Never before was Cameron so happy to be in the middle of nowhere. Oh sure there was the occasional monster that ran at them from a field, but they posed no threat. And Cameron had his GPS, so he could easily maneuver around any and all small towns.

The real enemy was night. The sun seemed to go down quicker than usual, forcing Cameron to turn on his headlight, thus attracting attention. Still, that didn't stop him from driving west, just driving. His eyes were set straight ahead, being wary of anything that got in his way.

"Your phone's vibrating again," Marge announced from the back, where she was cuddling her sleeping child. "Wanna take it?"

Cameron held his hand out for it and answered.

"Hello?"

"Oh thank god, Cameron, where are you?"

"Nowhere," he said. "I'm just heading west for as long as I can."

"Good," she said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Now," she started, Cameron sensing that she was going into all out bitch mode, "what the hell were you thinking going back into the city. Who is this woman?"

"She's Mike's mom's coworker," he replied, short on patience. "I got stuck with her at Eli's, and then she wanted to get her kid. I couldn't say no, mom."

"Well that was still a big risk!"

"But I'm fine, and I'm on the move!" Cameron said. "Forget about me, what's going on over there?"

"Well Kauai's been quarantined, so the National Guard and local police are patrolling the shores and harbors." She paused. "Oh, Cameron, please find somewhere safe."

"I'm working on it."

"Well, here's your father."

"Hello? Cam?" his dad's voice said. "Where are you headed right now?"

"Canada," Cameron answered. "I figure it's less populated the farther north I go."

"That's good for now. But listen," he said, becoming more serious. "You're better off if you run into rednecks that are willing to take stragglers, and have been prepared for this shit."

"What shit?" Cameron asked, curious about his father's definition.

"You know," he said, becoming more hushed. "Zombies!" he hissed quickly and quietly. Cameron understood, for his mother would never accept such a ridiculous explanation (no matter how accurate).

Chuckling, Cameron said, "Love ya, dad."

"Same here, son." The call ended, so Cameron tossed his phone on the seat next to him.

"Excuse me," Marge said from the back, with the same bitch tone as his mom. "You got 'stuck' with me?"

"Well you gotta admit that you were useless at the beginning," he responded, unabashed.

"Stop at that truck over there," she ordered, pointing up ahead at a black pickup truck stopped on side of the road.

When Cameron did, they saw that inside there was a monster locked inside, desperately trying to find a way out. It spotted them, and the occupant went ape shit.

Marge got out of the car with the gun (her son was napping), and in one fell swoop she pointed it point blank at the monster's face and pulled the trigger (her son woke up with a start). The window shattered and blood and brain splattered the interior.

"There," she announced, leaning into the Honda and giving the gun to Cameron. "We'll just take some of this food and be on our way."

"So you're just leaving?" Cameron asked, perplexed. "Just cause of what I said?"

"Well we're just a burden, right?" she responded as she helped her groggy and confused kid out.

Cameron watched at Marge heaved the body out of the car and left it lying on the street. She was just about to get in, when Cameron found himself shouting, "Wait!" Only a few hours ago he was prepared to venture out by himself—but now he found the prospect of being alone frightening. "I'm sorry. You don't have to go."

Marge put on a satisfied smile, and slammed the driver's door of the truck closed. She proceeded to get back into backseat of the Honda—and just in time too. Five monsters ran out from the dark crop of trees to their left and attacked. Cameron took that as his cue to leave and hauled ass out of there.

"So where did you learn to handle a gun?" Cameron had to ask.

Marge looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well first at that daycare, and now that pickup truck? You gotta have experience."

She began chuckling. "I fired wildly into a crowd, and I shot a monster at point blank range," she explained as if speaking to a slow person. "How does that take skill?"

"Good point," he mumbled.

Maneuvering around all those small towns was no easy feat. Every five or ten miles one appeared on his GPS, and had to make the appropriate maneuvers to avoid them. But that didn't mean they didn't run into any zombies. There was no way that Cameron was the only to get out of the city, and not everybody that got out was uninfected.

Not only that it was slow going. He kept a constant speed of fifty mph—that might've been fast for other people, but Cameron was used to going much, much faster. It was only because he didn't want to smack a zombie while doing ninety, loose control, and careen off the road that he wasn't going faster.

After a few hours Cameron found himself ten miles or so from the Illinois/Iowa border, and saw on the map an obstacle that he didn't take into account: the Mississippi River.

"Fuck," he breathed, checking to make sure that his surroundings were zombie-free, and pulled off to the side of the road.

"What's up?" Marge asked, stepping to the front.

Cameron focused the map over Davenport. "We have three bridges to choose from," he started. "These two to the west are in the middle of the city and too far."

"So we use this one," she said, pointing to the one to the north.

"That's still pretty far from here," Cameron thought. "And still near a populated area."

"I suppose you're right. We'd also have to get back on I-80." The two of them silently agreed that wasn't a fun prospect. Marge then zoomed the map out and moved it north. "Forget going through Iowa. Let's go to Wisconsin."

"Alrighty." Cameron was about to drive on when his stomach growled, and his eyes suddenly felt heavier.

Marge smiled, saying, "Why don't I drive?"

He wasn't happy about giving up the driver's seat, but the day sapped all of Cameron's energy and he hadn't eaten since lunch.

"Keep Jack company in the back," Marge told him, ushering him from behind the wheel.

The kid was still sleeping there in the back, his face pressed against the door. It was then that he felt good about picking up Marge and her kid, glad to have risked his ass back at the daycare.

As Marge started driving, Cameron decided to take out his cell phone and call Mike. It went rang for thirty seconds, and Mike's away message came on. He feared the worst, but decided he might've just been sleeping; or his mom was probably being a pain in the ass and told Mike not to answer.

There was a beep that told him to leave a message. "Remember those things aren't people anymore…. Call me back, bud."

Cameron sat back and dug into his backpack for something to eat.