“I can fly,” she pointed out, not that it really mattered. Maybe one of those monsters down there could fly, too. Lord, that was a horrifying thought. She was safer up here with the living. “Thanks,” she added a half second later and crossed her arms, mulling over the when and the how he’d just meontioned. The when was obvious- as soon as possible, before the worst happened, or the inevitable as she’d tried to tell Tony. It really was inevitable, just a matter of time before they ran out of food or power or one of them got bit and started biting everyone else.
The how was harder. They knew she couldn’t teleport them without risking dropping them into the middle of a zombie horde (exactly what had happened when they’d tried to get out of the refugee center and to their headquarters). The quinjet still wasn’t running and was, at this point, probably a lost cause. “By car?” she finally offered because it was the best she could come up with. An apocalyptic road trip. The prospect of going didn’t seem especially bright because how could anywhere be better than here? What if it was worse? Well, it couldn’t have been any worse than the waiting here, ineffectual and in mourning for the world.