So I drive.
One minute, he's in his shitty little room on the island, feeling like a worthless piece of shit, and the next he's home.
Or... as closer to home. Which, in this case, is sitting a few miles off the road next to a pile of ashes and a skeleton. A skeleton wearing his belt buckle. He can still see the tracks Danny left when he and that bitch not-girlfriend of his drove off and left this skeleton with his belt buckle.
He sits in the brick red dirt for the longest fucking time, not knowing what to do. He doesn't have a car, he doesn't have anyone to keep alive.
Is Danny alive? Does he care anymore?
He eventually gets up and starts walking toward the road. No one will give him a ride, and he knows it. If someone did, they'd probably kill him or rape him or get him sick. But everything that seemed simple and straight-forward about survival when he was here before is gone now. He got to sit around and relax too long. He forgot how to live like this. And, really, he never knew how to live without someone there with him, someone to give him a reason to keep going and act tough.
In the end, he just heads toward the road because he's bored of sitting there, waiting to dehydrate. A day into walking along the road, one of those big trucks comes up on him and the guy tries to shoot him, but Brian shoots him first. He still has the gun that Shepard gave him, or maybe it's actually his father's gun now that he's home. (But wouldn't Danny have that? Fuck, he doesn't know how this shit works. Why didn't fucking Kernos drop him off a few days earlier so he could save Bobby? Why didn't they drop him off a few years earlier so he could save the world? Fuck them.) Now, he has a shotgun too; just the normal one this guy was carrying, not a huge space shotgun.
Now, he has his normal shotgun, and a truck and a big bottle of water, and some MREs. Great, he gets to keep living.
He drives for a week. Not like before. His driving is aimless, reckless. More reckless, anyway. He's not going to Turtle Beach where he might find his baby brother alive or dead, he knows that much. He's just not ready for that shit. There is only so much he can deal with right away, and finding his brother isn't one of them. Survival's not really there either, because he's running low on diesel, and he's hardly even trying to find any refills. He just pulls off the road a few miles when it starts to get dark and sleeps in the truck bed in an old sleeping bag.
He used to believe there's a reason he keeps living, and it seems like all the shit that's happened to him should just reinforce that old believe, but it doesn't. He's just pissed off that he's here, and pissed off that the fates keep realigning for him. It's to the point that living feels more like a punishment than a saving grace.
Or... as closer to home. Which, in this case, is sitting a few miles off the road next to a pile of ashes and a skeleton. A skeleton wearing his belt buckle. He can still see the tracks Danny left when he and that bitch not-girlfriend of his drove off and left this skeleton with his belt buckle.
He sits in the brick red dirt for the longest fucking time, not knowing what to do. He doesn't have a car, he doesn't have anyone to keep alive.
Is Danny alive? Does he care anymore?
He eventually gets up and starts walking toward the road. No one will give him a ride, and he knows it. If someone did, they'd probably kill him or rape him or get him sick. But everything that seemed simple and straight-forward about survival when he was here before is gone now. He got to sit around and relax too long. He forgot how to live like this. And, really, he never knew how to live without someone there with him, someone to give him a reason to keep going and act tough.
In the end, he just heads toward the road because he's bored of sitting there, waiting to dehydrate. A day into walking along the road, one of those big trucks comes up on him and the guy tries to shoot him, but Brian shoots him first. He still has the gun that Shepard gave him, or maybe it's actually his father's gun now that he's home. (But wouldn't Danny have that? Fuck, he doesn't know how this shit works. Why didn't fucking Kernos drop him off a few days earlier so he could save Bobby? Why didn't they drop him off a few years earlier so he could save the world? Fuck them.) Now, he has a shotgun too; just the normal one this guy was carrying, not a huge space shotgun.
Now, he has his normal shotgun, and a truck and a big bottle of water, and some MREs. Great, he gets to keep living.
He drives for a week. Not like before. His driving is aimless, reckless. More reckless, anyway. He's not going to Turtle Beach where he might find his baby brother alive or dead, he knows that much. He's just not ready for that shit. There is only so much he can deal with right away, and finding his brother isn't one of them. Survival's not really there either, because he's running low on diesel, and he's hardly even trying to find any refills. He just pulls off the road a few miles when it starts to get dark and sleeps in the truck bed in an old sleeping bag.
He used to believe there's a reason he keeps living, and it seems like all the shit that's happened to him should just reinforce that old believe, but it doesn't. He's just pissed off that he's here, and pissed off that the fates keep realigning for him. It's to the point that living feels more like a punishment than a saving grace.