Mark's been driving for over eight hours when the sun finally gives up and disappears. He's somewhere around the Mojave National Preserve, not even out of California yet. His leg is cramping where he's had it jammed down on the gas pedal, and there's a crick in his neck from checking the rearview so often, but he's not been eaten and he's out in the middle of nowhere, which are both pluses. If Mark were the kind of guy to make pro and con lists, Not Being Eaten and Not Near Zombies would definitely make the good side. Not that it would really matter, because there's not really anything that can balance out the Zombie Apocalypse that's weighing down the con side with a kind of smug aplomb, but, you know, Mark's not dead yet. The pro side wins today.
But then, Mark thinks, not even bothering to pull over to the side of the road before he kills the engine, clambers into the backseat to lie down next to the guns and the gas canisters, there's always tomorrow.
Mark doesn't think he really has the right temperament for list-making.