An uneventful week.

The next few weeks of your journey pass uneventfully. They could even be called relaxing, if any of your time in the Dead Zone can be considered such without the luxuries you've become accustomed too in world outside.{if PregnancyKnown =True} Though with the knowledge that new life is currently growing inside you, you find it hard to truly let yourself relax.{endif}

It's almost nice to see the scenery of the overgrown city drifting by while you lie back on the deck, distracting yourself with old flatvid shows loaded onto your internal computer. They're not as good as modern stuff, but they pass the time.

You even get to know the Captain of your little vessel; a woman named Isabel, a corporate soldier who got stuck here when the Zone closed and her employer abandoned her here. She laughed in your face when you told her of your plans to escape, but has otherwise been a decent host. The food could be improved, though.

Over a week into your journey, you're lying on a bed in what passes for your quarters when a burst of automatic fire causes you to bolt upright, launching yourself up to your feet. A marker on your heads-up display designates the direction the shot came from, along with data on probable ballistics derived from audio analysis.

Wasting no time, you exit the room and clear the stairway up to the surface in two bounds.