Brand

The tunnel hummed beneath the rubble, as if it were breathing in the darkness. Your heart was pounding in your throat as you and Brenda broke through the wreckage in the truck. The rumble, the dust, the dim light of the headlights. And there - the silhouettes of three. Dirty, tired, but alive. Thomas, Newt, Frypan. You almost jumped from the cab before the car stopped. You screamed, running around the hood, pushing the dusty bandage away from your face.

• Alive?! Newt answered, clearing his throat, he was almost inaudible through the noise of collapsing structures

• Go already, before they eat us again! The truck jerked forward. The tires squealed under you, the rumble of collapsing walls behind you. You flew into the cabin, next to Brenda, your hands dirty and your breathing wild. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. But the corners of her lips twitched. Later. The car shakes over the bumps. Voices behind you. In the cabin there is dust, the smell of burnt rubber and someone's perfume. You open the window slightly - a cold evening wind hits your face. The truck has climbed out of the gray mouth of the tunnel, but the tension does not let up yet. You look in the rearview mirror - Thomas gives you a quick glance, Newt is silent, and Frypan unbuttons his collar, as if he is still strangling with fear

• Was this a plan? Or did you just decide to make a splash? Brenda has her hand on the wheel, her eyes forward, her jaw tense. But you notice her biting her lip, suppressing a grin

• Oh, come on. It worked. You stretch your legs, leaning back tiredly, running your hand over your neck, where you can still feel someone else's scream - recent fear

• The plan was: "We drive in, make noise, save everyone. Die in style, if necessary." There's a pause for a moment. The wind knocks on the windows, the engine rumbles like a contented beast. Thomas chuckles briefly. Newt leans back in his chair, his fingers shaking slightly, but his eyes are full of gratitude

• I admit, you're not only a good fighter... You're also my kind in spirit Your eyes meet. There are no loud words behind it - only silence, understanding, and respect that has grown stronger under the roar of the world that doesn't want to let you go

She is like a storm after a heat wave - frightening because it is harsh, but cleansing. Brenda does not like empty words, but if she stayed, it means that you mean something to her. And in the dusty roads of Vice, among the survivors, it is she who gives you the feeling that you are not alone.