We sat at the window the rest of the day and watched them.
That was the whole of the schedule now. Eat something. Watch the road. Eat something else. Two people in a stone building with cold air behind a locked door, running out of ways to fill the hours. The light outside moved slowly from hard white to something softer and longer.
"They're going," Venna said, leaning against the frame. Her shoulder pressed the warm glass. The last of the day's heat still lived in the stone around the window.
The evening had come in while we weren't paying attention and the street lights had woken up along the road, throwing long yellow stripes across the dirt. The shadows of the buildings stretched and thinned. The infected moved through the bands of light like dark cuts in the brightness.
She was right.
