Grace didn't dare move anymore than she already had. A woman stood next to the man, holding her own gun and pointing it at Hunter. Grace could only hope that Hunter was smart enough not to do anything stupid.

"I said get up." The man repeated his order.

Grace slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. The man backed away slightly, giving her a little more space to get herself up. Grace's legs screamed in protest. The days of walking and little sleep were taking its toll, but she did her best to get up slowly and evenly, keeping her hands raised. Hunter followed her lead.

"Walk." The man jerked his gun, motioning for her and Hunter to turn around and head in the other direction.

They both did as he asked, and as they turned, the pair made brief eye contact. Hunter looked more panicked than Grace would have liked, but she doubted she looked much better. With their backs to their captors, Grace felt a shove against her shoulder blade, and she started walking to the farmhouse at the edge of the field.

As they slowly made their way across the field, a million thoughts ran through Grace's head. The couple currently holding them prisoner gave off a very different vibe than the guards they met the night before. The guards were clearly out to intimidate people. These two just seemed to want to defend their territory.

Still, Grace couldn't be that empathetic toward them. They were holding her prisoner with a shotgun.

As they reached the house, the woman moved ahead of the group to open the front door. She carried both Grace and Hunter's bags on one arm, her shotgun in the other. The man guided the pair through the door.

The woman pulled out two chairs from around the small table and put them side by side. "Sit," she ordered.

Grace and Hunter sank into the chairs side by side. Grace saw Hunter glance at her out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her own gaze trained on their captors.

The more Grace studied them, the more at ease she felt. They clearly weren't soldiers, and now that they were all in the house together, they looked as unsure as Grace felt.

"Who are you?" the man finally said.

"We're just passing through," Grace tried to reassure him, "and then found ourselves travelling later than we expected, so we just needed a place to sleep. We don't mean you any trouble."

The man snorted. "No trouble? Right. Scouts never want any trouble. The trouble just comes after them."

"Scouts?" Grace couldn't help but ask the question. "We're not scouts or anything," she urged. "Like I said, just passing through."

"Like we're going to believe you." The woman spoke this time. "You're not the first ones we've seen around here. You're just the only ones stupid enough to get caught. But you're not taking our land." Her voice rose in anger, but it also shook.

Grace narrowed her eyes and took more notice of the firearm. It trembled in her hands. Glancing back at the man, he had sweat running down his forehead.

They were afraid.

"So, what is we are scouts?" Grace questioned, getting an idea. "You think you'll be in any less of a mess if you kidnap us?"

The man and woman looked at each other. Their fear grew with her words.

"Grace, stop."

The other three all looked at Hunter with his words. Like Grace, he studied the couple, but unlike her, he looked troubled, concerned even.

"We're not hear for your land, really," he urged. He kept his voice low and even. "We wanted a place to lie low, where no one who would want to harm us could find us." He looked around the small house. "And based on your reaction to our presence, I'm guessing you don't want any trouble either."

The man's firearm dropped a fraction of an inch. "You're not with them?" he questioned, a line of doubt running through his suspicion.

"If by 'them' you mean the people who guard the borders and run operations in the territory, you're correct." Hunter spoke openly and honestly. "We're vehemently against them, as a matter of fact."

Silence fell. Grace's heart beat wildly in her chest. She understood the risk Hunter took, but it was a risk nonetheless. He just admitted to two complete strangers that they were against the fascists who had control. And if he was wrong about the couple's feelings about the government, things were about to get very messy.

"If you don't like the way things are here, why would you come here?" the woman asked. She had exchanged curious glances with the man, and Grace could almost hope to think that they were beginning to believe them.

"We came from down south," Hunter explained. "We're looking for someone, we think she's here in the valley somewhere."

The woman had put down her gun and was going through Hunter and Grace's packs. "No weapons," she told the man.

The man put down his weapon as well, staring at Grace and Hunter.

Grace dared to speak again. "If you don't like things here, why do you live here?" she asked hesitantly.

The man let out a joyless laugh. "No choice," he said. "We lived here before this damn apocalypse and stayed after it happened. The chaos grew around us, and by the time we decided it would be better to leave, it was too late. Farmers aren't allowed to leave," he explained at Grace and Hunter's confused expressions, "they need all the food they can get here. Anyone with useful skills can't cross the border."

"So, why did you think we were here to take over your land?" Grace asked.

"Because that's what happens," the woman said. "Farms supply a portion of their food for a while, but then they get greedy and want the whole farm. Usually, it's if they've inducted someone into their ranks who has farming experience, and then they can just control the person growing the food instead of negotiating with them."

"And when you say 'they,'" Hunter said, "you mean the government here?"
"I wouldn't really call it a government," the man said. "Just a bunch of bullies. But there is a somewhat decentralized government system here. A few big groups rule sections of territory. Just look for the people with the ridiculously large guns."

"Well, that's who were trying to avoid," Grace assured them. "And who we think might have caused the person we're looking for the disappear."

With a sigh, the man put down his gun as well. "I have to be honest, you two don't exactly look like fascist spies," he grumbled.

"My name's Hunter," Hunter offered, "and this is my friend Grace."

"Jackson and Carrie," the man said in reply.

"Right, Jackson, Carrie," Grace said, deciding to try and push her luck a bit, "you haven't heard anything about the Ocean Train, have you?"

"A train?" Carrie asked. "I haven't heard of any trains in years."

"Well, it's not an actual train," Hunter explained. "That's just what they call it. It's more of a service that takes people south, provides safety in numbers."

"And you think they came through here?" Jackson asked.

"They don't usually," Hunter said. "But this time we think they did, we don't know why. But no one has heard from them in months."

"Well, I don't know about any train," Jackson said slowly, looking over at Carrie. "But a few months back, there was a lot of excitement over something. A lot of cars going up and down that main road you two came up on. And then a week or so later, a total lockdown of the area, armed guards making sure people stayed inside and off the roads. No explanation."

"The timing fits," Grace muttered, half to herself. "Do you know where all this was centered at?"

Carrie shook her head. "We were here the whole time, and didn't want to ask."

Grace sat back in her chair, relaxing just slightly. "If we wanted to find the center of said commotion, would you have any idea of where to point us?"

Jackson and Carrie glanced at each other. "Maybe," Jackson said. "But it's suicide."

"Maybe." Hunter spoke again, iron in his voice this time. "But we've come this far."

"And you believe what we're saying?" Grace confirmed. "That we have nothing to do with those people?"

"Oh, we believe you," Jackson said. "And, to be honest, you don't really give off the authoritarian vibe."

"Probably one of the nicest things I've ever been told," Grace said, allowing her stiff muscles to form into a smile. "But you still haven't said if you'll help us or not. Or, if you can, even."

"We'll help you," Carrie spoke up. "We all know what it's like to lose someone."

The pain in Jackson and Carrie's eyes was clear, so Grace didn't pry. Hunter was smart enough to do the same. "Thank you," Grace said, softly.

"But first," Carrie said, sweeping past the tense moment, "you two look dead on your feet." She took out some bread and a sack of oranges. "Eat."

Neither Grace nor Hunter argued. They both dug into the food, neither realizing how just how hungry they had been. They hadn't stopped to eat much the day before, and now, settling down after a morning of stress and excitement, the hunger was catching up to them.

"So, you have just been here since the bombs went off?" Grace asked after devouring half a loaf of bread and two oranges. "Giving part of your crop to big bullies with guns?"

Jackson smirked. "You have to give us a bit more credit than that," he said. "We don't exactly just hand over the cream of the crop."

"So, what do you do?" Hunter asked.

"There's not a lot we can do," Jackson admitted. "But, if they happen to get half a load of moldy produce, well, there's not a lot we can do about that, now can we? Just bad luck."

Grace let out a small laugh. "Passive resistance is just as important as active."

"Ah, so you are smart," Jackson said.

"Not to mention," Carrie said, "you two aren't exactly the first travelers we've sheltered and fed, travelers who wanted to avoid certain groups of people."

"Yeah, although everyone we've met so far has been going the other way," Jackson pointed out. "No one's been dumb enough to sneak in."

"So, which one is it? Am I smart or dumb?" Grace questioned.

"I wouldn't be so cheeky with anyone else you meet in this area," Jackson warned her, but he looked almost amused.

"Oh, trust me, I know."

Awkward silence fell at Grace's grim comment.

"How did you get across the border, anyway?" Carrie finally asked.

"We got these at Cherry," Grace said. She pulled out her fake I.D. card and handed it to Jackson. "Seemed to work."

"Since you're not dead, I would say so," Jackson said. He inspected the card and then handed it to Carrie. "But that's good work." He pulled out a card of his own and handed it to Grace.

Hunter peered over Grace's shoulder as she inspected it. It looked identical to the ones she and Hunter had.

"You'll want to be careful with these, though," Carrie said, handing the card back. "We're too far north, but further south at the bigger checkpoints, they cross reference every card with a master list of everyone living here. If you're not on that list, then you're in trouble."

"But we should be good here?" Hunter asked.

"You should be," Jackson said. "There's no copy of that list anywhere near here. So even if they wanted to check your cards, it would be a couple of days before word would get back up here."

"Thanks for the advice." Grace wondered what else they should know, what else could potentially get them killed.

"But it would be good for you to keep moving," Jackson said. "And we have a lot to tell you."