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Whoever's bright idea it was to have Major drive on a road trip with Don E clearly had it in for him. Yes, they wanted him to suffer a special kind of torture, Major decided, as his copilot bounced and wriggled in his seat and kept up a running stream of irritating commentary. The only bright spot was the thought that Blaine was stuck with this all the time, and sooner or later Major could deposit Don E right back where he belonged and return to blissful silence.

Currently, Don E was cycling through radio stations, listening to the briefest of snippets before moving on, saying "No whammy, no whammy" over and over again. Major gave some serious thought to driving the car into a tree—but since that was unlikely to kill Don E, it probably wouldn't be worth the satisfaction.

Don E stopped channel-surfing long enough to shout out, "Oh, cows on my side!" under some delusional idea that they were playing cow poker.

Major wished he had stopped by the morgue for a snack before they left. Nice as it was to live on brain tubes, being somebody else for this trip sounded pretty good right now.

As if he had read Major's mind, Don E asked, "When we stoppin', Majey-Maje? I'm havin' a snack attack."

"We're not stopping."

"We've been on the road for hours! You know you're not in charge here—this is a joint operation."

Major rolled his eyes. Fillmore Graves had the power, they just made Blaine think he had a stake in what was going on to keep him quiet.

"Lighten up, Ma-hor. Look at us! We're out of the city. Open road! Wind in our … hair." Don E pointed to Major, since he was the only one of the two of them who actually had hair. "If you can't enjoy the little things, I don't know what to tell ya. Punch-buggy green, no punch back." And he socked Major in the shoulder.

Having had just about enough of this, Major socked him back. Hard. He'd been on hours-long road trips with entire football teams that hadn't been this annoying.

"Ow! I said no punch-backs!" Don E whined.

From the trunk came a sudden racket, as their cargo had apparently woken up, and was shouting "Let me out!" It was futile—they weren't going to—but moderately less annoying than listening to Don E's constant stream of jabber. Don E turned the radio up to drown out the sound of the screams from the trunk, and they rode together in grim silence.

Eventually they were low on gas—the old station wagon they were driving had plenty of storage space to haul a body, but it was not the most fuel efficient machine on the road. Major pulled into a small gas station. Don E immediately unbuckled. Recognizing that he wasn't going to be able to keep his copilot in the car short of physically restraining him, which would attract attention, Major snapped, "Make it quick."

"Aye, aye, Corporal. You need anything? Protein shake? Eyebrow comb?" He laughed and climbed out of the car.

It took forever. Major had finished pumping the gas and was back in his seat, buckled up, bored and frustrated and irritated, by the time Don E finally approached the car, his hands full of snack foods. He leaned over and opened the car door, since he didn't want to sit here forever while Don E tried to figure out how to do it himself without wasting more time by dropping things all over the ground. "All set?"

"You bet."

Finally they were able to pull out and get back on the road, much to Major's relief.

At last they reached their destination, checking into their hotel room to wait for their contact. Major headed into the room first, finding the remote to turn the TV on, make sure Seattle hadn't exploded in their absence, wishing he didn't think that was such a likely possibility. Behind him, Don E called out in irritation, "It's okay, I've got it!" as he hauled in the duffel bag their cargo was zipped into. "Save your strength for the crossfit games."

"Shut up. I'm trying to find out if anyone's reported her missing yet," Major told him, not moving his eyes off the TV.

Don E helped their cargo out of the duffel bag. She was a young woman, still wearing the clothes she had worn to the Scratching Post last night. "What's wrong with you?" she screeched. "Do you know who I am? Huh? Do you know who my father is?"

Pointing a pistol at her head to shut her up, Don E said, "I know exactly who you are, Sloane."

Still not looking, Major said, "Put the gun away, Don E."

"Thanks," the girl said. She looked sideways at Major. "My wrists hurt. Can you untie me? Please."

Don E relented and cut the zipties holding her. Immediately she got to her feet and socked him in the jaw. A good punch, too, felling him like a log. A living log, since he was still groaning, but it was a satisfying moment.

And a short one. Even as Don E swore and got up off the ground to hit her back, a report came on the news of a zombie attack at a gas station. A gas station north of New Seattle, which was where they were. They even had footage—of a raged-out Don E punching the plexiglass trying to get at the clerk. Don E and the girl had stopped fighting and were watching the coverage, as fascinated as Major, albeit for different reasons.

Major turned to him, wishing he didn't have to ask. "Don E, what the hell did you do?" even as the girl cried out "Oh, my god! You're zombies?"

"It was nothing. She overreacted. I just wanted some hooch, and she wouldn't sell it to me without ID. I mean … don't I look over 21?"

Getting to his feet, Major backed Don E across the room with the force of his anger. "Really? All you had to do was get your food and not go into rage mode!" He had to whisper so people in the rooms around them didn't hear all the intimate details of the zombie kidnappers in room 5.

"Forgive me, it's called having emotions. You should try it sometime!"

"Do you realize that half the cops in the state are probably out looking for us right now, and we still have an hour before your smuggling contacts get here?"

"You saw that old bat! She's the kind of redneck who claims aliens probed her."

"There's video, Don E." Disgusted by the entire day's events, Major pushed past Don E to the bathroom to splash his face with water and hopefully calm down enough to figure out what to do.

Behind him, the girl asked if Don E had any whiskey left, but since he'd never gotten the whiskey in the first place, that was a big no. "Even if I did," he told her, "it'd be my whiskey, wouldn't it?"

"Please?" There was real desperation in the girl's voice. "I'd been partying hard all night when you grabbed me. I have, like, no serotonin in me."

"What can I tell you—make better life choices next time."

The girl laughed in disbelief. "Next time I get kidnapped? Come on, you must have something that'll take the edge off."

"No! Go to sleep or somethin', dream you're someplace else."

"Now there's an idea," Major said wearily. He stretched out on the second bed. "Wake me when your people show up; keep your eye on her."

"What are you guys planning to do with me?" she asked.

Major looked at the girl, then at Don E. "You tell her." And he closed his eyes, dropping off to sleep with surprising ease to the background noise of Don E loudly refusing to talk and the girl pestering him.