Tori’s eyes were glued to the Orerry the whole time we walked through the streets of Chicago. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have cared. People used to walk around with their heads in their phones all the time, and nothing too bad happened to them.

  But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Tori not paying attention was a problem for both of us. The only reason I didn’t say anything was because she did need the time to figure out what she wanted to do with her new spell—that and I was fairly sure the area was reasonably safe. After all, we were still pretty close to Museumtown, and whoever this Captain was, he’d been sending out patrols to clear dungeons. Chances were good they’d fought and killed the nearby monsters, too.

  I was more concerned about Cindy’s Automotive. And about Cindy.

  It was just outside of the biggest skyscrapers, tucked into a nook between two towering buildings, and I had no idea how Cindy had kept it running when the real estate was so valuable and the profit margins so low. She’d kept me running, too. Without that job, I’d have been even more screwed in Chicago than I had been. She’d been a good boss—smart enough to know where to put her people, and to know that she had to take care of them.

  But even though I was worried about Cindy, the garage occupied most of my thoughts. Was it a dungeon? No way. It couldn’t be, not if Lincoln Park Zoo was just a Tier One. No one in their right mind would make an auto shop a dungeon.

  I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. I’d fought that Ford Explorer for days; it’d be funny if I had to kill it now. Not funny. To be defeated by the Explorer, then have it return—that’d be tragic.

  But at the end of the day, I needed my tools.

  The neon sign was dark against the evening sky. It had always been on the edge of death, and sometimes, it read ‘Dy Autotive’ instead of ‘Cindy’s Automotive,’ but I couldn’t hold back a shiver.

  “Hal, are you good?” Tori asked. She’d finally peeled herself away from the Dark Orerry, and she put a hand on my arm. When I flinched, she pulled it away.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just…a lot of memories here.” I stared at the broken windows. They hadn’t always been shattered; just a few days ago, the door had been unlocked and the Wyoming traveler was forking out the big bucks to get me working on her car. “I used to work here. We’re here to get my tools.”

  Tori nodded. “Want me to go in and find them?”

  “No. I’ll be fine.” I grabbed the Charge Blade and knocked the rest of the glass out of a window. The inside was a war zone; wheel rims and coins shone faintly in my gauntlet’s orange light. I caught sight of an unmoving figure on the ground. Tori was right behind me, and I closed my fist around the glowing lens in the gauntlet’s center before she could get a good look. “Keep an eye on the street.”

  “Alright. I’ll be here if you need me,” Tori said. “I’ll let you know if any monster over Level 20 shows up.”

  “Thanks.” I climbed through the window and disappeared into the dark auto shop, leaving Tori behind.

  Cindy hadn’t been my worst boss. That had gone to the small engine repair guy, who’d ‘forgotten’ one paycheck too many. Cindy had made sure we got hours and that we got paid. Sometimes, she was a hardass when she didn’t need to be. But she’d ignored my lack of certification and paid me under the table. She’d kept me afloat for the last six months or so, and she’d told me a few times that she was sorry she couldn’t do more for me.

  She’d had a reason for being here in the middle of Chicago. For hanging on to a piece of oil-stained dirt and a run-down shop that had to be worth a million dollars or more. She’d never told any of the mechanics why, though, and we’d never asked. I regretted that now.

  I had no idea why she’d come back here. Maybe she hadn’t survived terraforming. Or maybe this was the place in Chicago where she felt the most at home, and she’d chosen to return to something familiar.

  I didn’t know her story. But the moment I saw her body in the corner, I knew that it was over.

  Her chest had been ripped open. I could see where whatever monster had killed her had snapped her ribs. Her face was drawn and pale. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been annoyed. Now, she just looked like she’d died in agony.

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  The monster hadn’t eaten her, either. Her arms and legs were intact, except for one shattered, bent calf.

  I found the shop keys, unlocked the back, and put them in Cindy’s pocket. Then, I headed into the parts storage for a tarp.

  When I got back, Tori stood there. She wouldn’t stop staring at the body. “She was your boss, right?”

  “Yes.” My throat had tightened up so much I could barely breathe. I covered Cindy’s body with the tarp. It was the best I could do right now. “She’d been running this place for a decade when I got here. Maybe longer.”

  “Did you know her well?” Tori sounded uncertain what to say.

  I shook my head.

  “Alright.” She went quiet for almost a minute. When she did talk, her voice was soft and quiet. I could almost smell her anxiety, and I could definitely feel it like a weight. It was probably almost as heavy as my own. “You’re still good, right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” I shook myself a little and headed back toward the break room.

  The break room smelled wrong.

  The reek of oil, sweat, and filth was missing. It reminded me of the Redline Tunnels—artificially natural. Someone had been here. The fridge was completely empty, while a dozen Tupperware and take-out boxes covered the beat-up fake leather couch.

  The other guys spent their free time here, but I’d usually taken my lunch while staring at my current project. The TV was stone and glass now, but a few magazines lay on the table. I picked one up: Sports Illustrated. They were talking about the beginning of football season. The Bears were supposed to be good this year. My throat grew tight, and I flipped the magazine open. There were other stories. The baseball playoff race was coming to an end, and something about sailing.

  There’d never be another Bears game. I didn’t even know if the team was still alive. The weight of it hung on me somehow, and all of a sudden, I didn’t want to look at Sports Illustrated anymore.

  It felt different than looking at Cindy’s body. But at the same time, it felt exactly the same. Something had happened, and the things I’d taken for granted in my life—the things we’d all taken for granted in our lives—were gone.

  I tossed it away. I wasn’t here for magazines anyway. I was here for parts.

  Cindy’s mostly specialized in domestic cars, but she did a brisk business in motorcycles, too. More importantly, Cindy had always made sure to have the typical parts on hand when she could. We’d been going through a rough patch, and the ‘warehouse’ part of the place wasn’t overflowing, but I had a few specific goals in mind. I wanted the Trip-Hammer back.

  No, I wanted the Trip-Hammer, but better.

  I had a blueprint in mind in my head. It was much more complex than the original design, but this time, I had all the parts in the world to make it happen. The kid-sized dirt bike engine Franco had been working on went into my inventory. So did a dozen gears and flywheels, a quartet of timing belts, and a few other odds and ends. As I pulled each part into my inventory, the blueprint filled itself in. All I was missing was power, and I couldn’t find that here.

  Part of me wanted to be done. I could have been done. But there was one more thing I wanted to see.

  I left the empty parts warehouse and pulled open the door to the garage.

  The Ford Explorer’s guts hung out just like I’d left it. That triggered something, and I closed my eyes. Cindy’s body had been mangled and ruined, but there’d been no blood—none at all. The parts of her body that weren’t attached were gone. That felt important, but I couldn’t explain why.

  The SUV wasn’t where I’d left it. It had still been on its lift when I left Cindy’s, and she knew I’d be back for it the next morning. Now, it sat on the ground, its threadbare tires gleaming in the orange light. Its green body was rusted and scratched, but its bones were good.

  I hadn’t seen a single intact vehicle since leaving the Hardcore Tutorial. Most of them had crashed, caught fire, or been destroyed during terraforming. The ones that weren’t destroyed were overgrown and rusted hulks that looked like they’d been left there for decades instead of days. Other than the transmission, though, the Explorer was perfectly operational. Part of me wanted to check it out and try to figure out why.

  I ignored that part of me. The rest of me kept staring at the Explorer. I could fix the fuel issue right now. It’d be easy now that I knew what to look for, and I had a whole shop full of parts to make it happen. The SUV was still in pretty good shape; it’d make it to Wyoming for sure.

  There’d be no point. The gas wouldn’t burn. The engine wouldn’t start. I doubted I could even make it turn over. But that was just another puzzle—maybe even one more challenging than the transmission had been to begin with.

  I shook my head. The Explorer would be here when I was ready, but I wasn’t ready yet.

  The shop was quiet. Too quiet; I’d never heard it so silent, and I wished the radio was blasting oldies again. But it wasn’t. What I needed to do was put Cindy to rest, but that’d mean burning down the building or moving her body, and I couldn’t do either of those things. The last thing we needed was to burn down Chicago. And as for moving her? No. She’d chosen to die here.

  I locked the Explorer. Even if someone broke in, it wouldn’t start, and it had nothing worth taking in it. But I locked it anyway. Then I walked slowly back to Tori, looked at the dark neon sign one last time, and forced a smile. She returned it, looking unsure.

  “I found what I was looking for,” I said. My shoulders rolled, cracking loudly. “Your mom didn’t give you a curfew, did she?”

  Tori’s eyes narrowed, and I realized my mistake. She didn’t correct me, though. “No.”

  My throat hurt as I forced myself to swallow. “Great. Let’s see how many Tier Ones we can get done tonight. I bet we can get you to the low thirties.”

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