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He tosses a branch on the fire. Sparks fly up and up, like fireflies in the dark. He can't remember that last time he saw a firefly. Maybe there aren't any more. Maybe there are no insects at all left. The honeybees were already disappearing before the world ended, no doubt they're completely gone now.
He wonders what it will mean for the crops next year. He's already seen several brave farmers plowing their fields with the last of their fuel, rather than using it to escape. But escape to where? That's the real question. If the surge of dead is any indication, then there's no safe place anywhere. Not on the entire earth, perhaps. It's a depressing thought, one that weighs down his broad shoulders a little more. He doesn't want to believe it, wants to believe there's still a safe place. He shakes his head at his own stupidity. Here and now is what he needs to concentrate on, not what if. That will just get him killed, and he isn't ready to die yet.
"Jeremiah, I'm scared."
It takes him a minute to recognize his own name, to recognize the soft voice of the boy. Zeke.
"Scoot over here by me," Jeremiah says, banishing the pointless thoughts. The boy leans against him, a shivering bunch of sticks. He decides they will scavenge for food at the next town. Cornmeal cakes for breakfast again, but then he needs to find some vegetables. Something with some nutrition for the boy. In the next town.
Jeremiah slips his arm around Zeke and the two huddle beside the fire, waiting for morning.
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