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In the middle of an apocalyptic, forgotten desert, Allyson and Bill
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BILL
(Too loudly) Al, check this out!
He proudly holds up a travel sized bottle of hand-sanitizer.
It’s got to be the last one in California…
ALLYSON
Jesus Christ, Bill! You can’t just YELL like that out here! You’ll draw attention.
BILL unclasps the lid and takes a sniff before depositing a tiny bit of gel on his dirty hands.
BILL
I never thought I’d see one of these left out, not since the Takeover.
ALLYSON
Me neither…
ALLYSON snatches the bottle from BILL’s hand to scrutinize the label.
This sixty-percent alcohol? Do you think this can get me drunk?
They both laugh for the first time in a long while—it’s a welcomed moment.
BILL
I thought you were focused on staying alive with that leg of yours.
ALLYSON
Don’t you turn my own words against me, now.
Suddenly, a crackle of a radio. It’s
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