The next morning, Luke pulled up to the grocery store and found Brando and Lionel already waiting outside.
Brando had driven up in a plain white cargo van with so random cleaning-company logo slapped on the side. He was humming to himself, cheerfully hauling boxes and equipnt into the back.
Lionel, anwhile, was glued to Paki like they were saying goodbye forever.
"I'll be right here waiting for you," she said, looking into his eyes like she ant every word.
Lionel looked ready to cry. "Of course. Once my na's completely cleared, I'll co straight back to you."
Paki stood on her toes for a kiss, but Lionel gently blocked her with his hand, scratching the back of his head in embarrassnt.
"Uh… I ate way too much yesterday. You'd probably just taste smoked ham right now."
Paki blinked, then burst out laughing and punched him lightly on the arm.
Right then the shop door opened.
The old lady stepped out carrying a thick, handmade book. She walked straight up to Luke and pressed it into his hands.
"This is everything I know. I wrote it all down. Hope you won't need it on this trip."
Luke took the heavy book and smiled. "Grandma, this gift is way too valuable."
She waved him off, her eyes softening as they landed on the bone doll clipped to his belt—the one made from Jason's purified remains.
"I just want soone to carry the real knowledge forward. That's the only reason I ever taught Vera anything in the first place. Use it well."
Luke nodded seriously.
Then she turned to Lionel. The warmth vanished in an instant, replaced by pure disgust.
"You. Stop making out and get over here and move this stuff!"
She marched back inside with Paki and dragged out a massive picnic cooler, dropping it on the ground with a thud.
"Smoked at, cheese, and dark bread. Pace yourselves. I don't want you turning into dried corpses halfway there and embarrassing ."
Luke started loading his own supplies into Brando's van. Thanks to his upgraded ability, the fancy liquor bottles filled with holy water now glowed with a soft golden light in the morning sun. They looked more like expensive art pieces than weapons.
Brando's eyes went wide. He leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Mr. Luke… these holy relics are gorgeous. They must be worth a fortune."
Luke kept a straight face. "Of course. I've been saving these for decades—my best stock. For this trip I'm basically emptying the vault."
Brando sucked in a sharp breath, looking genuinely moved and shocked.
"Thank you. You're too good to , Mr. Luke. Once my experint succeeds, I swear—even if I have to cheat on my taxes—I'll get you a working prototype."
"No need to go that far."
Luke patted his shoulder like a humble hero.
Everything was loaded. The three of them climbed into the van and pulled away from the grocery store.
The little town was still buzzing—scholars from every direction still arguing over the zombie goo like it was the Super Bowl. None of them noticed the three key players quietly leaving town.
On the road, Brando drove while excitedly rambling about every terrifying legend he'd read about the nuclear test site, sounding like a kid on a field trip. Lionel, still feeling guilty about his half-assed goodbye to Paki, was shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate. Luke just leaned back, put on AC/DC's Highway to Hell, and flipped through the old lady's book while tapping the spine to the beat.
This ti he wasn't just reacting to trouble. He was going out to et it on his own terms.
Felt pretty damn good.
They drove all day and into the night. The scenery changed from woods to endless open wasteland. Just as they crossed into Texas, a state trooper car pulled them over.
Two Texas Rangers walked up.
"Routine check. License, please."
Brando handed it over. One older trooper checked it while the younger one circled to the passenger side and yanked open the sliding door.
He scanned the interior: Lionel passed out looking miserable, Luke completely absorbed in an old book and not even glancing up, and a whole bunch of fancy glowing bottles stacked in the back.
"What's all that stuff?" the young trooper asked, voice hard.
Brando leaned over with a friendly smile. "Just so cleaning chemicals. You saw the van—we're making a delivery for a cleaning company."
The trooper clearly didn't buy it. "Cleaning products co in fancy bottles like that?"
Brando chuckled. "Our company's trying to go high-end private. We picked out nice packaging on purpose."
The young trooper gave him a long, suspicious look, then shut the door and walked back to the older ranger.
"Three nerds with a van full of flashy bottles. Probably running so kind of smuggling operation."
The older trooper shook his head and handed the license back to Brando.
"Smugglers aren't this stupid. Don't waste ti on them."
He knocked on the window and spoke directly to Brando, his tone turning serious.
"One more thing. The next town up the road is struggling economically. They're not real fond of outsiders. Keep your heads down."
"Got it. Thanks for the heads-up."
Brando rolled the window up fast and stomped on the gas.
Once they were a safe distance away he let out a long breath.
"Jesus Christ, that scared the hell out of . First ti I've ever been pulled over like that."
Luke didn't even look up from his book. "Your lie was so bad a five-year-old could've seen through it."
Brando's face turned bright red. "What was wrong with my lie? 'Private high-end cleaning company' explains why we're out in the middle of nowhere and why the bottles look expensive. It's airtight!"
Luke flipped a page. "Yeah. I thought you were about to say you were selling encyclopedias door-to-door."
"Hey, that's actually a good idea—maybe next ti…"
Brando caught himself, scratched his head, and focused on driving again.
Lionel woke up in the back seat, rubbing his eyes. "What? Encyclopedias? Are we switching to selling books now?"
Nobody answered him.
The van kept rolling across the wasteland. As night fell they finally rolled into a small town.
Unlike the resort vibe of Crystal Lake, this place felt dead and broken—everything scread decay and hard tis.
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