In the following two days, Morgan had stopped once. It was before his legs got glued to the seat, and before he started fearing the sun. It was at a gas station, abandoned like everything else, but still operational. The power was out but there were some jugs in the store. This was also the moment he found out that perhaps even death could not stop the disease. In the station's toilet there hung a noose, sturdily attached to the ceiling pipes. Yet there was no corpse, only black goo all over the rope and chair underneath, leading to the opened window above the only toilet. Speaking about goo, Morgan found it leaking from his ears whenever the sun shone on him for too lung, making it difficult to ride during the day. Luckily he had grabbed a cap and some patrol sunglasses from the gas station, covering his arms with bandages, the girl was still laying on his jacket. She had now turned into something Morgan had only seen from the news.

"It ain't right.."

Now his legs were glued to the seat, as if the skin had grown into the soft fabric without him even knowing it. Only when he attempted to get up he could feel it resisting.

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"Lord no?"

His wife? His wife?! She was gone, he had checked the trunk after seeing the empty noose. The trunk was empty, black goo and a sharp smell. She was brought back, but when did she leave?

"It ain't.."

No matter, Morgan was here and now. Driving through a hilly terrain with rocks and grass. He was here with her, and he was very thirsty. For some reason he needed more and more water to think straight, it not only kept his mouth fresh, but his mind as well. Luckily there was enough water from the gas station. Apparently he took that as well, what a funny coincidence.

"Lord.."

She drank a lot of it as well, must be the cones that demanded enough fuel to grow. He could feel them poking in the joints of his knees, soon they would come out. Morgan needed to get a grip, he was so fucking close, two more days.

"I will sail.."

The nineth lie, for he would walk.