He grunts as he looks the place over, mixed resignation and disgust, and sits down on the mattress. It smells of mildew and there are a couple suspicious stains, but otherwise it doesn't seem untouchable. Inside the car the smell is a little better. There are a few candles in one corner and he reaches over, produces a zippo from his pocket and lights them, casting a flickering glow around the car.

He would have picked somewhere better if there was anywhere. But if Tom is right, if they can just make it through a couple of days.

Tom has to be right. There's no other option.

"We're here," he says flatly, arms resting on his knees. "Nothing to do about it now."