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Vernon is regretting directing his boss to buy this hunk of junk ostensibly known as a vehicle. Not very much, but a little. Mostly because she then made him drive it, and this is a finicky and temperamental beast that keeps listing to the left, but in amounts that change a bit on every single bump. They are driving through what is colloquially called 'the wasteland,' which is a desert about half as hospitable and twice as rocky as it sounds. He is having to adjust often. It's annoying. Not very, and honestly, having a functioning vehicle that is not potentially going to explode is a bit of a novelty for him, but enough that he will think fondly of that other vehicle boss-lady had been eyeing before he steered her this way. That sure would have been nice to drive. It would have been painting a gigantic target on their backs, but still. He can dream.
She can hear the sounds of someone trying to dig the rubble out from the entrance before she decides to try yelling again.
"Oh thank god," calls Zash, and the noises of digging the rubble out become more enthusiastic.
"Zash? Is that you?? I'm okay!!" Aside from being a bit entombed alive but that's fixable really.
"It's me!"
Amongst Zash's many superhuman capabilities is his superhuman strength, so it doesn't take him too long to clear enough rubble out that he can look through a hole to see her, and then not too much longer after that for the hole to be wide enough she can crawl through.
(His non-robot arm turns out to be stronger than the robot arm, it seems.)
She obligingly wriggles through the hole and out into fresh air. Then, shortly after, into Zash's arms.
"Hi," she says in a small voice.
Anyone seeing the way he's hugging her will be further sold on the whole "married" act. He doesn't literally start crying, but it looks like it's taking some effort.
Yvettte is crying and in fact has been crying intermittently throughout this mess. There are long tearstains through the dust on her cheeks.
"So I think this might be all my fault," she says very quietly, into his chest.
"The. The bomber. Was absolutely out to get a pet plant engineer. Probably to get me to make the plant make more bombs for him or something. Um. I shot him."
"...this was not your fault." But he has to hug her again because he has enough self-awareness to see the parallels.
Even though, you know, he's right and she isn't.
"The poor red plant getting dumped with it and its fellows work was definitely my fault," she murmurs. Hug.
"--But, but this isn't. It's not about me, how. How bad's the."
"Nai—knife guy—took both plants."
"Melissa's dead. Elliott's dead. Tonis lost an arm."
"Vernon's dead."
... Standing? How is standing. How does one stand. She thinks it is collapse into Zash time because.
Because.
"Oh," she says.
Hug.
Then a deep breath.
"Okay. I. I have four functioning limbs and no injuries, let's. Go. Help."
"Yeah."
Not that there's much to help with. Some people are alive, some are dead, the city has been destroyed, and the plants have been stolen. But yeah.
So he definitely gets buried, and Melissa, and Elliott, and she doesn't even know who else, really, she. Didn't learn all of their names. She was too busy with the plant. But they can have graves, and she can even manage to dig out the damned water purifier, because fuck if the folks here don't need it now.
Zash nods. Stands up. Looks her in the eye, because she deserves it; doesn't apologise, because he doesn't deserve it.
"There's still -- we can probably use my car to get people to the nearest town near here for medical help, and, there's..."
