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Off the cuff, I’d guess we’d be looking at something like an hour or two of gathering and sawing a day.  At least.”
    “On top of finding enough food and water, keeping the car fueled, cooking, dishes, clothes . . .” she nodded regretfully.
    “I thought about maybe trying to look around for a generator.” he said as he snapped and slotted metal back together into the shape of a gun.  “That, plus an electric heater, and we’d just be down to having to fetch gas in.”
    “Same problem.” she said unhappily.  “Less risk of poisoning the room air, but I remember the figures I ran back in Knoxville.”
    “Those were big generators.” he interrupted.
    “True, but even if we can find a small one around here somewhere, it’ll still go through gallons a day.  A hundred and twenty days at even three gallons a day, which I doubt will be what we really need, is approaching four hundred.  That’s a lot of trips back and forth to a gas station.
    “Plus Isaac said something about how gas can go bad.  Brett mentioned something about it too.  I can’t explain it, but if that’s how it works, we could get into December or January and be stuck trying to keep the generator working with gas that won’t do the job anymore.
    “And even if neither of those are insurmountable problems, we’re still faced with the noise of running a generator all winter.”
    “It’ll attract zombies.”
    “Probably.” she agreed.  “And if not zombies, then other survivors for sure.  Anyone out and about who notices a working generator is almost certainly going to investigate.  And they might not be in a merely curious mood when they get here either.”
    Austin nodded again.  “All excellent points.  So spill it.”
    She blinked at him.  “What?”
    “I know you far too well by now.  You’ve always got a plan.”
    Jessica felt her cheeks heating a little again.  “You’re the one who knows what he’s doing.”
    “We’ve already had that conversation a bunch, and I won every time.  You’re in charge.” he smiled as he fitted the last few pieces of the submachine gun into place.  “And you don’t bring something like this up unless you’ve got an idea about how to resolve it.  Not without starting the conversation with something like ‘give me an idea here’.”
    She shot him the finger, and his grin broadened.  He finished with the MP5, loaded and safed it, then laid it next to him on the bed.  “Come on Jessica, spill.  We don’t want to rely on a generator, die in our sleep from carbon monoxide, spend the entire winter cutting and chopping wood, or draw a lot of attention; so what’s the plan?”
    “I think we should leave Georgia.”
    Now it was his turn to blink in surprise.  After a moment of consideration he spoke calmly.  “Where?  Head for South Dakota, look for the source of that signal we heard last week, try to find safety with the government’s rebuilding effort?”
    “No, south.” she said.  “The Dakotas are a long way from here, and we’d be heading into worse winters, not better.  If that message doesn’t pan out, then we’ll have taken a lot of risk and effort for a net loss.”
    They had turned up a wind-up weather radio in one of the houses; it was powered by turning a crank that generated electricity.  While fiddling with it, Jessica had heard a transmission that purported to be what was left of the government broadcasting out of South Dakota.  She hoped it was, and that they stuck with their stated plans to work on clearing the zombies from the country; but she couldn’t rely on it.  Even if they were serious, she couldn’t count on help just materializing to save them.
    Not a chance.  She’d take help if it showed up; but between now and then, she’d do everything she could to hang on until it got here.
    “South.” he mused.  “How far?”
    “Central Florida, at least.” Jessica answered.  “Past Tampa, at a minimum.  Maybe all the way down