"I'm hungry!"
Elena broke the quiet, her voice weak and strained. She came to a halt in the centre of the area, as she pressed a hand firmly against her stomach. Her expression was one of genuine distress, her brow furrowed with a body pushed to its limit.
"Mentioning this..." Ricky paused, wiping a smear of black blood from his forehead. He turned to face the group, his tone shifting into the authoritative rasp he had adopted as their de facto second-in-command.
Since John's departure, the hierarchy had settled naturally; Luke lacked the ambition to lead, Cissel loathed the administrative headache of it, and Elena was content to follow.
"We don't have food or water," Ricky continued, his eyes scanning their weary faces. "We aren't machines, guys. We can't keep doing this forever, even with our gear and our attributes partially restored. Our bodies are still human, and they're starting to scream for fuel."
