Ben Farrel was the first of the three survivors to speak up after I had rescued them from the greyhound bus. "the names Ben" he said as he shook my hand with a firm but trembling grip. He was a pretty big man kinda lumber jack looking if you ask me. with the beard and black knit cap and plad flanel shirt, he realy looked like Paul Bunion to me. "man we realy cant thank you enough! another day and we would of died of dehydration if those things dident get us first" he said Ben continued to tell me his story of how he was acualy a merchant shipping sailor and was taking the bus to his next port of leave in chicogo. He said he always took the bus becouse he coulent stand the thought of his classic 68 camaro sitting in the parking lot of the ship yard for nine months wile he was out to sea. when he saw the hord comming down the freeway five days ago He was the only one to make it back on the bus and lock the door before the bastards could get to him. maranda and chelsey were fast asleep in the back when the bus had stoped. yes the other two survivors were a mother and young daughter. maranda was devorsed mother traveling acrossed country, back to her mothers in main, running from an abusive husband. Her daughter couldent of been more than nine or ten. Looking into that little girls eyes I couldent help think of my own son and wife and what had become of them? I had left my wife three years ago and moved 3025 miles away from the sunshine state of Florida. Its was hard being a long distance father but I felt it was better for every one that way. so there we were four people so different from each other but brought together by fate and the simple need human need to fight to stay alive. Driving down the freeway cluttered with abandond cars, dead bloody bodies, and the inevetable zombie hord. We were determand to live and to survive!