As he drove, Dr. Petrie sang softly, under his breath. The day faded into early evening, and early evening faded into night. He drove through the Holland Tunnel and into Jersey. He drove south-west, across a derelict and deserted continent, towards the distant end of the plague zone, if there was one. It seemed, for a while, that the whole of America was his, and that he and Prickles were the only people left alive.
It was when he stopped singing that Prickles woke up. She looked at him, in the dun green light of the instrument panel, and he was sweating and pale.
'Daddy?' she said.
He didn't answer.
'Daddy? What's the matter?'
Dr. Petrie smiled as much as he could. There was a sharp pain in his groin, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could drive. He gradually slowed the Mercedes down, and pulled it in towards the side of the highway.
He stopped the car and switched off the engine. They were in Delaware, just outside of Wilmington. The night was dark, and there was the sound of insects from the highway verge.
Prickles said, 'Daddy — are you sick?'
Dr. Petrie shook his head. He touched her honey-colored hair, and her serious, beautiful, unpretty face.
'Do you know something?' he whispered. She looked at him attentively. The pains were worse, and he was beginning to feel nauseous.
'What, Daddy?' she asked, when he didn't say anything more.
Things seemed to be advancing and receding. Leonard Petrie felt sharp tearing pains start up in his bowels.
He stared at Prickles and said quietly, 'You will never forgive us for this.'
