dim light of the dash before reaching back and flicking on the light. Humansville, then came Osceola and then Clinton.

"If we can get past Osceola then there's probably somewhere to stop in Clinton." He offered up a half smile before pursing his lips at Mark's somewhat confused expression.

"Whatever you say, Bren."