Dinah turns her face from Jake, to Kristie, to Marcus, one by one, hoping that one of them might, any moment, open their mouth to say, 'well, ACTUALLY, I heard that...' or 'Oh, and we know that there's this ONE safe place...', but it didn't happen.<br/><br/>Aside from the desperate need to keep breathing and eating, the only motivation she'd had to keep walking down those looping miles of county roads was that, if she kept moving and didn't get killed, she'd find a safe place.  Governments could conquer nations, build lakes, travel to the moon.  There must be some solution.<br/><br/>Well, here was the solution; the shell of a Home Depot and some scrounged-up guns.  Maybe if she'd just stayed at the homestead...<i>no,</i>she remembered.  She'd seen a house or two surrounded, mobbed by those walking dead... she'd guessed, then, that staying in one place attracted them.  And a normal house couldn't hold out a mob...<br/><br/>They had to get out-- What they needed was a plan: transport, supplies, and a destination.  But the destination-- if they didn't have a safe place to go, then moving from one place to the other was no different than standing still.  Maybe even worse, as she'd learned by hiking for days on end.  No, these were the only people she'd found.  Two of them were from the military-- uniforms were ingrained in her mind with authority, control, and confidence.  How could she not stay?<br/><br/>She nods, keeping her composure with some difficulty.  "Alright..."  She swallows, bites her lower lip.  "OK, what do we have to do to make this place safe?"