Evan's haunting question is answered by an unbreakable silence; the sniper is running over to them, laden with weapons. A brief discussion suddenly cuts through the air, and hushed voices debate excitedly with how to react. 

The sniper reads them, and stops, holding his hands up. The group look over at him, and then to the pile of broken shamblers that had so readily thrown themselves on something in front of the sniper's house. Alex puts two and two together, and leaves the car to talk to the man - his gun concealed, but nevertheless ready. 

As fortune would have it, the sniper reveals himself as Roland J. Anderson. A brief conversation ensues, with Alex trying to verify the man's story, and after a couple of minutes gives an approving nod. Roland follows him back to the car. 

Garret, Evan, Roland, Sophia, Angie and Alex manage to squeeze themselves into the cruiser's five seats. By now, more shamblers have started to spill out of the school, and others are making their way over the gardens of the houses. Dozens of them, no - scores of them. Maybe even hundreds. No one bothers to count. 

Evan had translated the soldier's message, and many of the group concur with his results. Garret slams the cruiser into drive, and speeds off to the south, giving a throng of shamblers a wide birth.

The roads begin to empty as the car travels further away from the densely packed residential areas of Arlington, and soon the landscape becomes totally suburban. The group allow themselves to relax, but as they do, they realise they're missing someone.

Sylvia Velázquez, the City Councilwoman, is not among them. How they hadn't noticed, no one quite knows, but something must have happened. Maybe she was hit by the sniper as the group made for the car, and no one realised in all the panic, or maybe she was dragged away by some shambler in the school. No one remembers her screaming. 

No prayers are said, no words of condolence necessary. By now, the group are used to the people they know dying at the drop of a hat. Sylvia is just one more sad footnote in a book of sad footnotes. 

Garret tries to join the interstate, but the sheer volume of abandoned traffic forces him to turn around before they can even get onto the sliproad. Evan suggests South Shirlington Road, which proves to be mercifully empty. They procede with caution, not wanting to wrap themselves around a lamppost, but at the same time, not wanting to be caught unaware by the dead. As the crusier passes over a bridge, bringing the group into what Evan says is "Campbell Avenue", two things happen. 

Firstly, Garret hits something - not a man or a shambler, but a piece of debris. The front passenger side tire bursts with an audible bang, and the cruiser swerves to the right. Garret fights for the wheel, bringing it full-lock to the left, but the car overcompensates and sends itself travelling sideways. 

And then another car comes out of nowhere, speeding across from the right at a glorious 100 mph+. Whether the driver was a moron, or was distracted, no one knows - but they hit the cruiser at full speed which sends it flipping over onto its roof and skidding several feet. The other car flips too - its bonnet crunched all the way to the wind-shield, and disappears over the edge of the bridge. 

###6 Hours Later###

The odd sound of an owl rouses the group. 

Everything is dark, and everyone's minds are hazy. What the Hell happened? Where are we? Is it night? 

Then that dreadful groan sounds from the infinite darkness, followed by fleshy-footsteps on tarmac. Hastily, the group works to free themselves of the cruiser's wreck, fighting against the soreness of their battered bodies to escape becoming a shambler's tinned food.