"How much longer?" Sara was getting edgy again. Parts of the power grid had shut down and it was eerie driving in and out of lighted areas. Little islands of normalcy—or at the very least, reminders of the old world—that flashed by all too quickly.

"Well on any other day, I'd say about 10 minutes but…" Nick didn't need to explain the delay. His lips tightened as he stared out the front window into the darkness and he changed the subject. "Grab anything good to eat there, Greg. I'm kinda hungry."

"Sure. What do you want? Twinkies? Ho-Ho's? Chips?"

"God, that stuff will kill you. All those preservatives? No thanks, got any fruit?"

"I have a fruit pie…that's vaguely fruitlike."

Nick sighed, "I guess that'll have to do. Pass it up."

Greg leaned forward,

"Sara, I have a package of Twinkies here with your name on it." He offered her the snack.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry." She said as she gazed out the window.

"Well, you're chewing on your nails pretty good, I thought you might be…" Greg snagged her hand and pulled it away from her mouth.

Sara fidgeted uncomfortably; it's no good ignoring it…tell them.

"Uhh…listen guys. I really hate to tell you this but—"

Greg's eyes caught hers in the rearview.

"Did you get—get bit?" His voice was quiet.

"What! No! Nothing like that…I…have to…"

She blurted out the rest in a rush.

"I really have to pee…" She trailed off lamely.

Nick's lips twitched, he cleared his throat. Embarrassed Sara found herself divulging more than she wanted to. "Look, ever since I was a little kid, stress and running around and being scared and well it just makes me have to pee. I never was any good at hide and seek I'd get myself into a really good spot and them boom…I'd have to go." She smacked Nick's arm as he was starting to chuckle.

He adopted a paternal tone. "Why didn't you go at the house before we left, Sara?"

"I didn't have to go then, Dad." Sarcastically she rolled her eyes.

Greg butted in, "You can't hold it?"

"I have been holding it. I don't think I can for much longer." She shifted uncomfortably on the seat.

"Want me to pull over?" Nick offered.

"And what? Drop my drawers and crouch out there and go where a zombie could get me? No thanks."

"I could go with you." Greg offered. "You know stand guard for you…"

"Thanks but no. I can't go if someone's watching me."

Nick was starting to smirk so Sara whacked him on the arm again.

"Shut up! I have a shy bladder." Greg looked at Nick and a look of perfect male understanding passed between them, irritating Sara more. "Well I do. So we have to find a bathroom. Now!" Sara turned back and poked Greg. "And enough with the looks from back there you!"

Nick slowed the Tahoe and brought it to a halt. Sara turned around.

"Is there a gas stat—?" She stopped.

The road in front of them was completely blocked. Sara was able to deduce what had happened from the piles of wreckage in front of them. A large tractor-trailer lay jackknifed across the road, pinning several other cars under it when it had slammed onto its side. The trailer sides had accordioned and crumpled spilling boxes all over the road, drawing looters like flies to a corpse. Then of course the fires had been started and finally, like late guests to a dinner party, the zombies had staggered in.

"Well hell." Nick slammed his palms on the steering wheel in frustration.

"God. It's like Heironymous Bosch with cars out there isn't it?" Greg said causing Sara to quirk an eyebrow at him.

"I took an Art History course once in university." He offered by way of explanation.

She nodded. The many layers of Greg Sanders never ceased to surprise her.

"And arty chicks are freaks in the sack." He leered.

Good to know some things never changed though.

"Looks like you'll be getting that pit stop sooner rather than later, Sara." Nick said as he turned the Tahoe around. "That was the main road to HQ. We'll have to make one mother of a detour to get there now."

"The other routes could be worse than this one even..." Greg's voice echoed Nick's frustration. "And we have no way of knowing which way to go."

"There's never a traffic report when you need one." Sara muttered as she wiggled uncomfortably in the seat and concentrated on this bit of bad news as a distraction from her aching bladder.