Around a half hour later, Christine waved a few fingers from the top of the steering wheel as she pulled into the next spot over. Sam sat up from the bags she was laying back on, and Rebecca finished the last few stitches on the row she'd been halfway through when they appeared at the front gate.

Patrick started up the hill with their local volunteer, and Chrissie came around the back of the SUVs, leaning against the edge of the open rear hatch next to them. She glanced over her shoulder at Pat, then back to Rebecca and Sam.

"He's a good boy, knowing I wanted him to distract the other fella and make themselves scarce so I could come talk to you ladies. All it took was a wave of the fingers and a meaningful look."

Rebecca grinned. "I'll slip him a piece of my bacon if there's more tomorrow."

"Christ, Rebecca." Chrissie laughed at her. "He's my boyfriend, not your dog! Anyway, nice to see you two getting a little quality time. Davis says Ronnie says hello, and I'm sure Ronnie would say your pup does too."

Sam chuckled. "Aww. I miss da big lug."

"So save him some of your bacon since Rebecca is giving all of hers away!" Chris pushed off of the SUV as the other two women slid off of the bumper and Rebecca closed the hatch. Then, they all started up the hill at a slow amble. "Stuff's good at home," she continued. "Ronnie thinks we should offer the folks here relocation to the farm they're trying to start by the airport."

Rebecca tilted her head as she mulled the idea over. "That'd certainly be a good deal for them. We might have to convince them it won't just be another bunch of jackasses with guns."

"Yeah, true. I dunno, maybe we offer a few of them a tour, if they decide who they want to represent them..."

Rebecca lost track of the rest of Chrissie's sentence — her attention was drawn to the sound of Sam's footsteps crunching on the gravel and dirt of the road. She could tell exactly where Sam was in relation to her, maybe two feet to the left and another two behind.

She tried focus back on Christine's speech, but pinpricks tingled up her spine and down her arms as she felt the first threatening hint of queasiness. Dammit to hell. She really wanted to rip her id and all of its primitive instinctual drives out and hurl it into the woods. That's where creepy lurking monsters belonged anyway, right?

Instead, she stopped abruptly in her tracks, biting her lip in frustration and trying to push the threat of nausea away. It took Sam a stride to stop, so she'd moved up into Rebecca's peripheral vision, where her quizzical concern was visible.

"Remy, tell me what you need," she said softly.

Rebecca felt a splash of relieved gratitude and gestured Sam forward with a plaintive apology on her face.

Sam glanced slightly behind Rebecca, then ahead again, and Rebecca saw things click. 

Sam nodded and started walking again a half second before Rebecca, so she was slightly ahead and visible. The rest of Rebecca's uneasiness faded quickly and she was able to return attention to Christine, lingering resentment for her subconscious not withstanding.

Rebecca could tell she'd plainly witnessed the exchange, but their friend said nothing. Her appreciation for Sam's responsiveness was joined by a flush of warmth for Chrissie; bless her for not making a thing out of it and just resuming where she'd left off.

"If they get a chance to look around, maybe even talk to some of the folks back home, it could put them at ease. Heck, especially if they get to keep some of the guns."

Rebecca nodded. "True enough. Tierman might not want too many people running around with assault rifles, but it seems like owning something for home defense is more important than ever."

"Yeah. Practically a given, especially after their experience here. Anyway, maybe we should start with Dylan, let her put out feelers since she's so grateful for us rescuing her boy?"

"Hey!" Sam piped up, walking sideways for a moment. "Maybe we really could introduce him to Nate, if they move closer."

"True enough." Rebecca laughed. "Look at us, arranging play dates."

"Someone's gotta do it, right?"

"You two are precious." Chrissie shook her head, sending a ripple through her loose curls. "The other thing Ronnie floated was running convoys out to here, but it sounded like she didn't like the idea much."

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah. I think this is a little far. Ongoing convoys would be risky work. Why not just make it one big haul and move everyone, bacon and eggs and milk producers and all."

"You know, I'd accuse you of thinking with your stomach, but mine doesn't disagree, so... I'll just move on to the other big question that's vaguely related. Even with the folks here helping feed us, they don't have a lot to go around, and we're already halfway through what we brought with us. Ronnie wants to know what our plans are, and I think we should figure it out soon."

"So we gotta fish or cut bait."

"Yeah. And to be honest, I'm not gonna stick my nose in your business too much, but you know I adore you both. I don't think it's doing either of you much good lingering here."

Rebecca glanced at Sam — who gave her a "she's not wrong" eyebrow lift — and nodded again. "You're probably right. Did you tell Ronnie anything more about what happened?"

"No, I respect your wishes about that, even though I don't entirely agree with you. She might be comfortable bossing you around, but that's not my thing."

Rebecca sighed. "Thanks. I'm sorry for putting you in that position."

Christine shrugged. "I'll manage."

"Well, I'm still sorry. Are you and Pat good if we keep going?"

Some of Christine's usual jovialness was back after her brief terseness. "You might have noticed that we're the only two who aren't wearing bandages, no?"

Rebecca gave her A Look. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, silly. We're with the two of you all the way, whichever you decide."

Rebecca didn't protest this time. Maybe everyone's lectures really had gotten through? "Okay. We should probably think hard about the guys, though. Landry for sure, with his ribs."

"Definitely, even if our rides are cushier than we're all used to."

Rebecca looked up at the barn as they neared it. "Hey, do you think you can talk to Dylan about the whole 'move to another farm guarded by guys with guns' thing? You're probably in a better place to make a positive sales pitch."

"Sure. But you don't wanna go with the whole guilt trip approach?" Christine glanced at Rebecca's face. "Okay, sorry. Just kidding. I can try to help, but I think it'd still be better if you were there too. You know more about what Tierman and all of them are doing, and have spent more time with Amira. I can try to do most of the talking, but if she has questions..."

"Yeah, okay. That'll work. Sam, wanna come with? You were bonding with Jack a bit."

Sam shrugged. "If you need me, but Epstein wanted me to help him hotwire two of the trucks that they can't find the keys to. He wants to pull down the unstable parts of the house we blew up so they can scavenge what's left more safely."

"That's probably a better use of your time." Rebecca held out her hand and squeezed Sam's when she took it. It felt to her like Sam was much less worried today, but if anyone understood just how much potential people had for blaming themselves for something not their fault, it was Rebecca.

Seemed to her like the smarter someone was, the better they were at convincing themselves of how terrible they were — and Sam had intellectual horsepower in spades.

**

Between Sam and Epstein, hot-wiring two trucks and a minivan was a cakewalk. He mostly just needed someone with two functional upper limbs, but she reckoned having a would-be electrical engineer doing his hands-on work was a nice bonus.

She was walking back from the tractor shed she and Rebecca had taken cover behind during their approach, figuring she'd see who was around and look for something else useful to do. Worst case she'd just make her way to the barn if nothing interesting popped up along the way, and hang out somewhere a few feet away from Rebecca and well in her line of sight.

She was brooding over that latest heart-hurting development as she passed the farmhouse, so after a quick glance told her Landry wasn't on his usual hammock and Pat and Chris weren't around, she hardly noticed the random unfamiliar teenager sitting on the front steps. Until they spoke.

"Hey, uh, thank you!"

Sam slowed, but didn't stop. "Huh? for what?" She glanced the girl over — shoulder-length brown hair, maybe fifteen, sixteen, wearing jeans that might have been ripped before the apocalypse and a nondescript hoodie.

"You're one of the soldiers, aren't you? That got rid of Mags and everyone?"

She didn't have time for this. Well, no. She didn't have patience for this. She had exactly too damned much time just that moment. "Not a soldier, kid. But sure, you're welcome."

"I saw you though, you were upstairs!"

Sam stopped so abruptly she was off-balance — one foot having just landed, her weight starting to transfer to it — and lurched to recover. "Up... stairs?" She glanced up at the second floor and its broken window in realization. Remy said there'd been a kid up there, behind her, that's why she was running towards her.

"Yeah, I recognize your hair from after the lights turned back on. It was still pretty dark and you look way different in, like, regular clothes but it was you."

Sam shifted her weight back to a comfortable stance, looking back over her shoulder without turning around. "You were the kid up there."

"Uh, yeah. I'm trying to thank you for saving me. You slow or something?" The girl flipped one side of her hair back over her shoulder and gave Sam a look she knew very well — the one bullies that age gave the nerdy kids in class.

You've got to be kidding. "You don't owe me a damned thing, kid. You owe my girlfriend, and a lot. She paid a high price saving you and you'd probably be dead otherwise."

"Huh?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry. Do you need me to speak slower? Next time you're getting rescued in the middle of a goddamned gunfight, do everyone a favor stay the fuck down, will you?"

"What's your problem, lady? Why are you being such a bitch?"

That fucking does it. Sam rounded on the little snot, tromping forward until she was at the base of the stairs, eyes roughly on an even level. Her left hand was clenched tight at her side while she jabbed a finger on her right towards the kid, and she could feel a headache coming on fast. "My problem is that you almost got yourself killed, and she got hurt saving your ass, you little shit. That's what my problem is. So don't fucking thank me."

She saw the kid's eyes go wide, noticed her posture shift into a fearful lean away. Well good, that made two people she scared. After glaring for another second with her jaw set and nostrils flaring, Sam spun with a wordless snarl and stormed off down the hill, trying to rub the pain and irritation from her temples.