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.I’m debating all this when I see a dark smear along the middle of the road, and I know that’s where I hit the woman on our way out.I floor it, not thinking anymore, just hoping not to experience the same thing again.Nova opens up her window, levels the barrel of her gun out of it, and starts shooting.I don’t know if she’s aiming for anyone in particular or just shooting to scare the crap out of whoever is there.I know she’s a good shot, but she can’t seriously be hitting anyone at these speeds.I hit sixty miles an hour, feeling every bump in this old damaged road.I see shapes in the trees, movements of people, but I try to keep my eyes on the goal and keep driving forward, increasing my speed a little more.The sound of bullets ricocheting against the metal of the truck is unmistakable, but unlike last time I’m not frightened by it.I feel different from the woman that came out on this trip.I can’t say how—I mean, I can’t harden any more than I have these past few months—but something has definitely changed in me.Nova crouches down in her seat, a snarl on her face as she reloads her gun.I slouch down as low as I can while keeping a decent amount of control on the wheel—not an easy job at this speed, I’ll tell you.I hear Michael’s return gunfire from the back, and even over all the shooting I can hear him cursing something fierce, but we’re over the worst of it and thankfully nobody seems to have gotten hurt this time.At least I didn’t have to run anyone over.It’s all a little underwhelming, if I’m honest.That sounds stupid—I know, I know, I’m evil and insensitive, but I was all geared up for something really bad.The truck hits seventy and I look in my rearview mirror as we speed away, watching as several people come running from either side of the road.I can see them still shooting at us, but we’re too far away now and going way too fast for them to do any real harm, and all I can think is that they should probably save their ammo, fucking assholes.“They’re not real clever, these guys, are they?”Nova laughs loudly.“I wouldn’t think so.If they were, they would be laying better traps than these ones.”“Other than the throwing a random person in the middle of the road ones you mean?” I say with only a hint of humor because, you know, that’s not really funny.But sometimes you have to laugh or your brain gets fried from all the bad shit that keeps happening.She takes a deep breath.“Yeah, other than that.”“Desperate people do desperate things.Let’s be glad that they don’t have any real ammo.” I roll my eyes at the thought.These guys with big-assed guns would be a bad combination.“They’re like those really irritating little flies that hang around no matter how many times you swat them away.” She laughs.I laugh back because I couldn’t agree more.I ease off the gas, slowing to fifty miles an hour.Stopping for gas is never one of my favorite things, and I’d like to make it back without having to fill up again; leadfooting it isn’t going to help.I keep checking the rearview mirror to make sure we’re not being followed.Not that I really need to—Michael will be on high alert or whatever now, and he’ll take care of anyone that tries to follow us.He’s totally silent now, which is a good sign.We drive in silence for a while, both our thoughts wandering in their own directions.The only sound is the noisy-ass truck, which probably signals everyone and everything to our location.My ass is numb from the vibrations and my back and shoulders are getting stiff.I know we’re nearly back now, and I can’t wait.I want a long, hot shower, some decent food, and to see Mikey and Emily.My stomach sinks when I realize how much I’ve come to depend on them—not on their skillset or how they can help me, but on them being there, their affection and love.“Fuck me,” I whisper to myself.“Say what now?”I look at Nova, my face white.“I just realized that I give a shit.Like, really give a shit.”She stares at me for a minute before lighting a cigarette.“Happens to the best of us, darlin’.” She shrugs and looks sad again, even with the smile she flashes to me.“You’ve got to think—what would be the point in surviving if you didn’t give a damn.”I think about what she said, and know she’s right.If you don’t care, then you’re just surviving.And I don’t want to just survive, I want to live.I’ve done the whole surviving thing and it sucked: it wasn’t a life worth living.But now I have purpose again.With that purpose comes responsibility for other people, but I know I would be willing to do anything to help them survive—to live
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