Stubborn and resigned, Dean's parents had told him over the phone that they weren't going to bother traveling with him. The Westins had lived in their old five-bedroom farmhouse for as long as their eldest son had been alive. There were too many unknowns for them to be comfortable abandoning the comfort of their home for the uncertainty of the road, and they had genuine worries that they might actually hinder the progress of their boy and his family. They decided it would be better to live through whatever may come in their home, but they offered whatever supplies they could spare to their son, which wasn't much, but the heavy foot locker full of old rocket motors from the days back when Dean and his father would build model rockets (some as large as 28' tall) might provide some needed firepower should they ever need the material for bomb-making. 

The elder Westins had invited Guinevere's mother to stay with them as well, but Julia Tyler told them she felt obligated to stay with her daughter and former son-in-law out of a sense of responsibility to their kids. While she recognized the hardships, she owed it to her grandchildren to persevere in order to help see them into a future that gave them every chance to survive and succeed possible. Dean was secretly relieved- while the old nag was a constant thorn in his side, it was really nice to have another adult to help care for the children and provide an extra set of eyes and ears. It was also a surprise because the woman had never displayed any hint of resilience and fortitude in the past that led him to believe she would be willing to go along with them.

So a few hours later, several shotguns, a handful of boxes of ammunition for them, and a mix of power, pneumatic, and hand tools, along with an extra air compressor were loaded up in the bed of one of the dump trucks. They had a generator as well, but it wasn't very mobile, and the two grandparents would need it in case they lost power. A few hugs and kisses and a tearful good bye from Dean's mother as well as the children, and the family was on the road once again- Dean and Genevieve each driving the massive military dumps with the bumper numbers that had been spray-painted onto them obscured while Julia drove between them in the Tacoma with the kids.

Once on the road, Dean wasn't sure where to head, but he knew he wanted to get further away from Yellowstone. His fears were only confirmed when he heard Three Dawg's voice over the radio warning that martial law had been declared in the states surrounding it.

Several other dedicated groups were out there already on the airwaves offering advice and shelter as well as trade opportunities- like the world had already ended. Dean thought it wouldn't be a terrible idea to put himself out there again.

"Ginga Ninja here," he said as he brought the mic to his mouth and tried to think of the best way to put his ideas into words, "The family and I are headed south, probably toward Arkansas. The Ozarks might provide a good amount of resources and shelter while still being out of the immediately fatal range of everything going on out West. I figure it's not a good idea to be closer to the ocean, especially in that region, but the weather shouldn't be deadly every winter. I don't know what to expect, really, in the coming weeks and months, but I figure I should probably be planning for the long haul. I don't know what I'm going to find, or if I'm going to find anything at all, but I figure Northern Arkansas has gotta be as good a place as any. If anyone out there wants to join me, I could probably use the manpower and knowledge. If anyone listening is already there, I'd appreciate any advice or hospitality you could offer. I don't want to be a burden, though, and it's gonna be hard to trust just about anybody in the coming days, so don't be offended if we turn you down."