"Okay, what's wrong with you?"

The question seized my attention from its meandering path. Unfortunately, turning my head to answer Fred resulted in overlooking the gaping pothole in the road. The crumbling rock gave at the edges, sending me toward a painful face plant. J.D. caught me an inch from kissing asphalt, hauling me upright. I wasn't too unsteady to miss the exchanged glance over my head between the two idiots.

"Maybe we should stop. We've been going without a break for a while now." J.D. was scanning my face, his expression identical to when Wolf Girl was bitten in the sewers.

"A rest, wouldn't be a bad idea, get our bearings." Fred hedged. Oh hell no, I knew it was bad news if they agreed on something.

"We not even halfway there, we can keep going, I'm fine." Silence reigned for a full minute before Fred jumped in front of me.

"You came out of the woods with a bloody nose and the artist formerly known as Bert. I think you actually are paler than last night, and you haven't responded to a single question until just now. Li, you are not okay!"

That drew me up short. They were talking to me and I didn't notice? I knew I was preoccupied imagining nightmare scenarios for our missing human but I couldn't believe I was that out of it.

Faraway screams tickled the back of my mind.

"Li!" Fred yelled in my face. His hands were on my shoulders. I shook him off in reflex.

"I know! I know something's off, but Wolf Girl is still out there. She needs us!" I hung my head, tapping my remaining skinless digits against my palm. I couldn't afford to worry about this new development now, or what it could mean. "One crisis at a time," I finished softly, studying the deep pothole by my feet. Man, that one was a tire eater.

Fred gave a helpless shrug, looking to J.D. for guidance.

"You won't be any help to her if you can't keep yourself together," J.D. interjected in a reasonable rumble. "No matter what happens, Wolf Girl will land on her feet. You should take a bit of rest while you can."

"You don't know that," I snapped, "Every minute we spend here arguing those bitches could be hurting her, or worse." I shut my eyes, squeezing them tight against the surge of images playing out in my head. Some of them did not star our missing feral child. What was going on with me?

"I know we kept you from walking off the road twice." J.D. muttered, as if he was reluctant to reveal the information to me.

Oh gods. What if...I shook myself, rubbing my arms, unable to give shape to the horrifying thought. The tenuous train of my thoughts was temporarily derailed by a pair of sinewy arms, lifting me up by my knees and mid back. I fell against the incredibly odd texture of Bert's chest, as he secured me in a 'new bride' carry and waltzed pass two bewildered faces.

"Did he just..." J.D. hissed.

"Like bloody prince charming." Fred answered. A beat passed before he stage whispered, "Should we stop him?"

"Do you really want to?"

"Well at least she's letting him carry her."

"I can still hear you two," I said, surprisingly relaxed in Bert's hold. I patted his chest. "I promise we'll find them both."

Bert grunted, keeping his pace while the other two followed. Truth be told, I had no idea what kind of bond Bert and Ernie actually had, but it kept them together when they were gibbering corpses so it had to be a strong one. I knew I was not in the best of shape when I couldn't argue with him for carrying me. My head was a mass of shifting sand, full of faceless screams and incoherent whispers. I could use a good cry right about now, blubbery and snotty, and afterward I would feel ten times better. My eyes remained open and dry, staring at the wavering pavement. The thought snuck up on me.

What if it's wearing off?

I'd spent who knew how many years as a mindless zombie, granted a few days reprieve only to slip back now. Would I start to rot again? Please, no.

"You're going to be okay," said Fred about two inches from my head.

I flailed like a startled cat, right out of Bert's hold, landing with a graceless splat on the road.

"You suck, Fred," I mumbled through a mouthful of pebbles and pine needles.

"I was being supportive," he griped, helping me to my feet.

"Your support nearly gave me road rash," I said, brushing the dirt off my knees. "Could you make a little noise on approach next time?"

"Sure." His voice trailed off. I looked up to find him staring at the other side of the highway, and followed his gaze to the same damn cabin J.D. and I passed before.

"Does it look familiar to you, too?" I whispered aware the others were hovering nearby, pondering our exchange.

"Not familiar," said Fred, "Identical."

We looked at each other, bolting for the cabin at the same time.

"What the hell guys!" J.D. called, jogging to catch up as Fred jiggled the door handle.

"It's locked."

J.D. made a face. "Seriously?" His fist shot out. There was a sharp crack as the lock separated from its wooden fitting.

"I could have done that," Fred mumbled. J.D. rolled his eyes, pushing the door open.

The three of us stared.

"Huh," said J.D. taking a step into the immaculate room. "Did you two recognize this place?"

This 'place' was a cozily furnished one room cabin, complete with a small kitchenette and water closet. There was no heavy coating of dust, or ransacked drawers or cabinets. The bed was neatly made. There were a few clean dishes in a sink side dish rack. The air didn't smell musty, but lived in.

Fred and I stepped inside, letting the broken door swing shut behind us. Bert would alert us if anything approached, this was too odd to ignore.

"That little station wagon we had was the only working vehicle we could find for miles. It was parked right by a cabin just like this one," said Fred, his expression as mystified as I felt. "Except that cabin was abandoned. This..." He gestured to a well-worn paperback of Catch-22 perched on the arm of the lone easy chair beside the cold wood stove.

I ran my fingers over the creased cover, wondering how long it sat here. "What is this place?"

"Waystation 23," J.D. answered. We turned to find him crouched beside a desk, fiddling with the knobs of an old c.b. radio.

Fred blinked at him. "Where did you come up with that nugget of knowledge?"

"That's what it says in the log book," said J.D. pointing a finger to the open spiral notebook and slightly chewed pencil.

"Oh, sweet!" Fred snatched it up, flipping through the last few pages. His face lit up with excitement. "It's like a border patrol or something. There is a logged check in and check out every few weeks. See the last check in here is 'C.M.' Someone was here!"

"Yeah, they might not be here anymore," J.D. punctuated his bit of pessimism by hitting the table. "Think you can get this radio working, Whiz Kid?"

Fred crossed his arms. "Seriously?" He nudged something under the desk with his foot. The radio coughed to life with a spat of static. J.D. peered under the desk and scowled.

"I couldn't have started the generator myself."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Yeah but you didn't big guy. Now let's see who is out there." He clapped his hands together, and began to turn the radio knobs. The cabin filled with varying screeches through the dead channels. The continued electronic fizz sounded hollow in my ears, putting another handful of doubt on my hopes of finding humanity.

"We're wasting time," I said, eyeing the door.

"One more minute," Fred didn't take his eyes off the radio.

J.D. sighed through his nose, rubbing his forehead. "Come on, Fred, we need to go." He turned to join me.

"Wait!" Fred shouted after us, shouted since the next channel erupted in a desperate crackling plea.

"This is Fort Braydon requesting aid, I repeat; Fort Braydon is under attack by unknown hostiles. We require militarized back up. This is Captain Artherton of Fort Braydon requesting aid..."

"Holy shit," said J.D. "We need to-"

The door rocked open, splintering off its hinges. Bert tumbled into the cabin, limbs akimbo, landing in an awkward sprawl on the woodstove. His entrance was followed by an all too familiar red head, who executed a perfect somersault through the doorway. J.D. had his gun trained on her before she finished.

She came up with her hands above her head, open and unarmed. "Wait, I come in peace!" Ginger cried, her lovely face streaked with grime. "Please, I need your help!

Fred bludgeoned her with the radio.