I woke up in the ash and the dirt. From the way light seemed to tear its way through my eyes and into my skull, and from the throbbing pain I felt by my temple, I figured I must have hit my head. I tried to stand, but my shoulder crunched painfully and I collapsed again. I looked up, tears blinking in my eyes from the pain, at the source of light. I lay on the ground in a kind of warehouse with a hole in the roof; our hot air balloon hung limply above me, basket spilling out. The room spun.

I pushed myself up with my other arm, gritting my teeth. The warehouse was sparsely occupied by construction equipment. In the middle of the floor, covered in ash and light from the hole in the roof, was Brigg.

I stood and limped over to him, still clutching my shoulder.

I knew at the first look that he was dead. A wet hole the size of a baseball gaped in his chest, and his face was lifeless, gray with ash and bloodless pallor.

I looked away. Tears stung my eyes.

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I'd never lost anyone before. I'd never seen a dead body. Especially not one of a friend. I wished I was back at my desk job. I wished none of this had ever happened.

And I thought of Lee, in Chicago; how many people had the burning chunk of Mumbai killed? Was she one of them? Was Moira?

I found Rizzo's body shortly after, hanging from the basket of the balloon like a discarded toy. This wasn't easy either, but it was easier than seeing Brigg. Part of me, the part of the brain that will do anything to survive, despite the costs, began to search for supplies. I took whatever I could off of Rizzo, but couldn't make myself take anything from Brigg. I searched the basket, grabbed the food Lee sent us with, and loaded everything I could into my pack.

I layered as many clothes as I could; Berlin was colder than Chicago, somehow - maybe altitude was something that existed in the Void. And then I walked over to Brigg. I was going to say something, something meaningful. Perform a last rite - but Brigg was an atheist. I didn't even know what I was anymore.

Instead I said: "Goodbye, buddy," and bent over to close his eyes.

After a moment of silence, I heard the cock of a shotgun behind me.

"Turn around slowly," said a woman's voice with a thick German accent. "Or I'll blow your fucking brains out."