"Little over two," he clarified, bending down at the opened floor to start pulling out what wires he could. "It went global near the start of the first summer. It's late in the third summer now. Nearing to fall."

Daryl paused and lifted a hand to his chin, thumb rubbing under his lip before he chewed at it a moment. When he let it go, he let out a huff of air, "Least it was last I can remember."

He went back to pulling out as much of the wiring and cable as he could, wrapping it around one hand, "This is for snares. Got nothing to cut the rope with even if it weren't too thick. And I ain't seen anything else thin enough or long enough. If any of us are gonna survive this, we're gonna need to eat something other than what was left us."

And someone took his crossbow, so he couldn't easily go on a more proactive hunt anyway. And he wasn't going to stay at the wreckage, either. Those dead bodies and all that blood would begin to smell too good for the local wildlife to stay away from, no matter how cautious they might be over the noise of the crash. Assuming there were any predators around. And if not predators, well Daryl wasn't going to bank on there being a lack of walkers. The noise alone would draw them in and he didn't know how much time they had. Wreck wasn't in any shape to be used as decent shelter, neither.