Quackity sat in the RV. He couldn't focus on anything.
Was it something I said? he thought. No, there was blood. It wasn't my fault. But he wasn't sure.
Tommy had always been there, even been his friend after Quackity sided with Manberg. It hadn't been that long since he had lost his last life and gotten revived. If he died again...
Quackity didn't even want to think about that.
"How did you know?" Annabeth asked, sitting down next to him.
"No death messages."
"What does that mean?"
"It means he's not dead."
Annabeth sighed. "I mean-"
"I know what you mean, I just don't feel like answering."
She stopped. "Why don't you feel like answering?"
Quackity said nothing. If I ignore her, she might go away. He thought.
"Qua-"
"I'm tired." he said, getting up and walking over to the RV's makeshift bed.
---------------------------------
It was dark by the time Quackity woke up. He stood up. Clarisse was asleep at the table. Wilbur and Annabeth were on opposite sides of the bench. Percy was driving the RV.
Quackity felt slightly guilty for taking up the bed, but it wasn't his fault. They could have woken him up.
He walked over to the minifridge, opening it to see what was inside. He shut it again, not seeing anything appealing. He entered the driver's area.
"Hey." he said to Percy.
"Hey."
"I can drive if you want."
"It's fine. I haven't been driving for that long."
"Alright." Quackity sat down in the shotgun seat.
Percy cursed in a language Quackity didn't recognize, swerving to avoid something.
"What happened?" Quackity asked suddenly alert.
"Wake up the others." the ground below them grew rocky and unstable.
Quackity didn't ask questions, he just left. "Yessir."
He went back to the other people. "Wake up." he said, shaking each of them.
"What?" Clarisse snapped, angry even when half-asleep.
"We're gonna crash!" Percy called, swerving again.
They stopped, moving slowly. Then they fell off the edge of a cliff.