"I guess," was the reply that Nicholas could muster, spoken through half-opened lips that didn't want to work.
With a heavy, almost aggravated sigh, he gathered up all of his supplies. This involved stuffing into a bag: the blanket he had left, a spare one, and the water bottles. What little of the bread he'd eaten seemed to weigh heavily on his stomach, making him sick. Very sick. For a moment, he stopped. He worried that maybe he'd contracted something. But he shook his head. There was no way.
He was always worried he'd contracted something. Especially now.
"Yeah, let's go," he said. He started toward the exit in front of Mattie, but made sure to glance behind him to know she was following.