canada had been thrown around more and more frequently during their time together. the pair were apprehensive about the idea, as they well should be, but even abilene couldn't deny the growing allure of a stable source of the cure she now relied on. how long would the wexley township stand against time? everything came to an end in this world; they'd seen enough death to accept that. "they got mountains in canada."
he wasn't sure either of them could act proper civilized again. it was one thing to try and fit in here, in the town, but canada would be a different beast. big brother watching their every move. at least in the mountains they could be off on their own. maybe just have to make a trip into the nearest city or town every few weeks.
dallas tips his head in acknowledgement of her choice, steps creaking on the wooden floor as he steps back into the kitchen. it's a mindless task to grab a handful of ice and wrap it in a dish cloth. the kettle starts to whistle as he works and he turns to pull it off the stove. "i got something for you to think about," he calls out from the room, the details of an earlier conversation suddenly remembered. "how the hell have these morons lived this long on cans of beans and fruit cocktail?"
sure, they had a few plants to supplement things. beans. tomatoes. but they didn't fish. didn't hunt. too afraid that somehow they'd catch the infection--as if anyone who'd ever caught their own dinner couldn't tell when an animal was sick or not. while there had been a week or two where dallas and abilene had gone without eating because the only animals they'd managed to catch had appeared ill, there'd never been a question in their ability to recognize the signs. fuckin' yello' bellies.
by the time he returns to her side there's a steaming mug in one hand and a wrap of ice in the other. one offers her the tea while the other places the ice pack against the back of her neck. "i don't know how much game is runnin' around the city but you know sure as hell go 30 miles out you'll find a flock of deer in one direction or another." if they stayed, there sure as hell was enough work to keep them busy helping these idiots learn a thing or two about survival. he doesn't move his hand from the ice pack until her fingers brush hers and she has it secure.
she laughs, just once, a strain against all the discomfort she feels. he's right to say it, the assessment dead on. they had a few crops and animals that were doing alright in this settlement; a recent development if small talk was to be believed. "they read about it." what with their libraries of plant guides, and their degrees of botany. the disdain in her voice scratches more than it normally should, a testament to the illness more than herself.
she relaxes into the ice pack on her neck, a selfish beat going by where she allowed him to hold it here and soak up a bit of the heat that nestled in the curves of her body. her sigh is barely audible, but there nonetheless, the surest sign of appreciation that could be found in the man-made world.
finally, she shifts the mug in her hand, taking the cloth and holding it secure to the very spot he'd placed it. turning over each option they'd come across since crossing the bridge to this place. "we'll need more than that." a flock of deer was more than good to keep a settlement running. but could they manage a winter without hunting, staying in one place and watching supplies dwindle knowing there was nothing more to be done. she couldn't feel helpless, she couldn't lay on the couch and watch others struggle the same.
"they're still trying to make hamburgers and fries." a last grasp at whatever normalcy was supposed to look like. she'd be damned if she knew any more. the ice pack drifts to the side of her neck, dampening the collar of her shirt as she tries to think of a description for this odd place. "hoping we'll say give peace a chance."
