Chapter 5: Memphis, Tennessee

Dallas looked over at Clint again. The teen looked so familiar. He barely had the self control to not reach out and touch him. It would all be in vain. He knew his cousin was dead. But the sandy blonde hair, and pale skin were so similar, then he'd seen the deep green eyes and his own went misty.

The truck swerved again, making Dallas struggle to correct it. He'd never driven this far but from the light blinking on the dash he figured they needed to stop. It was too dark to really see much, almost all of the signs were off.

"What are you looking for?" Clint asked.

Dallas jumped, "I'm looking for a gas store."

"A gas station?"

"That's what I meant."

"Up ahead on the right," Clint pointed to the gas station. He also grabbed onto the door when they hit the curb turning into it. Dallas stopped the car by one of the pumps. There were other vehicles sitting around, a couple at the other pumps.

Clint started to get out, "we need to find a card, to get the gas pump working."

Dallas followed behind him. They searched other cars until they found a few wallets. Clint took everything and set out what they could use and couldn't. Dallas stood off to the side, watching everything. He just seemed genuinely curious about it all, so Clint didn't say a thing. Usually he hated being watched. It wasn't unusual. His parents made sure of that. They wouldn't let something so valuable be wasted.

He inserted one of the credit cards into the card reader, putting in the zip code from the corresponding ID. After filling up the tank, he realized the pounding in his head hadn't gone completely away. It wouldn't have surprised him if he had a concussion.

"Is there a store nearby?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure," Dallas looked around, "I can find one." He walked away looking at the surrounding buildings. Clint took the time to study his rescuer. He had come to the conclusion early on that Dallas had no intention of hurting him. He seemed a little awkward but Clint couldn't say much about that. Most people described him as awkward, or antisocial. Dallas, though he acted socially, would be equated to a carpenter without his tools. He knew what he wanted, but not how to get there.

A few minutes passed when Dallas finally returned, "there's a store across the street."

"Great. I need something for this headache."

"And they'll have it at the store?"

"Yeah. As long as it has a pharmacy."

Dallas just nodded. They drove the truck over to what turned out to be a shopping center. The bright Target sign displayed overhead. They walked inside, and Clint read the signs to find the direction of the pharmacy. He saw it on the far side of the front. Dallas followed stopping every few feet to looking at something new. He didn't take anything with him.

"I just need something with triptan, or better yet Reyvow," Clint explained as he crawled across the pharmacy counter. Dallas followed him over and started looking on the shelves in the back.

"Can you use Axert? The medical name ends with triptan," Dallas pointed at the bottles on the shelf in front of him, "wait, I found Rey... Reyvow."

Clint came over, picking up a bottle of Reyvow, "yeah this should help." They headed for the door.

"How do you know this isn't going to kill you?" Dallas asked.

"I read a book on medical chemistry." Not mentioning the times he had to take it before.

"Right. For school?"

Clint chuckled, "I guess you could say that. It was for my Biochemistry major."

"Sounds fun."

Clint grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler, sitting down beside it. He waited for Dallas to ask more questions but he didn't. Everyone was curious to find out more about his genius. He wasn't about to complain about the lack of it, he would start rambling on only to make his head feel worse. Clint downed two of the pills with the water, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. The effect wouldn't be immediate but he could hope.

Dallas cleared his throat. Clint sighed, readying himself for the onslaught of questions.

"Do you need anything?"

The blond blinked over at him, "Food."

"I can get some, but maybe we shouldn't be too far apart. We don't know who could come in here."

"You're right," Clint got up, pocketing the pills. They walked towards the food grabbing a cart. Starting at the front and making their way back. Clint grabbed anything that looked slightly appetizing.

"How can you eat all of that?" Dallas commented at the growing pile of junk food in the cart.

"It's the apocalypse. Might as well eat whatever we want."

"Sure. I don't even know what half of this is," he laughed.

"Really? And I thought I was sheltered."

Dallas grimaced, looking down the way before seeing the chips, "let's get some of these."

"These are junk food too, you know?"

"Like you said, it's the apocalypse."

Continuing through the aisles, they filled the cart easily. Then headed for the home sections to lounge on the display bed, or at least Clint did. Dallas sat on the floor, leaning against it.

"There is no way we are taking all of this with us," the elder opened another bag of chips, "I get why you like it though."

"See."

"Still not good for you."

"But it's worth it," Clint said with a yawn.

"You sound tired."

"It's the medication. This stuff always knocks me out after awhile."

"We should head out. It seemed like getting to Las Vegas was pretty important."

"It is."

Dallas waited for Clint to get up but he didn't. He glanced up but the other's eyes were closed. They stayed that way for another 10 minutes before Dallas got up. He looked around the area, finding the backpacks bringing two back to their temporary camp. Clint had rolled onto his side burying his face into the pillows. Dallas smiled then stuffed all the food he could into the two bags. He didn't stop until he was certain they wouldn't starve before reaching Las Vegas. Slinging one over each shoulder, he moved to Clint. The boy looked so peaceful. It was a shame they couldn't stay. He knew Clint had somewhere to be.

"Hey. Kid. You need to get up," it took a couple of minutes of Dallas shouting, for Clint to wake up. He stared at Dallas for a long minute before huffing and sitting up.

"There you go, kid."

"My name's Clint."

"Alright. Then Clint it is."

They walked back out to the truck. The trip wouldn't be too long, that was when one could fly.