"Well, that was exciting," Emily said suddenly slapping the steering wheel after they'd been riding in silence for fifteen minutes.

Frank was startled out of his near-comatose state.

The green digital read-out on the rearview mirror said they were heading south east. Frank wasn't sure it really mattered but felt vaguely reassured that they were going the right way.

After leaving the conflagrant Fill and Feed, as it was quickly consumed by flames, the three travelers decompressed—letting the adrenaline recede and be replaced by a sludgy torpor. Emily looked enervated but maintained enough focus to keep them on the road. Even Jane was feeling drowsy, though she knew it was just a trick in her slowly decaying brain matter. But after all the loud noises and explosions, she was feeling pretty content lounging across the back seat, idly counting the seconds between telephone poles as they whizzed by outside.

Frank wasn't feeling so good.

The ringing in his ears was finally fading—supplanted with another headache. The flip down mirror in the visor showed him the ugly facts of the situation. His forehead looked like a twisted balloon animal with several bumps and welts creating taut, tightened topography. There was also a cut above his right eyebrow and his left eye was blackened though he couldn't remember how he got that one. Nevertheless, considering the events of the night, his injuries were relatively minor.

Things could have turned out a lot worse.

With all the insane crossfire, he could have easily taken a bullet.

Frank turned in his seat to face Jane. "Hey, you were shot."

"I know." She pulled down the army blanket she'd wrapped herself in and examined the damage—there was a little hole just above her left breast, near the armpit. "I don't think it hit any bone. It just went right through." She put her finger in the hole.

"God, don't do that!" Frank exclaimed, not sure if he should be repulsed or aroused. "Does it hurt?"

"Not at all. It's a little wet though."

Again, Frank battled mixed messages.

"What's that mean?" he asked.

"I don't know. It's not normal blood," she looked at her finger. "Well maybe there's a little blood in there. It looks pinkish."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?"

"I... I really don't know," she admitted.

"Hate to interrupt the examination but where exactly are we going?" Emily asked.

"South," Jane said.

"Okay," Emily replied. "Specificity be damned." Her face was serene. Her eyes floating out over the road but somehow also looking inward. A tiny smile played at the edge of her thin lips.

"Emily?" Frank said and she looked at him as though she thought she was alone in the car. "Are you alright?"

"Fuck yeah," she answered brightly.

"You've been through a lot tonight. Do you want me to drive?"

"I've been through worse," she said and turned back to the road.

"Worse than that?" Frank asked.

"Yes. Fuckin'... yes." Her tone shifted dramatically, draining the life out of the Suburban. "Thanks for killing that fucking monster back there," she added.

Frank nodded at her, not wanting to press too hard. He looked back out the window and watched the deep purple of the sky begin to burn away in the approaching dawn.

He turned back to Emily, who looked drunk but relatively happy.

"Well, thanks anyway... for saving us," he offered.

Emily nodded in response, keeping her eyes on the road.

"Hey, I had something to do with that," Jane piped in.

"Actually, yeah, I was meaning to ask you about that. Where did you get that truck? And more importantly, how did you know where I'd be in the trailer. You know, so you wouldn't... uh... kill me."

"Well, funny story..." Jane began.

"You didn't know," Frank groaned.

"Not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"Well, first off I had to get out of that cage, so I finally convinced the guy standing guard to get close enough to me that I could get the keys..."

"That was Roy," Emily said.

"Roy? The guy who hit me in the face?"

"The same."

"Great, I hope you slaughtered that guy."

"Well, I'd rather not get into the details—I kinda disgusted myself there a bit," Jane admitted.

"Fair enough. He's dead though, right?" Frank said.

"Should be."

"Good."

"Anyway, so I got the keys and his gun and unlocked the cage. Well, someone must have heard the commotion, so I see this flashlight bouncing through the trees. I waited until whoever it was got close enough and I shot at the light. After that first shot, everything went crazy."

"I heard that," Frank said.

"I ran around the front of the gas station and hopped in the first car I saw, just to hide. But when I was down on the floorboards, I saw the keys in the ignition, so I just started it up and hit the gas. I wasn't really thinking too clearly... or looking where I was going. In fact, I pretty much had my eyes closed the whole time. I guess I just got lucky by hitting the trailer."

The facts were coming together in Frank's head. Had he sat there on that filthy bed, folding clothes and debating with himself any longer he would've been flattened—probably a zombie by now, with broken legs, dragging himself along in a futile search for meat that was slower than him.

"At that point the truck stalled and I saw you and uh..."

"Emily," Emily said.

"Right, Emily. I saw you guys on the floor, so I got out."

"So, you weren't really coming to get me or anything. This wasn't some type of well-thought-out rescue mission. In fact, 'you just got lucky by hitting the trailer.'" Frank stared at her for a moment. "You know, if you would have driven that thing through there a minute earlier..."

"Well, I didn't. So... things worked out."

"Yeah!" Frank just sat there nodding with his mouth open in a sarcastic clownish smile. He looked from Jane to Emily, then back to Jane. "Then you broke the whiskey!"

Just then he remembered the cigarettes in his pocket. He retrieved them and lit one hastily, burning his finger on the match.

"What is it with you and driving though houses?" he said, blowing smoke out the window.

"It's not something I normally do,"

"Oh ho, my dear, there is evidence to the contrary. Plenty of goddamn evidence. Or... or, maybe it's just me. Maybe you just like driving cars into houses that I happen to be in. Is that it? Maybe that's it."

"Yeah, that's it," Jane scoffed.

"Are you guys married?" Emily asked.

"Oh god, no," Jane sounded like she'd just had some bad milk.

"No way," Frank agreed. "She... she kidnapped me!"

"Kidnapped?" Emily raised her eyebrows but kept looking at the road.

"I didn't kidnap him—he's just being dramatic."

"Dram... dramatic! There's... if you..." Frank stopped himself. Really, he knew, there was nowhere to go.

The argument couldn't be won.

"You guys sound married," Emily said through a crooked smile.

"We're not," they both said together.

There was more silence then.

After a while, it was decided that they would have to find another town to stop in before too long. They were fine on the gas situation, as the back of the Suburban was filled with gas tanks (kudos to Jed for planning ahead). Even with the low MPG they could make it quite a long way without stopping to refuel.

It was the same situation with the water.

Six full, gallon jugs sloshed and sweated, nudging the gas cans. But there were other issues. Frank, of course, needed booze. And then there was the food situation. They had none.

Eventually, Emily and Frank would need something in their stomachs if they wanted to keep going. This posed a bit of a problem seeing as any non-perishable food item in the continental United States had most likely been hoarded. It wasn't often one would find anything left over at a supermarket or 7-11 that wouldn't poison you in a matter of seconds.

This meant they had to break into houses, potentially fight off zombies, and hope there was something salvageable in the pantry. It took more time and was more complicated than the smash-and-grab, but they had no other choice.

There was also Jane's problem.

The cooler with Jane's half-bag of blood was still in the back of the 4 Runner parked next to the torched Fill and Feed and on the off chance they'd missed anyone with their blind shooting, they decided it was the wiser choice to not go back.

So, not only were they going to have to hit suburbia but find a hospital as well.

Unless... a terrible idea sprang into Frank's mind. Maybe we could just kill Emily and Jane could eat her.

They didn't really know her. They could make it quick and painless.

That, however, might seem a touch ungrateful. She had, after all, contributed greatly to their escape—actually, if it hadn't been for her freeing Frank, her knowledge of weaponry and the fact that she provided the getaway vehicle, they would most certainly be dead.

No.

No, they couldn't kill and eat her. It just wouldn't be right.

Apart from their sustenance needs, Jane needed some new clothes.

Frank suggested that perhaps the hippie thing just wasn't meant to be. Jane again insisted they weren't hippie clothes—just baggy.

The argument went on for some time.

Finally, when Emily made another "married" comment, the subject was changed. When it came down to it, they all needed some new clothes—soon—before the close confines of the Suburban would get too pungent to tolerate.