There was enough gas left in the station reserves to nearly fill the 4 Runner. They were able to top it off by siphoning a few rundown jalopies dotting the side of the road as the left Flint behind.

There had been no cigarettes in any of the stores they checked but they did end up finding two packs of stale Chesterfields in the glove box of an old El Camino. That would last until the next time they needed gas Frank figured.

Also, there had been no decent women's clothing left at the drug store or anywhere else they stopped so Jane still looked like an RN from beyond the grave.

Frank took another healthy pull from one of the bottles—it burned so right—and lit up his second smoke in ten minutes.

Jane had had a little snack too, falling into some twisted realm of decorum, she'd asked Frank to turn around when she sipped from one of the spouts of her blood bags. A little dollop clung to the underside of her bottom lip when she got back in the driver's seat. With the staples it looked like she had her lip pierced. In fact, as Frank pulled and pulled on the Jack, he noticed she had that sort of goth look going on. The sunken eyes and sharp cheeks, hair nearly always obstructing her face, pale skin, lip ring and... well... death.

The zombie hottie.

"The zombie hottie?" Jane asked, looking over.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Ya did."

"Well... there ya go." Frank's head was swimming. Self-consciousness and embarrassment were thrown overboard when Jack was steering the ship.

They drove on, easing into a comfortable silence.

Frank actually found himself feeling somewhat serene. Maybe this is what he needed all along—for a good woman to kidnap him and force him to exhibit some kind of emotional response. They'd only been in the car together for a short time, but they'd established an easy rapport and joking familiarity that reached far beyond what Frank was used to. Their connection was effortless—like old friends.

He also couldn't help but notice how attractive she was. Even with the scrubs, he could sense her body-shape: long, lithe and firm. The oversized scrub-bottoms hanging off her sharp hip bones, her slender arms and long neck, her full, lustrous hair that seemed to fall perfectly no matter which way she flipped it. And those eyes.

He might have to reconsider his stance on necrophilia.

"Jesus, did I just say that?" Frank said, sitting up.

"What?" Jane seemed a little taken aback by the sudden break in the peace and quiet.

"Nothing," Frank said, taking another pull from the bottle, giving her a sideways glance to make sure.

Jane watched the road extend into the distance. The sun was setting, painting the sky with dynamic shades of pink and orange. "Why didn't you run back there?" Jane asked. "When we stopped. I even left the keys in the ignition."

"Well," Frank began, adding in a little grunt as though he was about to tell her something profound about his thought process—that he had considered the option but had some fierce internal debate that dug to the core of him, leaving him a little exhausted. But he didn't have a good reason.

Truthfully, he'd been wondering the same thing.

"Well, I thought about it but then I figured—what choice do I have? What else am I gonna do? Keep scooping up rotten bodies in Cheney?" He burped wetly. "And apart from your reckless criminal behavior and your outfit, you're not so bad. And honestly, it's nice to hear someone's voice again."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Well, it could be worse." Jane felt silly saying it—now, with the world the way it was.

"Yeah. Cheney was getting old anyway." He looked out the window. "But still... the house and all my stuff..."

"Yeah, I know. Look, I'm sorry about all that. I was thinking—if you do want to go back, you... you can. We can find another car somewhere for me and..."

"What about luring out the humans? Using me as brain bait?"

"Yeah, I thought about that. I suppose I could just keep hitting up hospitals hoping I can find some more blood or maybe, god forbid, some cadavers or something or... animals? I'm not sure how all this works. I don't know. Really, I'm just prolonging the inevitable, right?"

"You just described the plight of everyone on the planet," Frank said before taking another pull from the bottle. "But hold on... now you want... you drove through my house, kidnapped me, drove me out here to the middle of nowhere and now... you want to let me go?"

"I don't know. I was so caught up in my initial plan. It all seemed to make so much sense but... you're a nice enough guy and..." She trailed off waiting for Frank to fill the gap.

He purposely let it linger.

"Look, if I wanted to be gone, I'd be gone," he said finally.

Jane cracked a little smile.

Frank took another sip of Jack and replaced the cap. He had just enough of a buzz to where the humming of the tires matched the humming in his body. It felt nice. The breeze coming in the window was warm and fresh, the sunset gave the world a golden glaze, the music was pulsing rhythmically in time with his heartbeat.

Yeah, he thought. Things could be worse.

"How's the Jack treatin' ya?"

"Perfect," he said, closing his eyes.