[Her voice finds him through the darkness and road noise, somewhere deep in what must either be state forest or undeveloped land. It's hard to know what the time period is, except there's still a road, and he'll take that stroke of good luck. Long stretches of dirt and gravel aren't easy to drive but they'd be especially hard on Chrissy, he figures.]

Yeah. I'll find us a spot.

[He slows down to be better able to turn off the road if given an opportunity, then takes the first one that looks like it's on dry land, since so much out here is swamp. The side road becomes dirt quickly, covered in pine needles and sweetgum leaves, and he eases the bike to an even slower pace. He just wants to get them far enough off the highway that they can sleep without being found.

The road, it appears, is here on dry ground because here there is a cemetery. It must be the only suitable place for miles, otherwise there would be no reason to put one all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. He stops the bike in front of a worn sign and an unkempt hedge.]

Canoe Cemetery. Huh. Who names a cemetery after a boat?

[Well, the good news is it's really quiet here. The headstones in the bike headlights are ancient. Whoever is buried here, nobody comes to visit them anymore. It's so dark, he can't get a sense for how big the place is, and he doesn't really feel up to pulling in and having a look, but he takes the bike around the outside of the hedge and parks it under a towering old tree that has done them the favor of shading out the undergrowth, leaving a soft mat of dead leaves as the only ground covering.]

You mind if we're next to a cemetery? Seems pretty out of the way.