The kid learned a lot of things quickly, but if there was one thing Morgan would say, it was that she was a lousy fighter. For weeks on end he tried training her, and there didn't seem to be a single hint of improvement in sight. He'd tried almost everything. He'd tried hand to hand, blunt objects, he'd even rationed a few bullets for her to try shooting with, but she had no luck.

Her aim was awful, she staggered when she lunged to strike. If she were to face a real roamer, it was likely she wouldn't make it out alive. But he knew, if she'd made it that far, she had to have some skill; something suppressed way down in the depths of her mind. He didn't think it would all have just gone away.

So, he kept pushing her. With every new place they traveled, he'd find something knew for her to try. He could see how frustrated she was getting. But the frustration didn't seem to make her weak. Morgan wasn't sure if it was right, or if it was healthy, but even when she was close to falling out from under herself, she herself continued to push as well.

"I'm getting better I think." She'd say to him sometimes.

Morgan would not lie to her and tell her she was though. He'd simply say, "You still have a long way to go."

For a moment, she would look slightly discouraged. However, every time, she'd pick herself back up and demand they start training again. Her eyebrows furrowed in determination.

Then one day, on the edge of a river bank, they came across something. It was two bodies, almost ripped to shreds by roamers. They'd probably tried to get to the stream to cross it and get away, but that obviously hadn't worked out for them.

"Morgan, look!" the kid said as she tugged on his sleeve.

It wasn't the bodies that were interesting; bodies were nothing new to him, and they'd certainly lost their novelty on the kid. No, it was the old, dull machete almost slipping into the river that caught her eye.

"What about it?"

"Well, I haven't tried something like that yet."

Morgan shrugged. "That's useless, kid. It sure as hell didn't help them."

It wasn't so much that Morgan didn't think she could handle the machete, but more about the fact that he hadn't tried anything with a blade on it before with her. He didn't really want to accidently falling on something sharp and pointy.

"Pleaase, Morgan!" the kid might not have known what puppy dog eyes were, but she was pretty damn good at them. "We can sharpen it!"

Morgan sighed in defeat as she snatched the machete up. "Alright, alright. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

. . .

As the sun slid behind the horizon, you could definitely say, they were not there. However, even when she asked Morgan if they should stop for the night, he refused. Yes, he'd been possessed by the notion of the safe haven since he met her, but now that they were – or so he said – as close as they were, he wasn't backing down. There weren't a lot of things that scared her, but Morgan refusing to take a moment to even rest, was frightening.

They were on open road, and it was going to get darker, and the roamers were going to get harder and harder to see. The only thing they'd be able to identify them with, was the sounds of their moans echoing, and even then that played tricks on you.

She knew that Morgan was a whole hell of a lot smarter than that. She knew that he knew they should set up camp. If it hadn't gone anywhere in four years, it wasn't going anywhere in the middle of the night.

"Morgan, you said were would be there by now. Can we please stop?" She begged again. She tried to think of something that would make him stop. "My head really hurts."

He pulled out the map to look over it. "We're almost there!"

"What if you're wrong? There's things you've been wrong about before."

"I'm not!" Morgan raised his voice. "Keep moving."

It was not often that Morgan yelled, and she felt herself stiffen. She didn't know how to reason with him. He'd kept her safe, and when she was able, they kept each other safe. This entire time, throughout all their travels, they were trying to find somewhere to be safe. But he didn't seem to have safety in mind anymore.

The light was fading faster and faster with each step that they took and Morgan continued to squint at the map until he all but crumpled it and stuffed it back into his pocket. They were walking blind. She wasn't sure if he knew where he was going and he wouldn't even let her stop to light the lantern.

She wanted to do something, to yell herself. To tell Morgan how stupid and careless he was really being. It wasn't just his life, and it hadn't been for a long time. He knew better.

But all she could do was tighten her grip on her machete until her knuckles were white and open and close her mouth. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't sound desperate or would make sense to him.

She counted.

1…2…3.

Then the moans began to echo.

1…2…3.

The moans were getting louder.

1…2…3.

There was no mistaking the smell and the greater fear that crept upon her, as she felt them walking right into the lion's den. She found her voice. "MORGAN."

"I KNOW I CAN HEAR THEM."

Without any other words they prepared themselves. Morgan grasped his long tall staff he always carried with him, and she pulled out he machete and felt carefully to make sure her gun was hooked to her side still. Standing back to back, she could feel that they were surrounded by roams from every angle. She knew they were outnumbered, but she couldn't begin to guess how many there were.

As the air became more rancid around them, she slashed at the air, praying she'd hit something. Every once and a while she'd hear a distinct nose and be able to take one down completely. She could feel Morgan's heavy breath beside her, slamming his staff into the creature. They'd gotten out of worse. She couldn't think of anything at that moment, but she'd sure they had.

Then, she heard a laugh.

"Do you see it?" Morgan asked.

"I think there's a little more than one." She grumbled as she pulled her machete out of a roamer.

"No, look up."

It was stupid to take her attention off the fight, but for a quick second she let her eyes shift upward and there it was. The unmistakable, bright light of a very large encampment shining over the tress and road. It wasn't more than a few kilometers away. Would they be able to make it? There really was only one way to find out, and the word escaped Morgan's mouth just as she thought it:

"RUN."