The map crinkled as Sam looked up from it. "Would you believe the creek we crossed a while back is literally named the 'Potato Run'?"

"Wow, that's... a great mental image. What do you think he's running from?"

"I mean, if I'm being self aware, probably us and a fryer."

Rebecca chuckled as her eyes roved the scenery around them. Getting across the first highway wasn't bad at all, but it was the next one that worried them both. It was a direct shot back to D.C. — not as big as 95, but still the straight-line route anyone fleeing towards this part of the countryside would take.

Her agitation grew as the stretches of spring foliage gave way to the occasional clearcut swath, then more wide open farms, followed by 'decorative' woods and residences on sprawling plots. Even Sam's mention of "Swamp Poodle Lane" only got the briefest grin as she contemplated which houses and barns might make a perfect sniper hide and pushed the SUV hard to scurry past them.

As they drew past town and began circling towards the northwest, they spotted sporadic smoke trails in the sky — small enough to probably be stoves, small cooking fires. Sam dug out a compass and started marking their approximate locations on the map.

Rebecca glanced over at her after the first few. "Encouraging, but I'm not up for any more diplomatic overtures."

"Oh hell no. We did our good deed for the trip."

"Like three times over."

The next few miles passed in relative quiet until Rebecca's adrenaline spiked as she spotted an oncoming vehicle in the distance. The other driver must have spotted them simultaneously, because they braked to a quick stop just as she did. She squinted forward as Sam picked up a pair of binoculars — looked like a white civilian SUV... probably a Ford Explorer, but not the police model. She'd learned the differences in the grill and bumper shapes pretty fast after poor Jaime got edgy every time one dropped in behind them on the road.

Sam studied them in the binoculars for a few tense seconds, then spoke. "They're shaded inside the car but it looks like a man and a woman, not in uniform. Looking right back at me through binocs."

Rebecca drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and looked around to their side and rear. "See any guns or anything?"

"No."

"How far back to go around them?"

Sam lowered the binoculars long enough to look at the map, then raised them to her eyes again. "About two miles, but then they're behind us the whole way."

Rebecca sighed. "I think I'd be worrying they were hounding us towards something unpleasant the entire way. On the other hand, one assumes they're coming from somewhere."

"Equally as likely they're heading back home. Don't start second guessing yourself over the other day, this is a new situation."

"Ugh, you're right. Okay, tell the others we're gonna let them pass."

Sam traded the binocs for a grip on her SMG and picked up the radio with her off hand while Rebecca cranked the wheel over and nudged the throttle. She urged the lumbering SUV across the gravel shoulder and into the unfenced field, trying to keep a steady momentum. The ground looked dry enough, but the last thing she wanted was to bog down and trap them out in the open, especially right then.

She was grateful Landry wasn't in the back seat as they lurched along, and that they weren't in a Humvee. At least this vehicle had a padded ceiling for when her head thumped against it thanks to an unexpected hollow in the ground — a problem Sam's smaller stature would spare her as she turned to watch the Ford through the side windows.

"They're rolling, just forward on the road for now."

"Okay." Rebecca backed off to just a gentle pressure on the throttle, just enough to keep moving at a slow roll, and gradually changed their angle across the field to parallel the road. The din of clattering equipment in the back quieted as their pace did, and she could actually hear herself think again. "I can't help feeling like that first episode of Firefly, when the creepy-ass cannibal pirate ship is drifting past and the entire crew is like 'please don't turn, please don't turn'."

"Heh." Sam lifted the binoculars to her eyes again — left handed, right still white-knuckled around her gun — and tracked the Ford as it moved past Rebecca's window, then the one behind her. "Remember, we're the ones with bullet holes in our side. They probably feel the same way about us right now."

"Here's hoping." Rebecca stole a glance over her shoulder and then started looking for a smooth spot to get back onto the road.

"Okay, they're past us, and appear to be flooring it."

"Whew." As they rolled back onto pavement, Rebecca tried to stretch tension she only just noticed from her neck. "It's nice to see people alive out here, but if they could maybe do it, y'know. Somewhere over there..."

"Yeah. Again, I'm sure they feel similarly."

"I guess it makes sense, more people would have survived out here. Lower density, and all the farmland would help if they could survive until a harvest."

"And if Mags and her bunch of fucknuts had livestock, you know people out here do too. Take the left coming up after that rise."

After several minutes of field after field separated by ancient-looking hedgerows, Sam guided them through a tight zigzag between a farmhouse and long row of mobile homes. They popped out onto a narrow run of pavement that Rebecca thought could only be called "two-lane" under the most charitable of circumstances. It was barely wider than the bike path they'd used to get to her apartment, but she saw Sam's reasoning when they approached a bridge over US-15 — the freeway they'd been concerned about. Their little pathway paralleled a railroad bridge, and beyond that another four-lane overpass. Three options, all in close proximity, great fallback options if one was blocked.

Things on the other side of the freeway were a little too developed for comfort, getting close to the fringe of urban Culpeper. Fortunately they soon made a sharp right, crossed the tracks and local four-lane road that spanned the other overpasses, and were back into the countryside, breathing easier for several miles.

Rebecca waited for the finale of a song Sam was bouncing her leg in time to, then spoke up. "You know, I was thinking about what you said about time being an inevitable bitch. My sucky version of it? So often, I've been able to think ahead during a particular moment, and realize that at some point I'll be past it and thinking back to it. Then down the road a ways, I'd remember having done that. It made for a lot of uncomfortable 'where has all the time gone' moments."

Sam seemed to ponder it for a moment, then looked over at Rebecca with an expression that registered as mild horror. "Oh god, I hope I can forget you telling me that and not start doing it myself."

"Sorry." Rebecca chuckled contritely. "On the upside, it's actually been helpful to 'fast forward' through some sucky times."

"Yeah, okay. I guess I can see that. But it's still a pretty fucked up way of approaching 'this too shall pass'. Maybe you should just stick with the original, huh?"

"Let's be real here. That would be way too functional."

"Right, right, who am I talking to." Sam waved her hand and made a show of rolling her eyes at Rebecca, but was grinning affectionately.

The radio crackled, and Sam picked up the handset. They were surprised when, instead of Patrick or Chrissie, an unfamiliar male voice came over it. "Hailing unknown black SUVs on Ryland Chapel Road, state route 640 on maritime channel sixteen. Are you on this frequency? Repeat, hailing unknown black SUVs on maritime one-six."

Rebecca arched an eyebrow at Sam as their eyes met. "Uh... okay, great."

"I guess they saw the antennas and figured that was a channel we might be monitoring?" It was a fair assumption — even though they were far from any major bodies of water, they had their radios tuned to several bands as they drove, including popular CB channels and designated emergency frequencies like that one. Sam poked a few buttons and replied. "We hear you, go on maritime sixteen."

"Please state your affiliation and intentions."

Before she transmitted, she looked at Rebecca. "Such friendly locals. At least they said please?" She shook her head and pushed the transmit button. "Just civilians passing through, trying to get to some family. We're not looking for trouble, but are heavily armed and will defend ourselves."

"Copy, miss. Sounds like we have that last part in common. Stay on Ryland Chapel Road, then Rixeyville or Monumental Mills until you cross the river. Do not deviate into adjacent areas and we'll all get along just fine."

Rebecca saw Sam glance at the map before she replied. "And we'll get safe passage? No bullshit ambushes at those river crossings?"

"Take no hostile action and neither will we. Everyone saves ammo and sees the sunset tonight."

Rebecca raised a few fingers from the steering wheel to indicate Sam shouldn't reply just yet and nodded at the maps. "Are they trying to funnel us?"

"Those are the two main ways north and west. We're already headed for Monumental. There's a third option they didn't mention that splits off it just before the river, but maybe that's one of the areas they want us to stay out of?"

Rebecca thought for a moment. "Okay, so either they want us to stay out of there, and will let us drive right on by, or they'll ambush us at the river, which means all the talk about not going the other way is bullshit, and that's our bug out route."

"Sounds like three-quarters of a plan to me."

"Well shit, that's better than average."

Sam groaned and keyed up the mic. "So we all mind our own business and go on our merry ways, nobody starts anything but we're both prepared finish it?"

"Sounds like we understand each other."

Sam lowered the mic and looked at Rebecca. "I wonder if we should find out who they are."

"I mean, I don't want to tell them who we are, so..."

"Yeah, fair point. I'll check in with the rest of the gang." Rebecca heard a familiar beep as Sam pushed and held the preset they were using for encrypted comms. Their friends would have heard the whole exchange, but still.

Rebecca's nerves were back on edge again, trying to figure out where they were being watched from while Sam talked on the radio. Spotters in farmhouses, or the brush? Or did these strangers have a drone overhead? She ducked down to try to look up through the windshield or side windows a few times, but the SUV didn't have much upwards visibility. Relief that she and her friends had taken such pains to minimize human contact warred with doubts that all the meandering might be having the opposite effect, running into all these little pockets of strangers. It didn't help that now all this was happening after they'd reached and left Sam's former home, and all the risks her friends were taking now were for her benefit.

Rebecca tried to remind herself of the multiple lectures she'd received — and doubtless would again if she gave voice to her worries — as she leaned on the throttle, zooming as quickly as she dared down the unfamiliar road to make it through... whoever's territory this was. She tried to piece together what Ronnie would say right now. Should they have doubled back? Would the mysterious watchers have IED's somewhere between them and the river, instead of an ambush at the crossings?

Maybe Doug would be better at spotting those, but she daren't stop there to have him switch vehicles, and she felt wrong having Chris and Pat take the lead. She asked Sam to keep an eye out for any kind of roadside trap while she focused on the road, remembering to vary her speed to mess with anyone leading a shot at a wheel. At least they had the comfort of the armored windows around them, unless someone out there had a big .50 cal rifle. A machine gun would get through eventually too, but that would take successive focused hits, and as long as she could still see well enough to drive, she could make that a difficult proposition for an aggressor.

Okay, stop, dammit. You're driving yourself nuts here, and it's like you told Sam weeks ago, you'll just miss things. There's too many variables to predict. Get your center back, pay attention, be ready, don't focus so much on the could-be's you overlook something actually happening.

"Hey." She felt Sam's hand rest on her leg again, announced, intentionally no doubt. "Breathe. We'll all keep our eyes open, and they seemed just the right mix of standoffish and nonaggressive to me. We'll be alright, and your driving is starting to spook me a little."

Shit, that's right. "I'm sorry." Rebecca immediately reduced her pressure on the gas pedal. "I forgot — I got caught up trying to make us a hard target." See, you did miss something, dummy.

Sam patted her leg assuringly. "It's okay, I get it. Thanks for easing up. Do you want me to leave my hand there or is it going to bother you?"

Rebecca felt a mixed pang of sadness and appreciation that Sam thought to ask. "It's good, it's nice for now. Keeps me from spinning off. I'll let you know if that changes."

"Okay. You do that. Don't worry about hurting my feelings, and in exchange I'll keep my guilt and self-loathing in check. Fair?"

Rebecca rested her hand on Sam's for a moment before returning it to the wheel. "Deal. It's good we can split up the tasks between us, especially the impossible ones."

----------

I've been seeing more and more people associate music videos with chapters. So, I dunno. Here's one that works for S&R that I can't reference because it was released after the timeline of the story. Y'all will probably judge me for it but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

https://youtu.be/qr1-WpWOUk8

There's something tragic, but almost pure
Think I could love you, but I'm not sure
There's something wholesome, there's something sweet
Tucked in your eyes that I'd love to meet

[...]

Life is not a love song that we like
We're all broken pieces floating by
Life is not a love song, we can try
To fix our broken pieces one at a time

I like that you're broken
Broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you're lonely
Lonely like me
I could be lonely with you