Soon enough, Isaac and I discover that we have no idea where the 3-to-4 route even is. Finding the old highway was easy enough; all roads eventually lead to it. But once we are on the six lane road, we can't decide which way to go. On our left is Chattanooga, its abandoned skyscrapers casting shadows over us. On our right is a huge mountain, the road disappearing upwards into the tree line.

"Jane said something about 127, which is a highway, I think," I said, straddling the bike. We had stopped, inspecting the way the roads were empty. I had half expected to see cars crowding the once popular streets.

Our virus was a slow one, though. People knew it was coming; they hid at home.

"Well, this sign says Highway 127 is this way, leading towards Dunlap," Isaac says, pointing a ways down the road where there's a black and white metal sign. "Maybe we should head that way."

We are both silent as we eye the uphill road. There's barely any that we can actually see. The mountain, though, is daunting.

"Well, let's get started. I don't think we are going to be able to bike up that," I say, getting off the bike. Isaac follows suit, pushing his bike along behind me.

The strangest thing about being outside of the compound is the lack of unnatural noise. Everything here is quiet. I can hear birds, overhead and in the trees around us. The wind around us whistles, unbridled. Isaac's metal chain on his bike clinks in a nice rhythm, the spokes on both of our bicycles synchronizing with it. Our boots seem to thud against the asphalt that's cracked, just like our sidewalks back in 4.

Weeds poke their heads through those cracks. Flowers bloom almost everywhere between the abandoned gas stations and empty open air markets. Different vines have taken over the signs, from the short elaborate sign that reads 'Baylor School' on it to the giant billboards overhead.

That's the second strangest thing about being outside.

Behind me, Isaac isn't even breathing hard as we trudge up the mountain. I'm already panting, focusing on placing each and every foot flat in front of me.

I wasn't cut out for this.

What on Earth was I thinking?

"Jay, did you say something?"

I laugh, remembering when Howard asked me that. I shake my head, listening carefully to the birds and bugs and the gentle sounds of an engine nearby.

Wait.

"No, but I do hear something," I whisper, stopping. I turn my body, looking over the side of the road, over the metal rail that is barely hanging onto the road. It's a compound vehicle.

"Get off the road!" I whisper hurriedly to Isaac, scrambling over the rail. There's not much space to hide in. Isaac hands the bikes over to me, jumping the rail and ducking down beside me. Isaac's gun hits me in the back of the head, and I swear, covering my mouth.

I'm shocked to discover that the truck isn't olive. It's not a search vehicle.

It's Jane's crew, heading home.

The first truck drives past, hitting it's brakes as it's about to round the sharp curve ahead of us. The second slams on its brakes, filling the air with a terrible smell. Isaac looks at me, pointing at the road.

Out in the middle of the road is a folded up piece of paper. Patting myself down, I realize it's my picture. There's no way they saw it. It's so small.

Jane swings herself out of the vehicle, walking over to the picture. She picks it up, unfolding it as a few of the other crew members join her. Emily peeps over Jane's shoulder, standing on her tip toes.

"Think they're nearby?" she asks, hands on her hips.

"Gotta be," Jane replies, "Can you imagine walking up this mountain? It sounds exhausting." She pockets the picture, heading back to her truck. Holding up a finger, she turns back towards where we hide, focusing somewhere near us. "Jaelyn, if you're nearby, you should know that they sent out search trucks about ten minutes ago. They'll find you in no time."

Emily leans out of the back of the truck, grinning before she adds:

"There's lots of room in here," she says, hair falling over her face, "And a tarp, in case we need to hide you. We don't belong to 4; it doesn't matter to us if you run away."

I look at Isaac who is already on the balls of his feet, ready to jump up. The idea of climbing up this mountain isn't too pleasant. It sounds like medieval torture. He glances over at me, rocking back and forth.

I think I can trust Jane.

"Wait," I say, standing up suddenly. Jane turns on her toes quickly, smiling at us. "Can we seriously have a ride?" Isaac stands up slowly beside me, waving at Jane.

"Of course," she says, getting back in her truck, "Trevor, help them with their things." She hands me my picture back, getting back in her truck.

Trevor leaps out from the back on the truck, grabbing my bike and hoisting it over with one hand. When he comes back to get Isaac's, he has the bike on his shoulder, heading towards the truck.

"Good job making it this far," Trevor says, helping me in to the bed, "Didn't think you'd make it this far, to be honest. Didn't know if you'd even do it. I bet Casey 10 dollars you wouldn't."

I find an empty spot on a crate, tossing my backpack down. Isaac sits beside me, propping himself up on my arm as he gets his sketchbook out. Smiling at him seems easier than it was yesterday; it's as if I've known him for years already.

I can see him flinch sometimes when someone makes a loud sound, from sneezing to shutting doors, and he will occasionally tremble in his hands. He refuses to touch the heavy gun on my back, but he plays with my pocket knife as he draws on the hour drive across the mountain. There's no limit to the things he can observe, and I watch him sketch a yellow 'M' sign as we pass it.

Truthfully, he's probably less broken than I am.

The people in the truck don't talk much. Emily sings, reading a book with her feet propped on another crate. Trevor watches the trees go past, chewing on a dehydrated piece of meat. There are two other people in the truck, the boy with messy blonde hair that sat beside me at the campfire and an older man who is balding around the top of his head. They talk to one another occasionally, playing cards together.

Overall, it's a short and smooth ride, listening to the truck rattle over the bumps in the road. It doesn't shake as much as you would expect it to. The crates are labeled 'Fragile', though, so the truck probably has advanced shock system to keep it from ruining the medicine.

I'm almost asleep when the front of the truck dips, and we begin to go downhill. According to my watch, it hasn't even been an hour.

"You've gotta see this," Emily says, sitting up and leaning over the edge of the truck. I put my book back in my bag, moving to kneel beside her. The trees are still thick around us, but the farther we go down, the clearer they are. I can see the light on the other side of them. "Wait for it," Emily continues, tapping the metal frame.

Slowly, the trees thin out enough that I can see over the cliff, down into the valley that stretches below. Not too far across is another mountain, trapping the area below. For miles is nothing but fields and trees, clouds and empty sky. There's no skyscrapers, no billboards, no shopping malls, and, best of all, no walls. It's simply nature, in it's purest form, as far as I can see.

"It's like the virus was never here," I whisper, still taking in the breathtaking view.

"I've heard that it was all like this before the virus. There's a small town over that way," she says, pointing, "But it's small. This area is mostly farms."

As the truck takes sharper turns as it goes down, Emily and I just cling to the side of the truck. I glance back as Isaac who is looking out with his eyes wide, pencil moving all on its own seemingly as he tries to capture it all in his own way.

The ground under us flattens back out, and we are in the valley, surrounded by the fields. The roads here are smoother, not slipping off the side of the mountain. To our right is an old building on a hill, a full cemetery rolling down the hill beside it. There's nothing else for a while, at least nothing that I can tell what it is. We pass a river, rolling under a bridge and a place whose sign has been overcome by ivy. It's still legible, though; I can barely read 'Canoe the Sequatchie'. Must be the name of the river.

Up another hill and down the other side, and the town starts coming into view. Now, I can see the city. The results of abandonment is etched in the way the buildings are falling apart, roofs collapsed, weeds growing up through the concrete parking lots. Jane pulls the truck into an empty parking lot on the left, the vehicle swaying as she slams it into park.

"This is as far as we can take you," she yells from the front. Trevor is already helping Isaac unload the bikes, "We head in the opposite direction from here. You need to go that way." She points towards the rest of town. "Keep following the main road, and the Alma is on the left. You can't miss it."

"The Alma?" I ask, picking up our backpacks.

"The supermarket I was telling you about. If there's anyone here, that's where they'll be."

I nod, tossing Isaac his bag. He puts it on, mounting the bike. I follow suit, walking to stand beside him. Trevor and Emily wave from the back of the truck.

"Oh, and stay away from houses," Jane says, the truck rolling forward, "Infected hide in houses during the day. Wouldn't want you getting yourself killed when we went through all this trouble."

She waves, hitting the gas and taking off. The people in the second truck wave as they drive away, giving us sad smiles.

"Ready?" Isaac asks, walking a few steps.

"Yeah," I mutter, pushing off and leading the way.

Truth is, I'll probably never see Jane again. It makes me a little sad, because unlike most people in charge, she wasn't full of herself or a jerk.

The ride through town is eye opening. Along the sides of the road are little shops, windows full of different things, mostly clothes. There's several restaurants, windows smashed in. We pass two red lights that swing in the wind, their lights long since busted out. The most frequent thing I see, though, are churches. There's a church on just about every corner, their signs giving foreboding commentaries about the virus and the end of the world.

We roll past a car lot that was full of rusting cars, windows gone, taken over by the weeds. Then, another red light.

"Jay, is that it?" Isaac says from behind me. As I turn my head, I notice he's pointing to a large metal building past a gas station. There's only four letters left and a yellow flower looking sign.

Al-Ma.

"Has to be," I say, rolling backwards and then turning towards the building. There's some old cars parked in the lot, lots of shopping carts littering the space. The asphalt here is one piece, stained by oil spots and what looks like gum. As we get closer to the building, there's cigarette butts everywhere. The doors are covered in metal sheets, painted with dripping black spray paint. Isaac drops his bike loudly, walking over to join me.

"What is this place?" he whispers, hands on his hips.

I don't answer because I don't know. I've never seen any building like it. I dismount the bike, taking the time to push out the kickstand, leaning it over gently. One hand on the strap of the gun, I creep towards the door, bracing myself for anything. I can hear Isaac breathing behind me, his boots dragging on the asphalt.

When my hand touches the door handle, it's pushed open. I stumble backwards, falling into Isaac who catches me, holding me up barely by my armpits. Standing in the door is a huge man, a gun on each hip and a sash of ammo across his chest. He's so built that he can't put his arms down at his sides. Instead, they just sort of hang in the air as he scowls down at us, the wrinkles on his forehead like canyons.

Beside him is a dog with foam flowing from it's mouth. It's teeth shine in the sun, black eyes sizing us up.

Isaac begins to walk backwards, carrying me with him, slowly, like he is running from a bear or something.

"Wait," I whisper, clambering to stand up, "It's me."

"I don't know no 'Me'," the man growls, taking a lumbering step towards us.

"Jay- Jaelyn Price, I mean," I stutter, holding my hands out in front of me.

He stops walking, his face softening. The dog beside him barks, making Isaac squeal, which in turn makes me jump.

"Down, Zeus," he says, walking forward another step. This time, I don't move, bracing myself as he towers over me. "You're Jaelyn?"

I nod, feeling myself shaking.

He raises a hand, which is the size of my face.

"We've been waiting for you," he says, deep voice still shaking my core, "Come on in."

Authors Note: The picture on the banner is actually one of the beautiful views you can see as you come down into what is known as the Sequatchie Valley. Courtesy of me! It's a real place, guys, and it is breathtaking.