"So, do you know your way around here? Is there a Chevrolet Belair sitting around that we can use, or public transportation? DeWitt made it seem as though I wouldn't be finding a taxi anytime soon."
"The nearest town is Garden Grove, and it's about five miles east of here."
"Fine. We'd better start tumbling off, then. Which way is east?"
"Ultimate, we're not going to walk to Garden Grove."
"Fine. I didn't invite you anyway."
"Hold on. They're bound to pick us up soon. We have no food, nothing to drink, no money, as if we had a way to spend it. We may as well go back to Kite Lodge."
"I didn't find DeWitt the innkeeper back there very accommodating. Is he a friend of yours, too?"
"I've been trying to tell you, I'm not working with them. They forced me to come here, and yes, they told me to hook up with you. I just don't know what else to do," she exploded intensely.
"Ow. So, what is this place? Jackson's private resort?"
They had been creeping down the trail all this time, and found themselves on a moonscape.
"Let's go down to that dead fish and wait," he invited. "Maybe we can get the jump on them, if the Jackson devils don't see us first. I don't suppose you have a Nerf bat or anything useful like that on you?"
"What do you think?