The assailant and Debra keep running until they can’t anymore. They are exhausted. They need water but make sure not to drink too much of the limited supply. He is unable to tell where in the dystopia they are. He thinks about all possible possibilities. He knows they will be searching for them shortly. The sun is glistening the sand before him, and it starts to blind him. Debra tries to get him to calm down about everything. “Try not to think about so many things at once, it’s just going to stress you out more,” she tells him. He sits down on the sand and rests his head on his fists. He thinks for a moment more before settling on the simplest idea. “We’ll head north until we reach the border.” She nods. She trusts his judgement about where it will be safe. They rest for a few minutes more before continuing on.