Thanks to the hunters of the Campgrounds Jon's group was able to get away and ahead of the caravan. They weren't sure what sort of people they were, but with things as they are: interacting with large, unfamiliar groups was unsettling. Most people had hunkered down in one spot, community members. The party was sold aware that their traveling could also be seen as a threat, so they took care.
I don't like it. Jon was leaning his head out the window, watching the horizon.
Leslie glanced over while she drove, Mr. Meownisky perched on her shoulder. She didn't speak yet, but he felt her gaze on him.
We shouldn't have left Mr. Randy. Something about that collective... He understood they had their group to take care of and get to the Reservation, but he felt they were leaving more people behind than helping.