Morgan drove. He had been driving for a few days now. He drove towards the west, towards the coast, to the beautiful waves. Cold waves, different from the abnormal heat currently feasting on him and his car. All windows were opened, and there was little wind, the chances of being swarmed by sand were minimal. The first lie Morgan told himself, for he drove through a desert, and was thus always swarmed by sand.

Black asphalt, decaying stripes of white paint, and the occasional piece of trash were his only companions on this trip. These roads were empty, and he felt more lonely than ever. This was the second lie Morgan told himself, for he was accompanied by a plastic bottle of lukewarm water. A Colt M1878, two backpacks, and a canoe strapped to his roof. Not to mention the remains of his wife located in the trunk of his car.

The plastic bottle smelled funny, as if the water inside was some stale muck. Which it was not when Morgan traded it for a can of beans, it was ice-cold back then. If only he had brought along a proper cooling box, and a sun hat perhaps. He also should have asked for two bottles, lord knew when he came across another human being. This was the third lie Morgan told himself, as in the far distance, he could see a building with a figure standing next to it.

When the distance between him and the figure decreased, Morgan's weary eyes were struck with surprise. The building itself was an abandoned motel, a run-down crack house for desert junkies. This was not surprising of course, as no business could bloom in this desert. The figure was what struck him. A girl, the closer he got the younger she became. Dressed in dust-covered clothes, her hair bound together and sheltered with a plastic bag. Around her stood a few bags and even a suitcase, all covered with rags. As if the sun would melt them without protection. Morgan slowed down before coming to a stop. She blocked the road, standing still until she decided to take action. With small steps, the girl approached the driver's side of the car. With the window already lowered, Morgan leaned outside and waited. She stopped, her sun and sand-tainted face showed agony and desire. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She pointed at her mouth, and Morgan knew what to do.

"Just a sec' missy.."

He leaned back inside, grabbing the bottle of funny-smelling water. That was his fourth lie, for he grabbed the Colt instead.

After leaning outside again, Morgan was greeted by the barrel of an M16, almost borrowing itself in his left nostril. Her face was blank now, those begging eyes had turned into the coldest things this desert could produce. Taking the risk -because let's be honest, what did he have to lose?- Morgan showed her his barrel, much shorter but still deadly. She did not move nor blink, and Morgan spoke.

"You want the ride or the supplies?"

The duo kept their guns locked in the air.

"Both please."

She replied, her voice hoarse and dry.

"How 'bout just the ride?"

Like the fool he was, Morgan had forgotten to pull back the hammer of his Colt, which he now did. At least it underlined his words.

"Fine. Are you going to the coast?"

Her resistance started to crumble, and Morgan could see she was just another victim like him.

"Of course, the only way to outrun the yellow wave is to catch the blue one. Ya lowering the gun or what?"

With both regret and relief, the girl complied. Morgan doubted the scratched thing was even loaded. She now looked defeated but relieved at the same time, who knew how long she had been walking on her own? From the pile of luggage she only grabbed the suitcase, shoving it onto the backseat next to the backpacks. Having done that, she took seat next to Morgan, who reeked of sweat and wood.

"Could I still have that water?"

The engine rumbled, dust and sand were thrown in the air.

"Of course."

Morgan's ring-covered fingers switched gears, the car's dirty wheels crushed whatever was left behind. Silence settled for exactly 12 seconds.

"Do you know if it can be removed? The cones?"

The motel disapeared, swallowed by the road again.

"Last town I passed had a doctor telling me it could be removed, no idea how though."

This was his fifth lie. For the last town he passed had been empty, and his wife was still in his trunk, coned.

"Got anything to eat?"

The sun had started to sink behind those dark-brown mountains. In the distance, Morgan could see some buildings. A small town perhaps? Not that it mattered, not a single light came from the place, and he would not rest before he felt those blue waves.

"Take one of 'em backpacks and help yourself."

Both survivors had been eyeing eachother during the ride. A quick glance, question or request. Their names remained a secret to eachother, names did not matter anymore, and it would only make saying goodbye worse.

"Canned food?"

Her small, yet scarred hands held up shiny cans of peas and meat.

"Aye, my wife told me those would be safe to eat. Anything else could give us the cones."

His wife had told him many things about this plague that struck humanity. Without her, he would have stayed in that cozy cabin until the wave came to get him. He rarely visited town, unlike her.

"My dad said not even the canned food is safe, because there's liquid inside."

Morgan maneuvered around a dark car in the middle of the road, opened doors and empty seats. Oil was splattered on the ground, or at least, it looked like oil.

"We can't just starve to death either, here's a fork."

From a plastic bag between his feet, Morgan grabbed a silver fork. The bag contained other valuable items as well, the few things he had taken from his home. Back when he still thought there were people left to care about shiny things.

"My dad also said that the disease is made by nature."

Using a can opener, the girl now filled her mouth with sloppy sausages.

"That it's meant.. to help us."

Her words were obstructed by the fabricated meat, and suddenly Morgan remembered she was no object, but an actual child.

"Yeah? He should've taught ya some manners, close yer mouth."

She complied, swallowing words and food.

"My wife thought it was some government experiment gone wrong, since the pictures of those lobster-men showed up beforehand.. But personally I do not care what caused this mess, I just want to get out."

"Where's your wife now? I assume in the same place as my dad.."

She stated the death of her father like a simple fact. Even though her eyes told him otherwise, the rest of her body seemed to have moved on, as it was the only way to survive.

"Somewhat yes."

Morgan's eyes betrayed him as well.

"The cones consumed 'er body, and she'd rather die than become a living plant."

Darkness started to swallow the world, the car's lights were switched on and Morgan prepared for the worst part of the day.

"You can sleep if ya want, use my jacket as a pillow."

For the first time she smiled, tired yet warming. He swapped her empty can for his jacket, throwing the container out of his window afterwards. The girl quickly sunk into a deep sleep, lord knew how long she had have to stay awake. Morgan leaned forwards and groaned softly. Sleep had been absent to him for quite some time, as if his body did not need to rest anymore. Stress? Strength? Cones? Those thoughts alone kept him awake during the ride, and he was happy at least one of them would have a peaceful night.

This was his sixth lie, for the girl would never stop sleeping.