Tell her you want to talk later. You know she is worried, and wants to talk, but you have some things that need to get done and aren't sure you can handle that conversation like she needs you to right now. As soon as you guys get to the moment and she has processed what the moment is, she can ask you whatever or get whatever off her chest and you'll listen and answer as best you can.
"Hey - can we just get the rest of the food. We're kinda running late and-"
"Look, umm… I'm sorry but - look. You want me to go with you, right?"
"Yes? I mean - I was kinda hoping… yeah."
She hadn't asked. Why hadn't she asked?
"God, I feel like - I'm - OK. This is crazy. This whole thing is crazy."
"I'm freaking out about this Kendra," says Mel, who sounds amost more offended then upset. "I'm freaking out about this. How are you so calm!?" Her voice drops to a whisper. "They almost ate me!"
"But they didn't. You're fine right?"
"I know I'm fine! How are you fine!?"
"I don't know Mel - I had my freakout like… I dunno, like six days ago? It involved a lot of running and screaming. I'm just kind of not thinking about it now, or at least, trying too."
"This has been going on for a week?"
"No - there's… stuff, other stuff, going on, and - look, I've had time is what I'm saying. To process."
There is a long silence. Kendra can feel the seconds slipping past them, like gems sliding down a drain.
"How bad does this get Kendra?" asks Mel.
"You called them zombies, and your friend has something wrong with her arm that you won't let anyone look at and I'm thinking, the way you all are talking, that's not even the worst of what's going on. So I'm asking - how bad does this get?"