"Seen some Harleys over in California. Not in the shithole we moved to." Another stream of smoke. "Yeah, haven't seen my Camaro here, so I guess whoever the fuck decided to bring me here thought I didn't need my car."

He goes to the window, half tempted to open it and shout to the sky that the aliens were wrong and he needs it. But Billy doesn't, instead content to lean against it while he smokes instead.

"Maybe somewhere in this hellhole there's parts to make a bike or a car here."