There. Mind the cables, mind the cables!” Cyrus said, as his brothers loaded the rest of the prototype’s power system in the back of the Chevy. Once it was in there, he cinched up the tarps as best he could, while Helena got the other side.


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    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


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    Doesn’t seem like the cowardly way,” Cy said, watching the cars go by, and only restarting the engine once they’d been gone for a good thirty count. “I know how this place operates. The mob didn’t get blood at Bunktown. They’ll want ours. The sheriff would make himself real


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    At least it’s not my own skin sizzling,


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    Why… god dammit.” Cyrus said, leaning on the lip of the truck bed. He’d been through a night already, and all his aches and pains were acting up, now. His legs had gotten softer and he’d gotten fatter, since the last time he’d had to do anything remotely near this much activity. He ached. He was tired. He had bruises, and when’s the last time he had those? He wanted to be done


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    he could rely on…