He hears the explosion behind him down the hall. He knew he was supposed to run. But he has to see for himself.

  John turned around, rushing back into the room to inspect the damage. The giant Cerberus lay on the floor unconscious. His red eyes closed. And so he investigates a little further. The short one with the white mask was trapped underneath him.

  One of her arms was free, but the other was stuck to her side. She lay on her stomach, and it was obvious that she remained conscious. And so John was about to book it, until he heard a faint gasp and a cough to his right. There, he saw Jimbo. His right arm, totally destroyed. His clothing torn from shrapnel. He was not going to live, even if we was still alive.

  John rushed over to him and took a knee, picking the man up. Or at least, he tried to.

  “J— Joghn.” Jimbo said faintly, choking on his own blood.

  John slung his left arm over his shoulders and brought him to his feet.

  “It's… isg tooug late, Joghn…”

  Jimbo told him, barely able to stand even with John's support.

  John replies. “Not yet it's not.” He says, slowly beginning to walk him to the exit. John looked back just as he left, he one with the white mask clearly staring back.

  Jimbo almost slipped multiple times on the way out. As they exited the facility, the rain seemed a little calmer. The wind, more amicable.

  But, Jimbo couldn't do it any longer. Halfway to the Versa, he collapsed onto his back with a pained moan.

  “Come on!” John told him, naively thinking he could be saved.

  Jimbo spat a huge was of blood out as he replied.

  “Stop… just stop John. No more. Please.”

  John looked down at the dying man, a lighting bolt editing his silhouette for just a moment. John knelt while Jimbo lied in the cold and cleansing rain. Blood oozes out Jimbo's other arm. He reaches out to John with his left one, grabbing his cheek.

  His hand was cold and clammy as he told John.

  “My… my name is Jimmy. But don't remember me as that. Remember me as… Jimbo.”

  Jimbo coughed his lungs out for a moment, John giving him all the attention he could. As Jimbo calmed down, he looked back up to John, and the two met in a terminal eye contact as Jimbo spoke his last.

  “We are kindred spirits, you and I. You might be young and bold, but… the rain falls on us both.” Jimbo removed his hand from John's face and put it in front. John grabbed it in kind.

  “There is a Sun behind those clouds. It is real. I have felt it. There is a moon. And planets. And stars. A whole galaxy beyond us.” Jimbo’s eyes glaze over as he looks up into the sky. His face becomes a whitish purple and he rests his head on the ground.

  “Time will move on. It… it wasn't long ago it felt like I was learning to read…” Thunder crackled in the distance as Jimbo took his last coughs, his last words leaving breathlessly.

  A smile forms as he dies.

  “Time will pass… John. Just like… the wind.”

  His words faded into the background. Jimbo's hand went limp as John held it. He gently places it down on his stomach, and nods down at the fallen man. A small, perhaps meaningless honor. But it is all he felt he could do for him now. All, except carry his wishes. And see them through.

  John stayed there for a couple seconds. In a weird way, he didn't want to leave. But he knew he had it. He leaned over Jimbo, and closed Jimbo’s eyes for eternity.

  He stood, looking over him for another little moment.

  Then, he left. John walked to the Versa, his eyes spotting that the station-wagon's boot was closed. He tried his luck opening it, only to be electrocuted pretty badly.

  “Oww! Fuck!” He said, his yell falling deaf soon after. The shock served to wake him up a little, and so he ran back to the Versa, throwing the door open only to throw it closed once inside.

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  He shoved the key into the ignition and turned it on, and dumped the clutch to do a donut-powerslide out as he left.

  Just as Jimbo would've wanted.

  He throws the high beams on as he guns it down the road leading back to the superhighway. A random song was playing on the cassette, and so he muted it again.

  He made to the end of the road, turning onto another road which soon led to the superhighway.

  “Archliege.” John thinks. What is the Archliege?

  To be so important that it is what Jimbo says just before he thinks he will die? James Mourner said it too, he remembers. Gary, for as jaded and unwilling as he was, kept the word. Or name. Or whatever it is with a severance he held with no other.

  Even Que, John recalls. He contemplates it deeply for the trip.

  The lights, signs and roads become noise as North Platte City grows ever closer. His body on autopilot as his mind contemplates; the rain becoming the stimulating rhythm in his mind as he thinks further deep.

  Is the Archliege God? Who else knows? Is he allowed to ask about it?

  An autocab cuts him off at stoplight, causing him to shove his foot on the clutch and smash the brakes. Oh shit, he's already in the city center?

  He looks around, not quite knowing where he's gone. He was supposed to stick to the superhighway, cutting directly through the city to the other side.

  John lets off the clutch again and gets moving, pulling to the side of the road under some thin rain cover. He stops the car and gets out to get his bearings, looking around; the lights, sounds, smells and senses of the city are overwhelming as he tries to pay attention.

  The monstrous building, far drawing even the obelisk by massive magnitudes. Spires which stretch into the sky, some close to piercing the clouds as if the tower of babel. And yet, all they were operating husks.

  Arbitrary buildings, erected to tick a box. He sees right through them. The only thing beyond is the sky and the mythical Sun. Or maybe… the moon? A random thought comes to mind as he looks back at the Versa.

  “Oh shit!” He exclaims, his voice almost drawn by a massive holographic advertisement above, talking about the pleasures and ease off… whatever the Hell it is. It doesn't matter. He remembers the tracker. And he panics as he desperately searches for it.

  He throws himself onto he ground to scour the underside of the car. He isn't quite sure what it's supposed to look like. He looks mostly with his hands, searching for anything remotely loose or out of place. He rips off a few indiscernible objects, inspecting each to evaluate their purpose. Nothing sticks out, and he pops the hood to look under.

  He looked through the engine bay, the crushing weight of waiting time coming over him. Each second it gets heavier, as he knows that it is only a matter of time until something, or someone from the cabal might catch him.

  He scours effortlessly, because he is desperate. He finds nothing, his perception of time warped from panic. He closes the hood and takes a step back, a massive cyber trucks speeding past him and drenching him in drain water. He takes Ridley's coat off, throwing it in the back seat.

  He tries to focus for just a second.

  Slowing down, composing himself.

  He knows that the Versa was locked, and so it can't be inside.

  That also means it can't be in the bonnet. And so it can only either be outside, or underneath.

  He checks the wheel wells, nothing.

  He checks the windows, mirrors, panel gaps. Nothing.

  He checks under the front of the car, nothing. Time is surely running out.

  Finally, like his own bolt of lightning, with the deafening ambiance of central North Platte wailing all around him; he ducks under the rear bumper.

  There is a cavity between it and the frame. His eyes scour it in a blur.

  And… he sees a black oval looking withing with a tiny blinking light.

  He reaches for it, the angle awkward.

  He grasps it, giving it a few firm rubs before ripping it off.

  He inspects it closer, noticing it make a high-pitched static sound. He throws it under foot and smashes it under his iron leg, the device’s high tone lowering to oblivion after being destroyed.

  He breathes a huge sigh of relief, waiting for the next autocab to pass before rounding back to the driver's seat. But in the distance something catches his eye. A black vehicle. Unassuming, yet it has a distinctive road. And it was traveling fast. He looks at for just a second longer before he realizes what it was.

  The station wagon. Flying at him at what may as well be a million miles an hour. Just like his fight with the forest beast, just like his bout with Proteus. A certain visceral force overcomes him; he rips the door open and shoves himself inside. The car ignites to life, and he presses the button for the muffler bypass, freeing a few more horsepower for the trial ahead.

  “Racer boy.” John remembers, his mind drifting to Amy for just a moment. As the car came to life, a certain song started playing. All of this in what was effectively the blink of an eye. His mind processed like a machine. His body, his car was ready.