As Ryder and his family packed their final bags, they headed out for South Haven, hearing about a ferry that could take them to Wisconsin in hopes of a better, safer life. Opening his nightstand, he pulled out a 1911 handgun and tucked it away inside his trench coat.

"You think they'll let you bring it?" Rose questioned.

"They don't need to know I have it," Ryder answered.

Stepping into his living room, he saw his son and wife packed and ready to go.

"Well?" he paused. "Everyone ready and packed?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Yes," they replied.

"Alright then, let's go," Ryder said.

Opening the front door, an ambulance and police car roared down the road while the family loaded up into the truck and headed off for the port. Continuing down through Battle Creek, the state it was in had really lived up to its name. Vehicles had their windows smashed; some had doors and tires missing entirely. Buildings looked no better - doors broken, windows smashed, some even set aflame.

A few hours of driving later, the family reached the port only to find chaos - people attacking each other just to get slightly further up the "line" that had formed. A policeman quickly walked down the line to address a problem but was shot in the head by an unknown assailant. Brain matter and bone splattered on the driver's side window of Ryder's truck.

Plat.

"Holy shit!" Ryder exclaimed.

Rose was visibly shaken, and Chris began crying. Ryder drew his 1911 and racked the slide.

"Aight, look, I need you both to listen to me, okay? I love you both with everything in me, but I need you to trust me here. Got it?" Ryder explained.

Chris and Rose both agreed.

"If we push our way through, we'll make it. But we need to act now or we'll lose our chance, you understand?" he added.

The family quickly exited the vehicle and formed a single-file line - Ryder at the front, Chris in the middle, and Rose at the rear - leaving their belongings behind. They pushed through the chaos. Rose was grabbed by a man; Ryder saw this and hit the man with the muzzle of the gun, but to no avail. Ryder switched the gun from right to left, using his right arm to cover Rose's face as he shot the man, killing him. He pulled Rose toward him and they continued toward the ferry.

Two more people approached the family. Ryder held the gun with his right as he kept his left arm up, sort of defending his family.

"Get back! Get back!" he ordered, motioning the gun toward them.

However, one person didn't listen and stepped too close. Ryder opened fire, killing them. The other person backed off before disappearing into the fray.

The family finally reached the ferry. Just a few seconds later, it departed - some people falling into the water. Ryder turned to his family, hugging them. Pulling away, he holstered the 1911 back into his trench coat, putting his hands on Rose's face.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that. Are you okay?" he said.

"It - it's okay. I'm fine. Who knows what they would've done. You did what you had to do," Rose said, reassuring him.

Ryder turned to Chris and knelt down.

"How about you, little man? You alright?" he said, ruffling his hair before pulling him in for a hug.

Sniffle. "I'm okay," Chris said.

About an hour and a half into the ride, the ferry was another hour off the Chicago port until someone from the upper deck noticed a speedboat and multiple jet skis heading for the ferry. Peril broke loose on the ferry - some even jumped into the water. The pursuers encroached, shooting the ones who jumped. As the ones on the jet skis got closer and closer, some lit the fuses to pipe bombs; others opened fire onto the ferry.

Ryder grabbed the railing and fired a shot, hitting the jet ski's driver in the arm. But it was too late. The speedboat had thrown an IED on board. As it detonated, it brought two other cars with it. The shockwave threw Ryder overboard and into the water, his family still onboard.

A few hours passed, and Ryder washed ashore near Chicago - alone and unconscious - before being dragged away. Waking up in an unfamiliar spot and stripped of his coat and gun, he heard music coming from above him. He searched around the apartment room and found an M870 that had the barrel shortened and the stock sawed off. He found the stairs and steadily walked up them, sneaking up on the man in the lawn chair. He pressed the barrel against the man's head.

"Kill it," Ryder ordered.

The man turned the radio off. "It's empty, by the way," the man said.

"I found ammo for it," Ryder responded.

The man laughed. "Where? I'm Hudson, by the way," he introduced himself.

"I don't give a fuck who you are. Where am I?" Ryder said sharply.

"You're in Chicago, my friend. I assume you're here because of that broadcast that was set up to lure people in just so the assholes here could kill 'em and take their shit. That's where you are. Now I'd take that sawed-off away from my head because I'm the only motherfucker you can trust in alllll of Illinois," Hudson explained. "And I know you're probably thinking, 'But why should I trust you?' Well, my soggy friend, I didn't kill you and take that sweet piece you had on you - very nice gun, by the way. And also, take a second to listen."

They both paused.

"Do you hear that? What do you think that could be? A car backfiring? Fireworks? A really big bottle of champagne being popped over and over again? No, it's gunfire. In fact, it's been nothing but gunfire for the last goddamn month. The street gangs here are practically at fucking war with each other. So let me end with this, buddy. Would you like to stay and be a poor sinner's friend? Just for a little bit? 'Cause I've been dying to have one lately. I mean, why do you think that shotgun's empty? Go ahead - pull that trigger. Or you can go out there and wind up dead within an hour," Hudson lectured.

"Your coat was soaked so I hung it up over there," he added, pointing to a clothing line. "I didn't take anything besides your gun - which is right here," Hudson said, holding up the 1911. "Everything should be dry by now. There's also some food in the pantry downstairs."

Ryder turned around with his coat in hand.

"Why are you being hospitable?" Ryder asked.

"Because I just want a friend," Hudson said, staring out into the rising sun.

Ryder returned to the apartment, finding a can of peaches.

"Can opener's in that drawer," Hudson said, pointing to it.

Then suddenly it hit Ryder.

"Hey wait - did you happen to see a woman and boy wash ashore too? Or did that ferry make it or anything?" Ryder asked urgently.

Hudson's face went blank, realizing what Ryder had asked.

"I'm sorry. That ferry blew up. I watched it get attacked. No one made it off, man. I'm so, so sorry," Hudson said.

Ryder fell back against the fridge, slowly sitting down on the ground, breathing slightly heavy, running a hand through his hair - before breaking down crying. Hudson sat down next to him, putting an arm around Ryder, trying to comfort the broken man.