A knife. Finally. Daryl took both. The flashlight he dropped in another backpack and tossed into the pile he'd made earlier. The knife he took to the seams of the nearest seat so he could start to cut the cloth off.

"As many plates as you can get down," he answered after going through his head the fastest way to get everything moved. "There's a building or the remains of one not far. Can see it through the trees. We make ourselves some sleds out of the hull, we can drag the supplies, the wounded, and anything else we can pull off this heap over there to sort through."

With the first seat stripped of cloth and the belts, he made fast work of the cushioning under it and any loose wiring he could find. Tossed it out toward the backpacks. The insulation the cushioning provided could be useful if it got cold at night. And if it didn't, it would burn a lot easier than the trees. The backpacks were mostly empty, so there would be plenty of room for it if they couldn't make the sleds.

"Thanks," he said after another seat was stripped. "Name's Daryl."