They've got time to kill on their way to Utah. Not an excessive amount, and nothing out of the way, but he's made a habit of taking the slower routes with the excuse that all the back roads have less traffic-- less trouble. Hunters don't populate areas too scare to be called towns, clickers only wander so far from their nests. As long as they can hunt enough wildlife to make up for a lack of packaged food, it's the smarter bet.

So when they hole up in a house about 30 miles out of Palisade and Ellie nods off under a heap of old blankets that've been left undisturbed for years, and when the sting in his side kicks him out of sleep at 5am, he takes his time scavenging for supplies. Even makes a stop out back to inspect the boathouse and unearths an old fishing kit and a pair of rods. Useful haul. Metal that's not rusted is a hard find, and he could use a little more scrap for some much needed repairs...

"C'mon kiddo, wake up." Joel toes at the edge of her makeshift bed, sunlight already seeping in to snuff out nearly every shadow in the room.