(no subject)
He left the horse outside of the danger zone. It wasn't her fault humans were stupid enough to go into what was left of Dallas. But it had been weeks since Jeff was due to return, and home wasn't safe anymore.
It hurt to even think that. The only place he'd thought of as home for eight years, subject to looters and...things he didn't even want to think about. Jeff was flying into Dallas, was his only thought. He had to see.
Six hours later, skin peeling from radiation burns and vomiting into the underbrush, Daniel decided he'd had better ideas.
Somehow he and the Crabapple made it to a designated safe area miles away from the blast zone. Daniel remembered very little of the trip besides being in pain, thirsty, tired and very confused. The strangest part was waking up in makeshift hospital two days later, feeling almost back to normal. He was rather soundly scolded by the attending doctor for even going near the danger zone without the proper equipment. His story led to little but sympathetic head shaking, too many people were missing, and there was no way to contact other bases of survivors.
He was told his symptoms would return with a vengeance in less than two weeks. It was a little strange being walking wounded, but he got treatment as well as the scrounged camp could manage for his burns and dehydration.
The end of the latent phase was hell. Daniel was thankful afterwards that he was unconscious for most of it. Shaving had never been a problem, considering his heritage, but after losing most of the hair on his body, he wondered if he'd ever have to shave again.
Hygiene being what it was in a camp hospital, his weakened immune system was hammered with several infections right from the start. He spent another length of time mostly out of it, his only rewards on waking up constant fatigue and frequent nosebleeds. Gathering his willpower, which is about all he had going for him, Daniel started his workouts again.
When the hospital was forced to split up from the encroaching threats of out of control werewolves, hordes of irradiated zombies, and looters, he left alongside the doctor who first treated him.
It was months later before he deemed himself strong enough to travel alone again. (The horse herself did not count, as she could not cook dinner or tie bandages.) Taking his leave of the good doctor, Daniel struck out northward.
It hurt to even think that. The only place he'd thought of as home for eight years, subject to looters and...things he didn't even want to think about. Jeff was flying into Dallas, was his only thought. He had to see.
Six hours later, skin peeling from radiation burns and vomiting into the underbrush, Daniel decided he'd had better ideas.
Somehow he and the Crabapple made it to a designated safe area miles away from the blast zone. Daniel remembered very little of the trip besides being in pain, thirsty, tired and very confused. The strangest part was waking up in makeshift hospital two days later, feeling almost back to normal. He was rather soundly scolded by the attending doctor for even going near the danger zone without the proper equipment. His story led to little but sympathetic head shaking, too many people were missing, and there was no way to contact other bases of survivors.
He was told his symptoms would return with a vengeance in less than two weeks. It was a little strange being walking wounded, but he got treatment as well as the scrounged camp could manage for his burns and dehydration.
The end of the latent phase was hell. Daniel was thankful afterwards that he was unconscious for most of it. Shaving had never been a problem, considering his heritage, but after losing most of the hair on his body, he wondered if he'd ever have to shave again.
Hygiene being what it was in a camp hospital, his weakened immune system was hammered with several infections right from the start. He spent another length of time mostly out of it, his only rewards on waking up constant fatigue and frequent nosebleeds. Gathering his willpower, which is about all he had going for him, Daniel started his workouts again.
When the hospital was forced to split up from the encroaching threats of out of control werewolves, hordes of irradiated zombies, and looters, he left alongside the doctor who first treated him.
It was months later before he deemed himself strong enough to travel alone again. (The horse herself did not count, as she could not cook dinner or tie bandages.) Taking his leave of the good doctor, Daniel struck out northward.