[She lets him go on ahead so she can get her fill of the water. It isn't long before she's chasing along after him, just in time to hear him mention he doesn't want to spend all night in this place. All she does is nod in agreement, and hurries to pick up and put on his guitar so they can keep going.

It's easier to walk the bike on these awful dirt roads than to ride, and she's content to do that for a while. Silence seems to stretch on, and that's fine by her. There isn't very much to say when she's disappointed that train ended up being just a way to get rid of the dead.]

It makes me uncomfortable that there's so many ways people think they can get rid of people like us. Not that there's anyone else like us, but...that guy in New Orleans...this stupid train. Why is everyone so eager to think people who died want to move on and be at peace?

[It's stupid, and she just has to vent about that.]