"It goes all the way to California." The road was a stripe painted on the rolling earth.
"How long, do you think?"
"On foot, with packs; detours to avoid concentrations; time spent hiding or running the wrong way… I dunno." He shook his head. "Three and a half months? Maybe four?"
"I'll need better shoes." She pointed down at canvas sneakers, suitable for around the house.
"Yeah you will." He looked around: twenty former zombies lay twisted and broken on the asphalt. He pointed at one in particular. "She's wearing hiking boots, try 'em on, see if they're you're size."