Struggling to Live.

Cameron gave her a questioning look.

"Take it, clean yourself up," she said.

Cameron took the envelope. Inside were a bunch of alcohol wipes. It took him three or four to clean his face enough to recognition. He didn't look like he was so beat up now.

"Thank you," he said as he handed the envelopes back. "My name is Cameron,"

"I'm Dennis, and this is Trisha," Dennis said.

"Where are we going?" Cameron asked.

"Heading back to a secure place," Dennis assured.

They sat silent for an hour. As they traveled away from the city, he noticed that the damage wasn't as bad. The towns were desolate.

"So, do you guys know what is happening? Was there an attack on the US?" Cameron asked, breaking the silence.

"Dunno'. About four days ago. When the bombs first hit, nothing worked. Cars, phones, watches, nothing'," Dennis said.

Four days? No wonder he was so hungry and thirsty. Cameron had taken the green beans out of his pack and peeled off the lid. He struggled to eat them as the buggy bounced around on the roads. He quickly finished and drank the liquid inside, and threw the can out.

"Thank you for taking me in," Cameron said again.

"We'll go over the rules when we get home," Dennis said, followed by another hour of silence.

They turned down a road, not even a road, it was more like a trail, and headed down the twisting and curving for twenty minutes before they came to a split. Dennis didn't slow down, he took the left without hesitation, so Cameron assumed that they had known where they were.

They entered thick woods, forcing Dennis to slow down to a crawl. They traveled for another twenty minutes before arriving at a small camp.

There were another six people in the camp, who immediately greeted Dennis and Trisha.

"Another one Dennis? That's the third one today," A tall, lanky man said.