Morning comes faster than expected. After packing up our things, we head back out onto the road and continue riding along. Isaac doesn't say anything about the night before, and I don't push it. If he wants to talk, he will in his own time. I respect that. His eyes are swollen, though, and tinged with baby pink.

For a long while, we coast up and down hills. The morning air is chilly, biting at my bare hands and turning my ears into ice cubes. The knotted mess which is my hair whips around in a wild funnel around my head. By the time we get to some form of civilization, I'm going to look like I've been through a cyclone. Isaac doesn't look much better. Our clothes are wrinkled; bags hang off our shoulders with careless abandon.

We've just stopped for a break in the parking lot of an old fire department when Isaac looks around suddenly.

"What's wrong?" I ask, putting down the canteen.

"I hear another vehicle," he mumbles, throwing his things back in his bag. I follow suit, and we work together to roll our bikes out of sight behind a parked car.

Isaac and I crouch down, completely out of sight. I crawl over and peek out around the bumper to see the vehicle coming around a corner. To my surprise, it's not another olive search vehicle. The truck noisily making its way towards us is black and white. And it's coming from the other direction— not from Compound 4.

"Jane," Isaac whispers. "They must be heading into 4 to make a delivery."

"Think they have time to give us a ride?"

Isaac shoots me a curious look. "A ride?"

"Can you imagine how much easier this would be if we were inside a vehicle?" I sigh. "My legs are killing me. I don't want to pedal anymore."

Isaac smirks. "I'm tired, too, but is it worth risking one of her crew telling Hartley where we are?"

I look back at the vehicle inching closer. Jane told me about the voices. She knows more than anyone about what might be out there looking for me. She also warned me about Hartley listening in. Jane isn't on his side; she couldn't be.

"I think we can trust her," I finally say. Isaac nods.

"And I trust you. So let's do it."

Before I can change my mind, I run out from behind the vehicle and into the street, waving my arms in the air. The first truck jerks to a stop. A rubbery smell fills the air; a loud screech follows it. A head I don't recognize pokes out of the initial truck, eyebrows creasing in the middle.

"Who are you?" he asks, popping the door open. I take a couple steps back from him. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Jane isn't here.

"I'm sorry. I was— I thought— I made a mistake."

"You're from 4. What are you doing outside The Wall?"

I glance back in Isaac's direction, but he's hidden himself again. Good. If I have to get thrown back in, maybe he can keep going. Maybe he can find something.

"Well, you see..." I search for some valid excuse, but my mind draws a blank.

"I've got to take you—"

"Dylan? What's going on?"

My heart flutters a little. That voice I recognize. A burst of red hair jumps out of the second vehicle. Jane's face lights up.

"Jaelyn Price!" She spreads her arms out, grin just as wide. "You're a long way from home."

I rub the back of my neck nervously. "Yeah, well, I kind of ran away."

"No crap," Jane says with a laugh. "Your president doesn't just let people leave willy-nilly. But why?" She tilts her head sideways, just a little.

"I wanted to see if I could find the people you were talking about. You know, the ones in your story."

She looks around for a minute. "You alone?" I shake my head. "Let me guess. You brought Montez. Come on out, kid!"

Isaac pops out from behind the vehicle like a prairie dog, hands straight up in the air. A goofy grin sits on his face and makes my heart do a little dance. "Jane!" he bellows.

"Isaac!" she mocks, clapping him on the back as he jogs over to us. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I'm happy to see you both, but this really is no place for two teenagers to be running around unsupervised. You know there's zombies out here, right?"

"I'm starting to wonder." Isaac shrugs. "We spent the entire night without seeing a single one."

Jane's brow furrows. "They like hiding in dark corners. Most of what's left huddle together and only come out when they smell food."

"Isn't the entire world one big, dark corner?" I ask, smirking. I expect Jane to laugh but she just stares at us both, deadly serious.

"Be careful. Please. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well... Actually, we were wondering if you could give us a ride. It would make the trip a lot faster and easier."

Jane nods. "Not a problem at all." She twists on her heels and yells at the second truck, "Trevor! Come help these two hitchhikers get their things." Another familiar face exits the vehicle— the boy with midnight black messy hair.

While he helps Isaac get our bikes, Jane makes room for the two of us in the bed. The cover's been rolled back, and most of Jane's original crew sit back there. They're crammed between boxes and half sitting on each other. It doesn't help with Isaac and Trevor manage to shove two bicycles into the mix. Several people groan in protest, but others scoot over more to make room for us.

Trevor offers me a hand getting into the truck. "Good job making it this far," he says as he hoists me up. "Didn't think you had it in you, to be honest. Didn't even think you'd actually run. I bet Casey ten bucks you wouldn't."

"Guess you're out ten dollars," I say with a smirk, squeezing in between Emily— who I only recognize by her elaborate braid— and our bikes. Isaac somehow manages to get in beside me. It's such a tight fit that his left leg has to hang over my right one and his shoulder digs into mine. With some wiggling, he gets out his sketchbook and gets to work.

Watching over his shoulder, I lean slightly on him to get more comfortable. The truck lurches forward, and we all slide around as it does a quick U-turn and heads back the way it came. Everyone falls into a lazy sort of silence, each person doing their own thing. Isaac draws everything he can catch more than a half-second glimpse of— A bright yellow 'M', a giant pumpkin, a deteriorated house, a singular police car. He jumps occasionally when the truck rumbles over something but otherwise doesn't move at all.

Emily hums under her breath as she reads. Her feet rest propped up on a crate opposite. Trevor across from us watches the world go by and chews on a dehydrated piece of meat. The boy with messy blonde hair who sat beside me at the campfire and an older man who's balding sit together close to the cab. They play a card game, leaning close and whispering occasionally.

Overall, it's a short and smooth ride. The truck doesn't rattle as much as one would expect on the neglected asphalt. Maybe the shock system has been upgraded, though, because more than half of the crates are labeled as fragile.

Staring at the trees flit by, my head starts to droop down, and I finally give in and let it rest on Isaac's shoulder. He tenses up for just a second but doesn't push me off. I'm half asleep when the truck tilts downhill.

"Oh, Jay," Emily blurts suddenly. "You've gotta see this." She sits up and crawls across a grunting Trevor to lean her body over the edge of the truck. I rub sleepily at my eyes and follow, mumbling an apology to the boy.

The woods are thick around us, but shards of sun filter through them like yellow knives. As we continue on, the trees get thinner and thinner until I can start to see chunks of the sky through them.

"Wait for it..." Emily whispers, nails tapping the metal frame.

Suddenly, the trees disappear, and a cliff pops into view. The valley beneath us stretches out in front of us like a cat waking up from a nap. Not too far across, another mountain traps the area between them. For miles, there's nothing but fields and trees, clouds and empty skies. There are no skyscrapers, no billboards, no shopping walls, and best of all, no walls. It's simply nature in its 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." She points. "There's a small town over there that way. It's tiny, though. Mostly farms."

The truck takes a sharp turn, and Emily and I cling to the side of the vehicle. I glance behind me at Isaac who is looking out with wide eyes. His pencil moves seemingly on its own as he tries to capture it in his way.

The ground under us flattens back out, and we are in the valley, surrounded by patchwork fields. Here, the roads are smoother, not falling off the mountain in disrepair. To our left stands an old building with a steep roof, a white cross mounted on the top, and a bright red door. A full cemetery rolls down the hill beside it. For a few more minutes, there's nothing distinguishable among the buildings we pass.

We cross a river by way of a bridge and pass a building overcome with ivy. The sign can still be read, though. "Canoe the Sequatchie." That must be the name of the river. I strain my neck to see the rolling waters, imagining myself in a tiny, wooden boat.

We coast up a hill and down the other side, and the town starts coming into view. The results of abandonment are etched in the way buildings fall apart, roofs collapsing and weeds taking over parking lots. Jane pulls the car into a cracked, derelict parking lot to the left, a restaurant with a neon sign reading "Pizza King" in the one remaining window. Green and red ribbons of fabric dangle like fingers over the letters.

"This is as far as we can take you," Jane says as she hangs out the drivers' side window. Trevor hops out and starts to unload our bikes. "We have a strict arrival time at Compound 4. If we're too late, they'll start asking questions. Sadly, the trucks do have surveillance footage, and if needed, they can pull it." She points into town. "Keep heading that way. The main road will take you under two red lights. At the third, the Alma's to your left. You really can't miss it."

"The Alma?" I ask, picking up my backpack.

"That supermarket I told you about. If there's anyone left in this town, that's where they'll be."

I nod and toss Isaac his bag. Half straddling his bike, he catches it clumsily and slides it on. Trevor gives me a solid nod and hops back inside the truck. Emily waves.

"Oh." Jane grips my shoulder. "Stay away from houses."

"Why?" Isaac asks, frowning.

"We run into a lot of Infected when we pass through here at night. It's another reason I think there might be people still living out here." She waggles her eyebrows then continues. "They hide in the houses during the day. I wouldn't want you getting yourself killed after you've made it this far."

Even though her warning is ominous, the smirk lingering on her face is anything but. Goosebumps spread over my arms as she turns and heads back to the truck. Without so much as a goodbye, she slams into the gas. Tires squeal, and riders yell angrily. All that's left after the dust clears is the sound of Jane still laughing as she drives away.

"Ready?"

I glance over at Isaac. "As I'll ever be," I mumble. With a kick, my bike rolls off, and I'm in the lead.

I'll probably never see Jane again. The thought makes me a little sad, because in terms of adults, she's not that bad. She's not full of herself or overly controlling. She isn't a jerk either. Jane genuinely wants to help me, and I'm not sure I can find another person in charge who feels the same way.

Our ride through town is eye-openings. Little shops line the road, windows cluttered with different things— clothes hanging off manikins, a guitar, hair products. There are several restaurants with windows smashed in. We pass under two red lights that rock in the wind, both of which don't have any bulbs left in them. What we see the most of, though, are churches. There's one on just about every corner. Each sign gives a foreboding commentary about the virus and the end of the world.

What shocks me the most, though, is that Jane was right. On the wall of the Public Library, there's a message written in block-ish red letters. The paints runs down in excess.

"Help us, Jaelyn Price."

It makes me shiver every time I see it. Isaac doesn't mention the graffiti, but he does stop once to gape at it, shake his head, and jot something down in his notebook.

Side by side, we roll past a car lot full of old, torn apart vehicles. The third stop light appears.

"Jay, is that it?" I glance behind me at Isaac to see him pointing ahead of us. Ahead, there's a large stone building just past an old gas station. Only four white letters remain on the wall, followed by a yellow flower-like symbol. The brick is two-toned brown, and objects resembling miniature bleachers line the front. A huge parking lot stretches out in front of it. Security cameras glare down at us from the roof. They can't have electricity all the way out here, but for a moment, as we dismount our bikes, it feels like someone's watching us.

The Alma.

"Has to be," I say, turning my bike and walking towards the supermarket.

A couple of cars are still parked in the lot. Shopping carts litter the area. Here, the asphalt is one piece, stained by oil spots and what looks like gum. As we get closer to the building, cigarette butts cover the ground. Metal sheets hang over the doors, painted with black spray paint that ran in rivers down it before it dried.

Isaac drops his bike loudly and joins me in front of the black metal.

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

I don't answer. Mainly because, I don't know. I've never seen a building like this before— at least not that I can remember. I take the time to set my bike upright on its kickstand and edge closer to the door, bracing myself for anything. Isaac follows, breathing heavily, dragging his boots on the asphalt.

Suddenly, and without any warning, the metal swings open. I stumble backwards, falling into Isaac. He catches me by my armpits and holds me there. His fingers dig into my arm.

Standing in the door is a huge man. He takes up the entirety of the empty space because his arms don't rest flat against his side. They bulge out slightly, swinging from massive, broad shoulders. A gun sits on each hip, and two sashes of ammo cross over his chest. He scowls down at us, canyons of wrinkles on his forehead.

Beside him stands a dog with spit flowing from its mouth. White teeth glint at us as it growls; black eyes size us up.

Isaac begins to inch backwards, carrying me with him, like he's running from a bear. The man reaches for the first weapon on his side, an automatic rifle of some kind. I don't really care what it is, but I don't want it firing at me.

"Wait," I blurt, clambering away from Isaac and standing up. "It's me."

"I don't know no 'Me,'" he growls.

"Jay." The words tumble out of my mouth. "Jaelyn Price, I mean."

He takes a lumbering step towards us, glaring down the end of his nose. After a moment, his face softens. The dog beside him barks, Isaac squeals, and I jump.

"Down, Zeus." He takes another step towards us. This time I don't move. "I shoulda known. Of course you're Jaelyn."

I nod numbly. What does that mean? How would he have known who I was?

He plants a hand— which is the size of my face— onto my shoulder, and I swallow hard. "We've been waiting on you. Come on in."