I explained the series of events leading up to my death and the surreal conversation with the Eternal. Cali took a deep breath, her grip on the steering wheel loosening and tightening. After I finished the story, silence hung heavy between us, a long pause that made me wonder if she was about to throw me out of the truck.
“Only you, Jack. Only you.” Her voice was soft, almost as if she wasn’t speaking to me at all.
Slowly, she shook her head, her gaze drifting off into the distance as cars streaked past like steel bullets, racing toward whatever destiny awaited them. She took another deep, slow breath, gave a subtle nod, and shifted the truck back into gear. She shot me a smile, as if nothing was wrong—and for a moment, I almost believed it. She had that way about her, an unshakable faith that everything was just as it should be, part of some hidden plan. I wished I had even a drop of that certainty.
“Alright, zombie boy. Let’s get you patched up at the shop.”
She hit the gas, and we were back on the road, speeding towards her garage. The tension slowly eased, replaced by a strange sense of normalcy in the midst of the chaos. I leaned back, feeling the weariness creep in.
The steady hum of the engine lulled us into a comfortable silence as we drove down the winding road. My friend smiled genuinely as she started talking again. “I finally finished fixing her up,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “She’s waiting for you back at the shop. And I even managed a few improvements.”
She shifted gears effortlessly. I furrowed my brows, concern etched on my face. “Improvements?”
Cali grinned mischievously and reassured me, “You’ll love it, you big grouch.”
I reached out to pat her shoulder in friendly thanks, but a sharp pain shot through my body like a bolt of lightning, causing me to recoil in agony. Every movement felt like being stabbed with hot knives, and I gritted my teeth to hide the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.
“You’re the most skilled mechanic and Hexsmith I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. If I trust anybody with her, it’s you.”
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Cali chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “And don’t you dare forget it.” Her eyes, bright and sparkling like stars in the night sky, radiated with pride and confidence as she playfully nudged me with her elbow. I squashed the pain down.
As the truck bounced over potholes, every jolt made the damaged wiring buzz and flicker with Infernum sparks.
“Quit fussing with it,” Cali said, glancing over with a sharp look. “You’ll just make it worse.”
We reached her place, a modest apartment behind her family’s fuel station and repair shop. She helped me inside, her touch careful yet firm. Martin, her scruffy mutt with one ear flopped over and a tail that never stopped wagging, came over at the noise. He hesitated at first, but after sniffing me for a moment, he started nuzzling my leg. I petted him absentmindedly.
Cali guided me to sit on a stool in the kitchen. She turned on the light and got her first good look at my entire body. Her eyes widened, and she took a sharp breath, clearly trying to keep it together.
“How bad is it? Give it to me straight.”
“You look like a half-eaten dog biscuit,” she said.
“Don’t hold back now.”
“You look like you lost a fight with a wood chipper. Like last month’s meatloaf.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
“You ever see a piñata after a kids’ party? It’s kind of like that, except they didn’t stop after they got the candy.”
“Alright already.”
She disappeared into the shop, the sound of drawers opening and tools clattering echoing through the quiet. When she returned, her arms were full: a roll of black tape, a first aid and repair kit meant for Bots like me, a needle and thread, a few vials of coolant and sealant, and a small handheld mirror.
Taking the mirror, I inspected myself under the harsh kitchen light. She wasn’t kidding.
My skin carried the hue of a forgotten antique, an ashen gray that caught the flicker of the streetlights in a ghostly glow. It wasn’t just the color; it was the texture too—like dried leather left out to rot, rough and cracked, the kind of surface that told you time gave up trying to erode it. Deep creases slashed across my face, the remnants of a past buried long before its time, and my eyes, sunken into shadowed hollows, peered out like they’d been staring at the dark for too long.
She didn’t even flinch when she saw the sparks jumping from my arm. Instead, she rolled up her sleeves and grabbed the repair kit. “Hold still,” she said, her voice steady, calm.
She reached into the kit, pulling out a pair of insulated pliers and a small tool with a faintly glowing tip. The smell of burnt wiring filled the air as she worked, cutting away the damaged components with precision.
“Looks like you fried a servo and shorted the stabilizer circuit,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. Her fingers moved deftly, unwinding a sparking wire and replacing it with a new one from her kit. She sealed it with a few quick taps of her soldering iron, the sharp tang of molten metal cutting through the room.