There's a place up north called McKinleyton, home of a friend of a friend, and not more than an hour away if you had a car, which you don't. As it stands, you're forced to walk, and maybe try to catch a lift from some generous passerby.
The highway is dark, and the ancient tall trees obscure all the moonlight that might help you guide your path. Cars zip by, more than once almost striking you down as you work your way out of town.