On the way into Pittsburgh, Joel stopped the truck. He contemplated turning around, but he didn’t. He kept driving through.

He should have turned around.

As soon as he gets past the interstate, another vehicle rams into the side of the truck. He knows the hunters were sitting around, waiting for somebody to trespass into their territory. After the sound of breaking glass, the only thing in his mind is Sarah and Tommy.

The night of the outbreak. Trying to escape. The car. The soldier. Tommy. Sarah.

The truck is totaled. The cassette player is still cranking out music. After a few moments, the fog lifts over Joel’s brain. He claws around the passenger seat for you, for a moment thinking you’re Sarah or Tommy.

“Hey. Hey, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Joel keeps asking you the same things over and over. He seems to be almost entirely out of it.