Trash bags pressed against my face, danger flashing all over my body. The dumpster creaked from its perch on the remains of the bridge’s guard rail. And framed by the hole in the steel, a lone, sun-drenched sailboat carved through the bay hundreds of feet below.

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting my lungs fill with sour stink. “Matt. My ass is hanging out over the bay. Please tell me you’re alright.”

Garrett buzzed from my pocket. “I believe Matt is offline.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What the hell does that mean?” My shoulder was in pretty bad shape, and I’d lost some feeling in the wrist where RoboDog had chowed down. It was a wonder that thing hadn’t broken any of my bones. I tucked my hand into an armpit.

“From what I can tell on the traffic cameras, his RV is in dire need of repair.”

I cried out, a sudden wracking sob. I had this picture of Matt bloodied and broken, slumped in the driver’s seat. Easing my phone from my pocket, I clutched it to my ear.

“How are you doing?” Garrett asked.

The silhouette of a helicopter nodded into view against pale sky, glittering office buildings and bay view mansions rimming the shoreline below.

I winced through a swell of nausea. “I’ve been better.” It sure looked like the chopper from the FBI building. I couldn’t let them have the portal. I couldn’t lose Mom. Everyone had chased this dumpster here for a reason. It had to mean there weren’t a bunch of spare portals sitting around. But here I was, useless, teetering on a razor-edged fulcrum over the bay. I needed a way out.

Indistinct shouts and the snap of gunfire broke through my daze. “Who’s shooting?”

“I believe it’s Athleisure and LYPD,” Garrett said. “Father would be quite upset if he saw this. If he knew I was involved.”

I swallowed, my eyes drifting closed again. “I thought you were looking for the Talisman for him. Wouldn’t he be happy you’re trying to help?”

“I planned to make it a surprise, to bring him this device he’s wanted for years. All the money in the world can’t seem to heal him, but maybe instead I can make him … proud.”

“It seems like he’s got a lot to be proud of already.”

Garrett let out a nervous laugh. “Perhaps you’re right.”

I pushed back a frown. “Of course I’m right.” My wrist, pressed wetly into my armpit, was soaking through my hoodie.

“Hey,” Matt’s voice boomed from my phone.

My heart surged. “Matt! Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay. Can’t say the same about my radiator—or the Prius I plowed into.” The drumming of gunfire buzzed over the line. “Crap. Someone’s shooting. I’m just … moving to the back.”

The chopper drifted closer, its cockpit gleaming. This was bad. Real bad. The wind picked up and the dumpster swayed sickeningly in the shadow of a suspension tower. I knew in the pit of my stomach I was going over. But the steel creaked back, and I breathed a shallow sigh.

If I climbed out of the dumpster, I could give it a shove into the bay. With a spent hand cannon though, I’d be easy pickings for Athleisure—or a government whirlybird intent on recapturing the portal. I wasn't exactly super mobile right now.

Is this how Ko Prime had felt, hunted and alone under the bridge? I scooched back, away from the yawning hole and the remains of RoboDog. More gunfire and the roar-sizzle of an Iriguchi, closer now. I pressed my arm tighter around my wrist. Here I sat in a fricking portal that could, in theory, whisk me out of harm’s way—only with no way to open it.

My hand cannon was growing uncomfortably hot against my belly. “Garrett, this gun is getting, like, super hot. Is there maybe something … wrong with it?”

“One moment.” He muttered to himself. “Table of contents. Safety, Operating Modes, Voice Control, Self-Destruct, Caring and Maintenance, Troubleshooters. Hmm, there’s a section about heat management. In the case of unmitigated overheating due to warranty violation, it says, the product will initiate self-destruct—a safety countdown of three seconds, followed by a small …” He trailed off.

A chill descended on me. “What? What is it?”

“Thermonuclear blow-up.”

“For real?” Matt said over shouting from further up the bridge deck. “A nuclear detonation is exactly what we don’t need right now. Ko, you need to dump that gun in the water.”

My stomach was having an out-of-body experience. I kind of agreed with him, only there was a major problem. “There’s a suspension tower right here, which means I’m above a support pier, right? And isn’t dropping a nuke onto the bridge pier that’s supporting everyone kind of … a bad idea? Even if the blast doesn’t sink this whole bridge span into the bay, it’ll knock the dumpster off the edge for sure.” My skin was on fire beneath the Iriguchi. I shouldered my phone against an ear, folding a heavy bag around the gun and pulling it free.

“So climb out first!”

“Not with Athleisure out there. Plus I'm not sure I even can climb right now.” Gears spun in my head. “But I could throw the gun clear of the bridge. And if I time it right, it’ll blow before it gets anywhere near the foundations.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Matt’s voice rose. “You wanna try to direct a nuke while hanging over the bay? Just dump it into the water. Now.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The rhythmic beat of the helicopter drew close. “I’m going to. Just … without taking us all out with it. You and Garrett are probably far enough away, but my Mom is right here.” Blood and tears ran from my chin.

“I agree with Matt,” Garrett said. “Throwing it seems like an unnecessary risk. And this is coming from me. If I’m reading this correctly, the blast radius is only a few meters.”

“There’s gotta be another way,” Matt said. “Please, let us help. I’ll see what I have in the RV to deal with Athleisure. Just climb out and dump the gun over the side.”

My tongue was thick in my mouth. Footfalls pounded the bridge, gunfire rattling metal and glass. Athleisure had me cornered. “You can help by staying back.”

“Stanton has Athleisure pinned down.” There was desperation in Matt’s voice. “He doesn’t even know I’m here! I can rig up something with a fire extinguisher and some creamer, light it on fire. You know, make a distraction so you can—”

“Matt.” I brushed blood from my brow, my face screwing up. His insistence on a hair-brained pyro plan tugged at my heart. Part of me wanted to go along with it, let him save me. I knew he’d move heaven and earth for me, and I’d like to think I’d do the same for him. Even though I’d be sitting here the whole time praying he didn’t get shot, Matt’s plan might have been our best bet.

A lone seagull traced a soaring path high above the bay, its dark wingtips outstretched. I wavered, almost giving Matt the go-ahead. But the words caught in my throat, my grip tightening around the railgun. No, this was something I needed to do myself. Make sure it went right, without putting Mom or Matt at greater risk than they already were. I wasn’t nuking the bridge pier holding everyone up, and I wasn’t letting Athleisure’s creepy robot hands anywhere near me.

“So how’re we doing this?” Matt asked.

The gunfire was almost on top of me. The Iriguchi seared my hand through the bag. “We aren’t.”

“Please, don’t do anything—”

“Stupid?”

“—without us.”

“That’s just it,” I said. “I need to do this myself. I’m not letting you get shot.”

“Goddamn it, Ko,” Matt said. “Why won’t you ever let anyone help you?”

“Garrett, where is Athleisure now?”

“You should listen to him,” Garrett said flatly.

“No, you two listen to me. I’m not gonna let the bridge get nuked. I’m the one in this godforsaken dumpster. It’s my mom at risk here. This is my decision.”

“Ko, please,” Matt whispered. “This affects us all. I’m telling you this is a bad idea.” The slam of a door came through the phone, heavy breathing. “I’m coming to get you!”

What the hell? If I was doing this, it had to be before Matt got near—or got himself gunned down. “How far away is Athleisure now?” I asked, steel in my voice.

“Perhaps ten meters,” Garrett said.

“And my Mom? Stanton?”

“Another twenty, behind a vehicle.”

That was a enough distance, right? I had a chance here to direct the blast away from everyone and make it blow before it reached the bridge foundations. I’d be crazy to literally throw that away. It was just physics. I’d chucked plenty of rocks into the flood canal as a kid. This was like a big, explosive rock.

I slid my phone into a pocket, pulling trash bags toward me—moving the dumpster’s center of gravity as far back as possible.

“Ko, stop,” Matt said. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Let’s figure this out.”

Footsteps drew closer. The sailboat slowed as if unsure about the events unfolding on the bridge.

The fingers of my good hand reddened on the bag-wrapped Iriguchi, almost too hot to hold now. We were out of time. I licked my lips, my throat tight, tears briny on my tongue. When I spoke, my voice echoed in my ears.

“Trigger self-destruct.”

The gun chimed happily, a serene voice speaking in a timeless accent: “Do you agree to hold Iriguchi Corporation and its subsidiaries harmless against claims of property damage, injuries, or death in connection with this action?”

Tilting my face skyward, I squinted into the glare. I had this image of Matt stooped outside his wrecked RV, fire extinguisher in one hand, economy-size non-dairy creamer in the other, his face turned to stone, all angles. I desperately hoped I would see him again. That I would see anyone again.

“I agree,” I said, my heart revving into overdrive.

“Self-destruct countdown initiated,” the hand cannon said, cool and clear.

On “three,” I pushed to my feet through lancing pain and the crashing in my ears, planting my boots as far back as I could. I was dimly aware of a sea of wrecked vehicles beyond the dumpster, Athleisure’s grinning face behind them.

On “two,” I wound up for an overhand throw and flung the Iriguchi hard, a lazy arc clear out of the dumpster and over the bridge railing.

On “one,” I breathed. A soaring whine ramped up, like the beat was about to drop in one of Matt’s terrible house songs. I wrung the hem of my hoodie, praying this all worked out—squeezing my eyes shut, breath held tight, in case it didn’t.

The world exploded, a pair of back-to-back wind gusts slamming into me, a wall of light flaring beyond my eyelids. Heat seared my lungs and the roar made my eardrums throb.

Then everything lurched away at a sickening angle—and I slid out of the dumpster into empty sky.

Dread bubbled inside me, a silent scream trapped in my throat. My eyes were wide open and I was plummeting toward the bay headfirst. A shadow loomed above me, the water sparkling below, nothing but drumming in my chest.

Tendrils of fear licked at me. It hadn’t worked. I was on my way to certain death. That shock rattled me to my bones, every fiber of my being screaming in the face of inevitability.

The water rushed up to meet me, tiny whitecaps tugging at the surface. My heart trilled in my throat. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was supposed to save Mom and Matt. I’d failed them. I’d failed myself. I’d done the best I could.

It hadn’t been enough.

Right before I hit, I cried out, my hands outthrust. A flash of pain strobed through me as if my flesh was peeling back, beginning at my fingertips.

I descended through a cold whirl of white. Was I dead? Did it end on impact? Fear engulfed me, commingled with harrowing pain. I should be dead. Nobody could survive that fall. The human body would just … shatter.

I looked around. Darkness. I moved an arm. Piercing cold. By instinct, I reached for my watch and pressed the light button.

Two odd things happened. First, the watch lit up, hemmed in on all sides by an expanse of watery shadow. The display read 2:18 p.m. Because of course the Casio F-91Z survived a nuclear blast.

Second, something was wrong with my fingers gripping the watch—they were long and thin and colorless in the wan light.

Skeletal.

Metallic.

Almost … robotic.

…

Wait, why would they—

Ohhhh …

Fuck me.