When a person expressed thoughts or feelings to another and it was received, that was validation; when Alana told her brother that her husband, of twelve years--most of that time being spent in the Hell that became this world--was dead, it struck a nerve. It was out there. To hear her own voice say it left a bad taste in her mouth. But Alana had to push that off for the time being. There was still much to discuss.
With Luke at her side, she gave his shoulder a little nudge with her own. All truths were being told here. If Luke had never come to find her, she might have just given up with Michael. He might still think himself an overgrown boy, not yet a man, but there were a lot of things he did to protect his aunt that proved otherwise. They were in quarantine because there was absolutely no way Luke was about to allow a bunch of strangers to 'examine' Aunt Alana, and certainly not in her current emotional state. They were in quarantine, because, how could there be any other way to prove one was not infected?
Alana heard the same rumors Luke did, of people that were 'immune'. But unless she saw it for herself, she would never have believed it to be true. People said a lot of things when they crossed strangers and in this world, one would be foolish to blindly trust tidbits of information. Her brow knitted as she looked up to her brother and echoed Luke's sentiments.
"Is... Is that even really possible? We've heard things, but, rumors are rumors." Even as she said the words, Alana shifted her weight on her feet and leaned back slightly from Brannon. He might have thought he had just grown another head out of his shoulder, by the look on her face.