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Ma’am?”
                  The woman eyed the inventory in the truck. "Got any anti-tank weapons?" She asked, knowing full well they did. Ethan had found it under a bunk at the Gray Summit TCP and was planning to use it to blow up the first Army truck that tried to stop him from getting to his family.
                  They had to let go of the AT4 Ethan was so proud of, but they were allowed passage through Twin Bridges after that. Maybe the woman would just enjoy splattering a few zombies with it, or maybe she and the equally buff looking woman in the tent would use it as a sex toy. It didn’t really matter either way, Ethan’s mind was wandering now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
    The road ahead promised two more towns and more roadblocks still. At this point the hope was those would be abandoned too. "She might have been cute twenty years ago." Keith finally broke the silence. They weren’t listening to the truck’s radio. Nothing was being broadcast, and the previous owner’s CD collection consisted entirely of Conway Twitty. The silence was annoying, but preferable to Country Western from the 1970’s. The next best thing was to sing to each other, and that wasn’t going to happen all gay jokes aside.
                  "We can go back if you want her number." Ethan offered. "That butch chick with the rambo headband and tattoos in the tent behind her might take offense to that though, so tread carefully my friend.”
                  "What if we run into a real roadblock and they want to know where we got the guns? I’ve heard about some deserters who’ve been shot. What’s to say they don’t just do that and save the paperwork?”
                  "There's always traffic backed up at roadblocks. We'll see it coming and go around." Ethan looked over at Keith, changing the subject. "Do you think any of the infected can reason to do something like that? Strategize and work together?”
                  "I don't know. When they're raging they don't care about much but hurting themselves or you, but they’ve been known to open complex door handles in pursuit of prey. We usually euthanized them, the order to start shooting the Infected came down a few months ago, I’m sure you know. I haven’t been privy to any clinical studies beyond the Rage Phase, I’m sad to say. For all I know they just break the doors open by sheer force, or they could remember absolutely everything until the moment of death.”
                  "That's a really pretty word for shooting them in the head, ‘ euthanize .’" Ethan was still not quite over Keller’s death, and the seemingly selfless action that had ended his life weighed against the illogical actions the infected were prone to. Keith was very likely not a believer in Karma, or at least Murphy’s Law, two philosophies Ethan found were almost inseparable.
                  "You're not a believer anymore either, are ya? In the mission I mean." Keith said with a smile, taking Ethan by surprise with the first part. "I'll bet you got Drafted . A prior service Soldier who didn't want to come back. No wonder you weren't all that upset when your unit pulled out."
                  "That is a surprisingly complete summary of my predicament." Ethan had to hand it to his new friend. “How did you get here?”
                  "I was stationed at Fort Polk. What a blight on civilization that place is/was. There was a call for volunteers to help at Fort Lewis, Washington. I volunteered just to escape Polk and got diverted to Scott AFB en route, then trucked to Fort Leonard Wood. We all just kinda trickled to smaller assignments from there, I guess. My orders were so fluid at one point I just started bumming around with whatever unit I wanted until I landed myself at Antire Hill." A few burned out cars on the hill ahead forced them to slow. They were just outside of Ethan’s