“C’mon, kid.”

You’re abruptly woken open by a light kick to the side, courtesy of your travel companion.

As you sit up from your resting position, you can barely make out the silhouette of Silas moving across the motel room and towards the exit.

“The area’s about to be overrun by a hoard coming in from the west,” He turns to face you in the darkness, slinging both of your backpacks over a broad shoulder, “We need to get moving.”

Noting your lethargy, the older man adds, with a slight inflection of irritation: “Now.”