Send us Fan Mail The highway doesn’t feel empty, it feels abandoned on purpose. Jack is driving north on the I-81 corridor with a bruised chest under his body armor, a half tank that’s vanishing fast, and a cab full of things that matter now: food, weapons, a crate of chickens, and Mr. Rogers watching everything like he understands more than he should. He keeps checking the mirrors, waiting for headlights that never appear, while his mind keeps replaying the sound of a body hitting the floor ...