Ignoring Marshall's words Luke kept walking, not responding. He threw the gas can into the back of the pickup and just kept walking. He felt bad, honestly, for picking a fight over something so stupid but he had to think of something. Marshall was right, all his decisions had been to protect the group and he had been doing a really good job, Luke would never argue with that. True he had also been telling him what to do since they met, but he honestly didn't mind that so much. He had just been looking for an excuse, a reason to get away.

No way Marshall would have just let him walk back to camp on his own with no explanation. He would have asked questions. He would have tried to stop him. It was just easier this way. Luke only made it a short way down the road before he had to stop. Breathing heavily he turned and leant against a tree on the roadside, slipping down to the group as sweat poured down his face. The car with the others hadn't even gone past yet and he struggled for a few moments to rise before abandoning the effort and staying where he'd fell.

He felt bad for hiding the truth, but he'd been scared. He'd been scared about how people would react to him if he told them. Scared that Autumn would have jumped at the chance to spear him or Marshall would have shot him without a second thought. Carefully he reached out and pulled up his pant leg, wincing as he revealed a vicious scratch around his ankle where one of them had grabbed him during their escape from the house. He knew being put down would be better than turning, but he was too afraid of it. 

Already he could feel the infection inside him, a burning throbbing sensation that started at the source and spread quickly over his body. He was going to die. Slowly, painfully and alone unless someone came along and shot him or one of those things got to him first. But it was better this way. At least that's what he kept telling himself.