To say the night was awkward in Daryl's trailer would be an understatement. When I finally went back inside after saying goodnight to my family, he had finished eating some kind of microwave meal and was washing up. I had grabbed my stuff out of my car and eaten a couple of granola bars, thankful I didn't have to impose on his hospitality (such as it was) any further.

He brushed past me without a word and headed toward the bedroom and bathroom. I waited a bit, and when he'd finished in the bathroom I took a turn. I peeled off my blouse and pants, and changed into comfortable shorts and a t-shirt, rinsing as much dirt and sweat off as I could. I spread my sleeping bag on the couch and attempted to get comfortable. It wasn't a luxury hotel, but it was better than my car or a tent so I soon fell asleep, haunted by dreams of stumbling corpses, terrifying men groping me, and safety in leather and smoke.

I was woken abruptly by Daryl banging around in the kitchen, and it took me a minute to get my bearings. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, grimacing at the tangles. I'm not one of those women that wakes up looking fresh and rested - I can't do much before I have a cup of strong black tea and let my brain wake up a bit, and my hair tends to work its way into a birds nest on my head.

Thankfully Daryl was studiously ignoring me, so I went to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and managed to tame the worst of the snarls. I pulled on another nice work outfit, minus the jacket, since all my hiking clothes were dirty, and took a deep breath before heading back into the awkward tension of the living area where I tried to break the silence. "Thanks again for letting me stay here. I'm sure I'll figure out something for tonight. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help out?"

Daryl silently drank his coffee at the counter and ignored my question. "Gonna see what I can find out about what's goin' on in the city." He slurped the last of his drink and left, heading toward the convenience store.

I grabbed another granola bar and poured some coffee, missing my tea along with all the other comforts of home. I sat at the kitchen table, turned on my personal hotspot, and fired up my laptop, figuring I'd get some work done while I was waiting. I had a week of emails to slog through, and needed to make arrangements for my clients while I was delayed, not to mention figure out a place to sleep if I couldn't get out of here.

I was on the phone with my mentor and partner when Daryl walked back in, banging the trailer door loudly behind him. Matt raised his eyebrows in the video call and I cleared my throat, "Hey, sorry, I'm just doing a little work. Did you find out anything?"

Daryl shook his head, "Roads'r shut down. Buncha people rioting an the military declared martial law. Ya ain't goin' anywhere right now." He grabbed what looked like a crossbow from his bedroom and headed back toward the door. "Goin' huntin'." The door banged shut behind him and I looked back at Matt.

"Well he seems nice and friendly" he quipped. "Seriously though, is he okay? Are you safe with him?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's a grumpy bastard, but I don't think he's a bad guy. Some men were harassing me last night and he stepped in and now he's letting me stay here, so I can deal with a little attitude." Matt was almost as old as my dad, and kind of like an uncle to me, and I knew he was worried though he tried to cover it with humor.

We made some arrangements for Matt to cover my clients while I was gone, and I began contacting them to explain what was going on. My clients are either juvenile delinquents, or involved in the foster system in some way - parents and children - so there's a lot of dysfunction and I felt bad throwing another wrench in the works.

I drafted some motions to continue hearings that were scheduled for the end of the week but I was really struggling to focus. All I wanted was to find out what was going on in Atlanta and the rest of the country so I pulled up the Times' website and began reading about the latest developments.

It appeared that the infection was spreading slowly out of Georgia, but it had only gotten as far north as Kentucky and as far west as Dallas, and only a handful of cases. The national mood seemed to have changed from outrage at the lockdown of Georgia to panic that it would spread, and support for increasingly militant efforts to keep it under control.

There was all kinds of speculation about the spread - whether it was just infected people getting out, or whether the virus was transmitted through water or air. The fact that there were still uninfected folks in Georgia seemed to indicate that you had to be bitten to turn, but there were rumors of folks who appeared to have died of natural causes that ended up reanimating, and no one knew if these reports were fake news or not. Religious nuts were railing about the end of times and the wrath of God and everything was horribly bleak, even compared to the tumultuous events of the past couple of years.

I spent the rest of the day talking to my family and watching the news, growing less and less confident that I'd make it home safely. I come from a big, tightly knit family that pulls together in any sort of a crisis, so various relatives were in and out of my house, helping my husband with the kids and grilling me with questions over video chat. I talked to dozens of friends and co-workers as well, all of whom were worried for me and curious what I could tell them about the crisis (which wasn't much).

The adults put on a good face, but we all knew that this might not end well and I started writing letters to each of my kids, just in case I didn't get back. As I wrote out my hopes and dreams for them, trying to express how much I loved them and how incredible they were, tears flowed freely and I was glad Daryl was gone. It all felt surreal - stuck in a trailer in the stifling heat, in rural Georgia during an outbreak of a disease straight out of a horror movie. I just wanted to be home with my family, locked down in our familiar small town the way we'd done during the COVID crisis.

I heard footsteps outside and looked out to see Daryl throwing a couple of rabbits down on the table under the carport. He got out a bucket and a hunting knife and began dressing them, clearly experienced in the process.

I had poked around his kitchen a bit and gotten a feel for what he had on hand so I went outside and offered to cook them for dinner, hoping he'd let me stay another night if I made myself useful in some way. Daryl squinted up at me and shrugged, "Be my guest. Don't got a gourmet kitchen in there though Princess - ya sure you'll survive?" I bit back a snide reply and just nodded, "I'll be fine. Nothing fancy, just stew." He nodded and went back to his work so I went inside and began dinner, hoping that meant I could stay the night.

That evening was more awkward than the night before, as we ate in silence. I'm usually very talkative, as is the rest of my family, and I squirmed uncomfortably at the lack of conversation. Finally, I tried to break the ice.

"How did you learn to hunt? It's pretty impressive - that crossbow. Seems like you'd need a lot of skill to use something like that."

Daryl kept his head down, shoveling stew into his mouth and shrugged. He swallowed and muttered, "jus' learned as a kid. Not that hard" and went back to eating. I got the hint and finished my meal without another word.

Daryl washed his bowl and spoon and turned on the TV while I cleaned mine. Every channel was covering the outbreak so we sat and listened for a while. I tried to hold it together to show Daryl that I was capable in a crisis, and didn't fall apart easily, but the images on the news were absolutely awful. Eventually it just became too much and tears began slipping down my cheeks, partly because of my own situation, partly for my family, and partly for the hundreds of innocent people who had died already.

I cried in silence, trying to wipe them away subtly but eventually Daryl shut off the set and looked over at me. I drew up my knees to my chest and buried my head, unable to stop crying and beyond caring whether he saw.

He shifted uncomfortably and then offered, "Ain't gonna kick ya out. Dunno what's gonna happen but ya can stay here until ya figure it out." I heard him get up from the couch and make his way to the bedroom and I curled up on the couch and tried to sleep.