<strong>"We need to get to my house. I have three floors dedicated to being impregnable to survive something like this; or just keep me at home. I hate being outside. It's in Brookline, and I have enough food there to last for months, a water filtration system, not to mention enough stockpiled ammunition to keep us safe for the foreseeable future. Plus the walls are eight inches of poured concrete with rebar and steel reinforced doors."</strong>He said all these things as if they were perfectly normal. It didn't seem odd to him to be as overly cautious as he was. What seemed odd was what was already happening.<strong>"We could try taking the green line underground to get there, if we can either jack a subway car or just take the tunnels. They might not be down there... but I don't have a flashlight or anything. If we could've stopped at the airport car rental places, we could have taken a vehicle and just driven there, or refueled your ride... but that place is one big inferno now."</strong>He seemed to like talking, or at least did it an awful lot. In truth it was him trying to cope with an overwhelming need for control which was currently being denied him. He was a neurotic control freak and nothing that had happened today was going his way. The stewardess had even spilled one of his complimentary beverages on him. She was dead now. They were all dead. Every last one of them was dead except for him. What if the whole world turned out like that airplane?<br/><br/>It didn't pay to follow that line of thought.<strong>"Barring that, I have a gun, and I know that we could find an empty hotel room in which to wait out the rain, but deadbolts did not necessarily do enough to hold back these things on the plane."</strong>He sighed, and his stomach rumbled. He wished he had taken some of those peanut packets like he had suggested, but that was the past now. He was certain he'd acquire food at some point, even if he had to wait until he got home. At least he'd had a tomato juice.