“Matt,” I call from the back of the truck. He makes a hm sound and moves my way but keeps his eyes on the trees where Anna and the girl disappeared. I shake my head, but decide to let him be. Anna hardly ever leaves his sight, and I could tell he wasn’t happy about letting them go. He leans against the side of the overpass and looks over the edge briefly, but his attention quickly returns to the trees.

It’s tempting to tease him. I know he has good reason to worry, but Anna was right that anything nearby probably would’ve come out. With so few vehicles in use anymore, the noise of an engine really sticks out. This stretch of highway is completely deserted though– not even an abandoned car in sight– so I doubt there’s any corpses around.

I twist open the latch for the truck bed and carefully lean the girl’s rifle against the bumper so I can grab our bags. We were going to look around for more supplies on our way out of town today, but that didn’t happen. We do each have some dried foods and water packed in our bags, just in case we get separated. I glance at the black tote the girl mentioned– one of the ones we’d picked up on our way out of town– but I don’t touch it. Instead I call Matt’s name again and hold his bag out. He shifts his grip on the rifle, letting it hang at his side in one hand as he comes close enough to grab his bag, but then he lets it drop to the pavement by his foot.

“They’re fine,” I say, hoping to convince both of us. Matt spares me an unimpressed glare, which I ignore as I pull out Anna’s bag and set it on the ground by the bumper. “It’s quiet,” I continue, “And they’re not screaming.” I shrug, but spare a glance toward the trees too. Why does it take so long for girls to pee?

Matt looks away from me and shifts his weight, swinging the rifle back into a two-handed hold. I glance down at the other rifle, wondering when the girl is going to ask for it back. She hasn’t said a word about it, or about her uncle’s shotgun, or anything really. But she did invite us to leave with her, which I’m grateful for. I just don’t know how to interpret any of it. I get the feeling she doesn’t talk much in general and I haven’t really been able to figure her out.

“Are you more worried about the girl or the dead?” I ask. I can see Matt’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. All our lives people have commented that he’s the quiet one. I know it’s because he’s always watching, always studying people, and I’m curious if he’s picked up on anything that I’ve missed.

“You don’t trust her,” he says after a moment– not even a question. He’s always read me pretty well, too.

“I don’t know her,” I say with a shrug. What I do know, though, is that she seems reckless and impulsive. It’s hard to say when you’ve only known someone for a few hours, though. Maybe that’s normal, or maybe that’s just grief.

I pull out my own backpack and lean it on the bumper, forcing myself to shift away from those thoughts. I sift through the stuff in it, trying to decide how long we could go before searching for more supplies.

At the beginning, it quickly became clear that keeping to ourselves was what was going to keep us alive. People can’t be trusted, not when their lives are on the line. I’ve tried to keep us moving, never staying in one spot for more than a day. We search the lonely houses, the ones that look like their owners left in a hurry. We’ve had some close calls, but mostly we’ve avoided interactions of any kind. Running into people– alive or dead– is what gets you killed.

“Drew?” Matt says hesitantly. I look up at the woods first. I don’t see anything, though, so I look over at Matt. “We’re still…” he trails off, shifting the rifle in his hands while staring down the road. “I thought we’d have left by now,” he finally says, bringing his attention fully back to me.

It’s a good point. Staying in a town last night was a risk, but it was too close to dusk to get any farther away. But I thought the town was abandoned, and we were just going to stay the night and move on after sunrise. Even after our unexpected delay, I hadn’t intended on us sticking around. Help the girl and move on, that was the plan.

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“I know,” I finally reply. I can tell he’s still keeping half his attention on the direction the girls went, but the other half is on me– waiting for an explanation. We had been talking about leaving after the streets cleared, before everything went sideways. I’d pushed for leaving as soon as possible, and Anna had argued that we couldn’t just leave the girl alone, that we owed her because of what happened. Which was what started the whole argument.

“We’re just… heading in the same direction.” I drop my bag on the pavement and lean against the bumper, swiping off my hat to rub the ache at the back of my neck.

“For how long?” Matt asks.

“For now.” I slip my hat back on and survey the road. It truly is deserted here. This exit shows no signs of recent use, and there weren’t even signs for restaurants or attractions nearby.

“Do you think we should leave?” I ask finally. Again he seems surprised I’m asking. Matt’s only a year younger than me and we’ve always been close. But at every turn he and Anna have both looked to me for the next step, and I haven’t really asked for any opinions along the way.

“We’re miles from anything,” he answers finally, seeming to just now register the deserted roads too. When we leave, I would prefer to be somewhere we’d have a better chance of finding supplies, or maybe even another working vehicle. We've avoided vehicles for the noise and inconvenience, but a setup like this truck would be useful. Unfortunately, we haven’t approached any kind of civilization since this morning.

“It’s intentional,” I realize, thinking over the roads we’ve driven so far. There have been a few exits and some back roads, but we keep circling back to the highway. At first I kept looking for a good place to stop– where we could get out and go our separate ways– but there wasn’t anything that looked appealing. The only reason I suggested stopping here was to grab some food from our bags.

I shift my foot, slowly stretching out my leg muscles. I hadn’t thought all that much about it, but all morning Sara must have been steering us around any kind of population center.

“I thought so too,” Matt says with a nod. It’s definitely a smart move– and a mark in her favor– but it leaves us at a big disadvantage. I don’t doubt that we could last a few days in the woods, but not indefinitely. And not without knowing where we are. I haven’t paid enough attention to the exit signs or where we’ve been heading– a major mistake on my part. I know we’ve been driving mostly northwest all morning, but Sara’s the only one who actually knows where we are.

Matt backs up a step, drawing my attention. I follow his line of sight toward the woods, where Anna and Sara are just stepping up onto the road. He huffs a sigh and his posture finally relaxes.

“Unless she says something sooner,” I start, straightening up and stretching my back out, “I think we just part ways at the next town.”

“She hasn’t said anything,” Matt says suspiciously. I nod, noting that we’re on the same page about this. It does seem odd that from the start she hasn’t sent us away, even though she’s had plenty of opportunities.

Then again, I guess we’ve had plenty of opportunities too. Anna wouldn’t have liked it, but we could have left Sara on that sidewalk– good deed done and wash our hands of it. Or when we made that stop before getting on the highway, or even as soon as we got out of that house. She even invited us to leave with her in the truck. I’d been playing with the idea of walking away then, but it was a relief to get away from there quickly and safely. And it’s been easier to just keep putting it off the deduction since then.

“But we don’t know her,” I repeat, “And I doubt she’s very fond of us.” Or probably just me, I think. I told Anna and Matt I don’t regret this morning– insisted it – and it’s true, at least to an extent. Do I wish I hadn’t had to get involved? Absolutely. Do I regret keeping us and the girl alive? No. But is it killing me that her uncle died because of me?

Matt glances at me with a worried look, but then his eyes are on Anna again. She and the girl have paused on their way toward us. Matt checks the road around them, but they just seem to be talking. After another moment they continue toward us.

“And Matt,” I add quietly. I wait until he looks at me. “We don’t get attached.” I nod toward Sara. He looks too– at the way Anna and the girl walk close together, Anna watching her with a look of concern. I think of him asking questions, though, and making introductions earlier.

“That might not be easy,” Matt mumbles, and I can’t help but agree.