John's steady presence is a comfort, and so is the knowledge that this isn't exactly the same situation. We aren't entirely isolated here, and there's hope that someone might help us. Even lacking that, if history is repeating at all, we have only to keep ourselves alive until this all goes away and things return to normal.

I can almost believe that it's only the men with the arrows and the guns that we have to be afraid of until I'm reminded of the uncanny vines.

I hardly even take a breath to think about it before I've crossed over to Lucy, John's knife in my hand to hack at the vine.