Her steps had been slow and steady, but never stopping. Where they once would have tired, now they carried her for miles without even a hint of ache or fatigue. Where she would have slept, she walked. Where she would have felt fear or immense sorrow at the state of the world and her own mortality, she only felt a primal, insatiable hunger. Any philosophers or poets left alive might have said the walkers, the biters, the lurkers – whatever you called them – only longed for the flesh of the living in an attempt to revitalise their decomposing muscles and brings themselves out of their morbid stupor. As her hair gradually thinned and matted against her taut and peeling skin, as her eyes became nothing more than clouded stones in cavernous sockets, the only thing that drove her were the sounds of guns, or yells or explosions – the things nature couldn't provide. Because in this new world, nature was faster than the, more often than not, dim witted arrogance of man.

As the sheets of rain rallied against her, she just continued to walk on, the cold bite of the wind no longer causing discomfort. And soon, her steps took her out of the forest and up onto the road, where a car sat, quite out of place on the long stretch of nothingness. Her hands pressed against the backseat window and her face followed suit, slight movement towards the front of the car catching her eye, and exciting her movements, so much so that the next time her palms met the glass, it was enough to get one of the men inside to jolt awake. Sleep-fogged eyes, already tired from supporting the weight of dark rings beneath them, now strained to see what it was that had woken him. Had she had any idea of what they'd already been through, her more rational, living self would have left them well alone. But as it stood, she just continued to push her face against the glass, teeth running against the surface in an ever vain attempt to get to the man sleeping soundly on the other side. The temptation didn't last long, however. Soon after that, the car pulled away, leaving her reaching for it and following after it, though within seconds it was obvious she hadn't a hope in hell of catching up to them.

Murphy woke a few minutes after Connor had pulled to a stop. It was apparent neither of them had planned on being awake again so soon, the dark circles staining their under-eye's like bruises, as though exhaustion was beginning to show itself in more ways than dulled reflexes and irritability. He still ached terribly, certain wounds still stinging like they were seconds instead of hours old. A heavy sigh from him told Connor he was awake, and the look they shared was one of frustration, and a desperate need for sleep. A need to get away from the world for a while longer, even if their dreams were either dark and disturbing, or simply went forgotten as soon as they woke up again.

"Thought you were down for the night..?"

"So did I" said Connor, leaning his elbow into the corner of the window, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up more, fingers wearily drumming against the steering wheel. "Walkers were startin' to get ideas. Should'a found somewhere to stay before crashin'"

"Yeah, and y'look like shite now – but you looked worse earlier."

Shifting in his seat as much as he could before the discomfort got too much, Murphy leaned to the side and looked out of the window at the black abyss of sky, clouds still unleashing rain in torrents.

"How long were you drivin' in this..?"

"Long enough."

Neither of them said anything after that. Instead, Murphy just watched Connor as he found his torch and clicked it on, securing it between his teeth as he turned in his seat. Any other spare clothes he could find were pulled out of their bags, and precariously hung in front of the windows and the windshield. The back ones proved to be more of a challenge, but after some hissed cursing and fumbling around, he was back in the driver's seat. Murphy flicked his eyes over the cars modifications, smirking a little with widening eyes.

"Look at that…you've only gone and made us a fort"

Despite his best attempt to look sullen and serious, Connor couldn't keep back a tired snort at the memory of their friend's comments.

"Aye, well…not just that. It's a fort on fuckin' wheels."

"All we need's a couple of sticks, some more blankets….maybe some of your stupid fuckin' rope-"

"Don't start on the rope, it was fuckin' useful and you fuckin' know it."

Grabbing the torch before Murphy could, Connor spun it in his hand and shone it directly in his brother's face before killing the light.

"Now go the fuck to sleep."

Murphy couldn't have said if they had any more visits from walkers in the night. He'd fallen asleep so quickly and he'd slept so deeply, that anything could have happened and he probably wouldn't have known. However, when he woke up with a horrifically stiff neck and fresh patches of red spilled across his chest, he didn't feel refreshed or well rested. Anything but. Pushing his fingertips firmly into the side of his neck, he quickly came to realize Connor was missing. Not only that, but the storm had finally come to an end, the light streaming between the gaps in the hanging shirts at the windows bright and new, almost obnoxiously so as he pulled down the one closest to him.

Getting out of the car was far from painless, but he managed it, back, shoulders and legs all creaking and cracking in their own time as he straightened up, rolling his head to either side and breathing in as deep as he could.

"Mornin'"

When he turned, the first thing he saw was the map spread out on the car bonnet, the second was Connor, examining it as a coroner would a homicide victim. He only looked up when Murphy had stepped up to the other side and tugged the map a little his way, though at the same time, Murphy saw how shattered he looked.

"You look like shit"

"And you're Miss Georgia first thing in the fuckin' mornin', yeah?" Clapping him on the arm, Connor pulled the map back and turned it around, pointing to a small black X. "A'right - We're here, but we've got another 50 miles, maybe a little less before we get to Macon if we keep headin' in this direction...we need to get more gas, jus' t'be safe"

Murphy just nodded his agreement for the time being, glancing over the crumpled paper underneath his hand, eyes soon finding their apparent destination.

"That's the plan then..?"

Connor nodded. "That's the plan."

"And what happens after that? You wanna stay there?"

"If the shit hits the fan there, we can go further South – try Savannah, maybe Jacksonville."

It was ambitious, even for one of Connor's plans, and Murphy's expression sold it.

"That's a lot of drivin'…"

"Aye. But hey, what else have we got to do, right? Besides, it might not even come to that. We could find some long-lost refugee camp for survivors along the road. Maybe even a big-ass boat that'll take us back to Kilkenny."

"Oh aye, keep dreamin'."

The halfway-playful smiles they'd both mustered slowly faded – Connor's because he was now focusing on Murphy's injuries, and Murphy for the same reason, hands gingerly touching the ones which had opened and bled during the night, wincing with each one.

"…How're you doin'?"

"Fine…Nothin' I can't handle."

"Alright, I hear you…Hey, you remember anythin' from last night?"

Murphy frowned. "I remember wakin' up and you drivin'. You said there were walkers or some shit"

"None'a the rest?" When he only shrugged again, Connor pulled a face of slight disbelief. "You were only up half the bloody night. Talkin' in your sleep, nightmares-"

"Fuck off…"

"I ain't messin' with you, Murph'. Either way, looks like you got more shut eye than me."

The glimmer of defence left him, and was quickly replaced by guilt. That explained why Connor looked so exhausted – if not by walkers, he'd been kept up by him.

"Sorry, man…next time, just boot me out the car. Sure I'll do jus' fine"

"It was temptin', trust me" Somehow, Connor managed a light kind of laugh, more mixed with his words than a separate sound, folding the map once and twice and casting a look at the road ahead. It was almost perfectly silent, apart from the leaves hissing and crinkling in the wind, and the occasional bird hidden among the branches. The air smelled of the rain that'd soaked the area the day and night before, crisp and new, refreshing but chilled. Either way, it was a change to the stagnation of block A; that was an atmosphere neither could nor would forget in a hurry.

With the map pushed into his back pocket, Connor motioned for Murphy to get back in the car, though of course, this wasn't suggested without protest. And so, after a simple argument in his defence and a weak attempt to argue back, the two made themselves comfortable on the bonnet of the car. Murphy had said he was sick of being cramped up, needed a few minutes to stretch his legs and get some fresh air, while honestly all he needed – all they both needed – was for everything to just stop for a while. For things to just be still and quiet. Times like this nowadays were all but mythical. Of course, they were careful to watch for walkers, but given how little sound there was, any footsteps or groans would be heard easily, any rustling from the forest quickly noted. Neither of the boys spoke, not really. A muttered comment here and there, an 'aye' of agreement, but no real conversation. Only when Murphy finally caved and pushed himself to his feet to get them something to eat did they really talk again. The jerky tasted like flavoured cardboard and what was once some kind of carbonated sports drink was practically flat, but it was better than nothing. Food had become such a rare and valuable thing when it was found, that it was almost like torture eating it, especially good stuff – because you never knew when you'd get to have it again.

Ripping a piece off with his teeth, Murphy passed the packet back, chewing thoughtfully for a minute before following a few chesty coughs with a question, one that made Connor pause before answering.

"How long d'you reckon we'll be able to keep this up?"

"As long as we need to."

"For the rest of our lives..? Just, drivin' and scavengin'..? I mean, we ain't teenagers anymore, but we're not greetin' the reaper anytime soon either"

Connor just turned the packet over in his hands, keeping them busy as he dropped his eyes from Murphy and lifted them back to the view ahead.

"I don't know what to tell you, Murph'…I know I ain't dyin' any time soon, and neither are you. So, till the world ends, we act like it intends to keep spinnin'."

"Hate to disappoint you, Conn' – but it kinda already has"

With a feigned, but weary look of pleasant surprise, Connor pushed himself off of the bonnet and lifted his arms in mock celebration.

"And look at us now! Gold medal winners, we've been doin' so fuckin' great so far!"

Giving him a sarcastic round of applause, Murphy followed his lead, and climbed back into the passenger side, seriously overestimating how difficult said action would be, but still managing it without Connor getting too concerned. Grabbing the pack of jerky from him, Murphy helped himself to another handful as the engine came to life.

The sun practically refused to come out again over the course of the day, not that either of them particularly cared much. They'd been brought up under overcast skies and thick grey clouds, with the sun only coming out for a select few weekends in the year, or so it seemed. Murphy took up his post as navigator, and for a little while, it was pretty much smooth sailing.

But, as with most things, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is. The cough they'd both contracted still clung to them like a bad memory, and while Murphy didn't seem to be as phased by it as he had been days ago, Connor wasn't doing as well. Every few minutes, he'd start up all over again, doing his best to suppress it and more often than not making it worse in the process. Getting soaked to the bone when they'd escaped the 'house of horrors', as it'd been dubbed, probably hadn't helped, nor had staying in wet clothes and not getting enough sleep. Not enough of anything they needed to get over it. But, Murphy said nothing, knowing that his sibling would brush him off, not that there was anything either of them could have done anyway. All they could do was hope they were as strong and invincible as they used to think they both were, back when bullets and killing were nothing more than exciting plot points in TV shows.

"Any way we can get back onto route 18?"

Stifling a yawn, Connor tapped the map with the back of his hand, the other resting dutifully on the steering wheel.

"Can't get back on something we were never usin' in the first place."

"Well, it's a straight shot on there to the next city. If not, it's gonna be a long drive."

"Only as long as the fuel tank holds out…Christ, people who complained about the price of petrol…wonder how they're gettin' on now that it's like fuckin' gold…"

"Think we'll make it?"

"Just about, if we're lucky."

Only a couple of minutes went by before Connor looked back to his brother briefly, making sure he was still awake as he went to speak.

"How're you doin' after that? The old man, back at the house I mean-"

"How many fuckin' times do I have to tell you I'm fuckin' fine? Psycho just cut me up a bit, could'a been worse. I'm fine, Connor. Just fuckin' leave it"

"I ain't talkin' about all that – I'm talkin' about you killin' him"

For a short few seconds, Murphy could only look at his brother in incredulous disbelief.

"Are you fuckin' serious? The man was a psychopath, he killed people – would'a killed us!"

"You don't think I know all that? I'm just sayin', the way you did it – that was pretty fuckin' graphic, Murph'. It ain't the same as shootin' someone-"

"It needed doin'. That's that. If I hadn't, someone else would'a gotten hurt." With a slightly defensive sigh, Murphy rubbed a hand through his hair, letting his elbow come to rest on the window. "We used to kill men like him all the time, and only now do you wanna get on your fuckin' high horse-"

"Hey – I'm not gettin' up on anythin' here. He had to die, I get that, and if you hadn't of had the honour, I would've taken it gladly. I'm tryin' to ask if you're okay after turnin' someone into a fuckin' knife block."

The realization that it was more concern than criticism suddenly made a lot more sense. Thinking over his answer, Murphy cleared his throat, and didn't look at Connor again while he replied.

"It's the heat of the moment, you know? I was angry, fuckin' terrified, relieved you were okay and we were gettin' out, and I just…lost it for a second."

His fingers flexed a little as the memory replayed in his head, eyes closing, just for a moment.

"Felt like…I don't know. It's as easy as it looks, and a lot harder. Drivin' a knife into someone…I prefer guns, and I'm leavin' it at that."

"Fair enough"

The subject had been settled less than a minute before both of the brothers were leaning forward a little, trying to read the words that had been spray painted onto one of the larger road signs. As they drew closer, Connor stopped the car, and they both climbed out, looking up to read the sign properly.

"The fuck does that mean..?"

Disregarding the words beneath it, Connor shot Murphy a look.

"'Terminus'…looks like the end is nigh, brother."