Snippet #2505359

I stopped messing with the speedometer and saw that there was only so much gas. I crossed my arms and viewed the road behind us. "We only have a half tank. And an SUV can hold at least 20 gallons of gasoline at a time." If only we knew the miles per gallon. Going the lowest, 17 miles per gallon, that's only around 170 miles. That'll barely take us to the safe haven in New Mexico. I turned to Satey and stated, "We're just gonna have to hope we have enough gas to get to New Mexico. Either that, or we have to switch cars when heading for Arkansas." I got inside the car and thought to myself for a few seconds. There was only a matter of time until the president's secret service or F.G.A caught up with us, so we had to keep moving. I started the engine, breathing out and putting the seatbelt on. I gingerly drove of the concrete slab and went down the highway. "We might as well go to Arkansas. But we'll need to keep ourselves alert. Night time is more dangerous when it comes to them finding us. I've had my fair share of nightly encounters. Years and years of them..." I explained roaring down the road and seeing a few tattered-looking buildings.