Full of holes. To a much greater extent than Daryl's was. That was just fucking peachy.

"Not sure," Daryl answered, taking a deep breath while they got the body laid out so the person could wake in relative comfort. When he straightened, he stretched his back and looked from the other man and to the transport. He didn't have knife, just the metal bar, but the man seemed strong enough not to need one. Could be useful in salvaging something other than the back-packs.

"We lost track of the days pretty quickly," he continued, voice getting quiet. His thumb came up to his mouth as he started back into the ship. "Can't give you anything exact, but it's been about two winters and three summers."

With a lot of the lower seats cleared of bodies (except for the dead ones), the backpacks they held could be grabbed. Or the seats themselves. Which is what Daryl wanted. That and what was under them or in the ceiling. He waved a hand along the isle, "Think you can rip all these out? Be easier to cut them up if they are. Need to get to the wiring under it all, too."