"I'm fine!" replied Wayne. "Not so sure about the cougar though," said Wayne, glancing down at the dead animal before him.

Then the reality of the situation came to him. Wayne wanted to get back to his camp. But at the same time he wanted to get the cuts on his arm fixed up. His camp was about 4 miles back, while the survivor's had their camp just right up the road from where he was. Join the survivors or try and make it back to his camp? Wayne hated people, but at the same time now that they were aware of him - assuming they weren't already aware of him snooping around here - they could easily track him back to his camp. This was most certainly about picking the lesser of two unfavorable decisions on Wayne's part. Wayne thought that maybe he could just let the survivors bandage him up and then go back to his camp, but he reminded himself about them probably being able to track him now. His final decision: join up with the survivors, and maybe they wouldn't be too pissed with him spying on them, assuming they already knew he was doing that.

"Argh! Son of a motherfuck... fine. I'll tag along."

Wayne then started walking alongside the survivors.

"Sounds like you muchachos had a nice landing back there," commented Wayne on the fact that two of them looked like they just freshly escaped the nearby plane crash. "Were you guys going to Camp Pendleton, or did things go south there too?"