"Probably," Abby echoes, shooting him an apologetic look, "Look, it's- most infected don't live long enough to actually become bloaters, so they're usually in places nobody has been able to get into for years, where they have time to..." for lack of a better word, "cook. And I know Seattle like the back of my hand, so we're not gonna go anywhere near spots like that."

So he doesn't have to worry, is what she's saying. About bloaters, anyway.

But spores? "Yeah, they're fatal. Quick. It really only takes a couple of breaths to start the process, so we're not gonna be taking any walled off shortcuts either.

Ellie and I, we know what we're doing." They're young, of course. Abby is twenty-two years old, Ellie only slightly older than that, but they've both lived their entire lives like this. Her expression is calm, level. "We're not gonna walk you into anything you can't handle. If shit happens, it happens. We take it as it comes."