My vision came back as a dream. In the dream, my body was sprawled in the back seat of a car with horrible red upholstery. The gentle roll of streetlights illuminated the car’s interior as I traveled down an unknown road. I faded in and out, with moments of darkness giving way to moments of light in a regular pattern. A high-pitched ringing noise drowned out any other sound in the back of the vehicle. Eventually, I realized I wasn’t dreaming and had somehow survived my battle with the Fines.
I was in the Omni, but someone else was driving. My chest was still oozing blood, but my ears were at least hearing an overpowering ringing sound, instead of nothing at all. My consciousness came and went, and from my limited vantage point, I could see only trees and the occasional traffic light. More time passed, and I felt the car slow and turn onto a bumpier road. I wanted to sit up or say something to the driver, but I was reasonably sure I wouldn’t be able to hear anything he might say in response. I also wasn’t entirely sure I could sit up on my own.
A notification rested in the corner of my mind, several, in fact. Pulling up the interface, I saw several messages from Dispatch and from Lanie, but it was my License Status screen that caught my full attention.
Current Level:
D13/D100
Equipped Upgrades:
Rusty Bumper Reinforcement
Duct Tape Patches
Extra Loud Horn
Available Upgrades:
Homemade Smokescreen
DIY Molotov Launcher
Blinding Headlight High-Beams
Nail-studded Tire Chains
Road Spikes
CB Radio Jammer
Slingshot Roof-Mount
Shotgun Turret
Retractable Side Blades
Improvised Flamethrower
Current Vehicle:
Level 3. Dodge Omni
Available Vehicles:
Level 1. Chevy Chevelle
Level 2. Ford Pinto
Level 4. AMC Gremlin
Level 5. Yugo GV
Level 6. Ford Taurus
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Level 7. Chevy Cavalier
Level 8. Pontiac Aztek
Level 9. Chrysler LeBaron Convertible
Level 10. Honda Civic
Level 11. Toyota Corolla
Level 12. Nissan Sentra
Level 13. Ford Ranger
Holy shit… I had gone up 10 levels?! The amount of options that I now had access to boggled my mind, but the real shit kicker was the magnitude of these powers. A fucking flame thrower? What did they think we were going to go up against? While there was no doubt that flame throwers and turrets were completely badass, why the hell would I need to immolate my fares? Either Dispatch expected some collateral damage, such as the National Guard, or they expected Endrs to face creatures like the Fines. What else would explain the weaponry now at my disposal?
“You still alive, man?” a choppy male voice asked from the front seat. My hearing was improving with every moment, but it still wasn’t back to normal.
“What’s happening?”
He chuckled. “Seems like I’m always trying to point Endrs in the right direction. Sit tight a bit longer; we’re almost there.”
A few minutes later, the car rolled to a stop. An arm came over the front seat, and then a face. He looked just as he sounded, as if he had been pulled from an old Cheech and Chong movie. His tan, wrinkled face was surrounded by long, graying hair. What wasn’t slowly turning into dreadlocks in the back was pulled up into a sloppy manbun. Long wisps of rogue hairs flowed down and merged into a primarily white beard that ended halfway down his spindly chest.
“That’s a lot of hair,” I said without thinking.
“That’s a lot of blood,” he shot back.
“Where are we?”
“Long Pond… well, kinda. They built this new solar farm here a while back. It’s perfect to mask your signal.”
I tried to sit up to see the landscape he was describing, but my chest screamed in agony, and I flopped back down on the seat, gasping. The man reached back and helped me sit up. “I thought you’d be healed by now.” He looked at his blood-covered hands for a second, then shook his head and wiped them on his paint-splattered pants.
Grimacing, I tried to anchor myself in an upright position. “Why would you think that?” Beyond the windows, I could see a great angled field of solar panels. It was still dark, and our breath clouded the glass, but there was no mistaking what those massive frames held. I had seen them all over New England in the last few years.
“Just how new to this are you? You have accelerated healing in here,” the man said, slapping the front seat.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The man looked down, hesitating. “Lemme see your phone, Endr.”
I didn’t know what that was about, but if he knew I was an Endr, I shouldn’t be surprised that he knew about my phone. I held it up to him, and he appeared to relax when he saw the screen.
Pointing at it, he said, “It’s the rhythmic flickering you need to watch for, just like I thought! We’re safe here.”
“Safe from who or what?”
“From B.A.D.,” the man said, “Strong electrical fields can sometimes disrupt communication between your phone and the Bureau.”
“From who?” I asked, truly confused.
“The Bureau of Afterlife Dispatch, man. The agency you work for.” He smiled at my shocked expression, then continued speaking. “The name’s Richard Simmons… and before you say it, yes, I know that I have an unfortunate name, and yes, I’ve heard any and every joke you might think of.”
“Richard Simmons?” I couldn’t help myself.
The man shook his head. “That’s what I said. What’s more believable, that you met someone with the same name as a fitness celebrity, or that you drive a magical car for a mythological figure?”
“Good point,” I said. I could already feel some of the wounds on my chest beginning to scab over, and my hearing seemed to be back to normal. I really was recovering quickly inside the car. “But how do you know so much about the Bureau?”
“Simple, man. I’m part of the system, same as you.”
“You’re an Endr?” I asked, incredulously.
“Dispatcher, actually.” Richard rummaged in his pockets on the other side of the front seat and pulled out his phone. “You’re one of fourth_wall’s, from Boston, aren’t you?”
I nodded and cringed as I sat fully up and started flexing my chest and back. “There’s some weird shit going on, I think.”
“More than you know,” he said, with a laugh. “Those shades you were fighting aren’t from this world.”
“No kidding.” The sarcasm in my words spoke for itself. “The Boston Endrs called them Fines, and I’m assuming that the one with the damaged eye was from the Khthon Vale, or wherever I sent my last fare to from Charlestown… Like, maybe it escaped when she crossed over? But there were two tonight, which blows that theory out of the water, since I have no idea where the second would have come from.”
Richard’s mouth thinned, and his expression went flat, a strange combination with his hippie vibe. Finally, he said, “Not quite. Those shades are from the underworld, Max, and someone let them out.”
- - -
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