“I’ve never been on a bike,” I say. “I mean, I’ve been on a bike but not a motorcycle.”“And why is that?” he asks. “Bugs. They get in your mouth, right? That’s just gross.” Chris makes a face.“If you ride around with your mouth hanging open, I assume that could be a possibility.”

“What’s your name?” I ask again. “Chris,” he says. “Chris Young.” I exhale dramatically, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. “I can take you,” I reply. “But if you try anything, I’ll shoot you right between the eyes. Seriously.” He almost smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Chris hops out of the vehicle, wearing a tight black tee. He pulls his hair back and throws his backpack over his shoulder, looking read to punch somebody out. Or maybe that's his happy face. I don't know.”

“I don’t know how it happened. Nobody does. There are only theories, empty rhetoric and doomsday prophecies. None of them are right, but none of them are completely wrong, either. They all have a grain of truth. All I know is where I was and what I was doing when it happened.”

“You're staring at me.""I am not. I'm just... thinking. Without blinking.”

“As long as we're both alive and our hearts are still beating, there's still a chance. I won't go down without a fight, and I know you won't either. That gives us a chance.”

“Your traveling companion, the soldier, is well trained. The two of you were planning something, weren't you?""Planning what? An evil scheme to steal all the Big Macs left in the McDonalds along 1-99?”