Gunshot! Gunshot! Gunshot! Manny thought, and he giggled a little bit. The sounds of chaos and violence that had erupted inside the factory could only be Roland’s doing. Manny lifted up his head with considerable effort and looked over, toward the waiting area where most of the guards had sat idle. It was a mess now. Several of the chairs and one of the big tables were mashed together with a chunky red paste that resembled good salsa. People salsa! He thought, and then giggled again.

Manny caught a glimpse of Roland as the chromed man rocketed across the factory floor and into a trio of guards. The men didn’t even have the chance to fire their weapons. The first guard burst like a balloon full of jelly. It was hard to tell exactly what happened next, as it occurred under a red cloud of human viscera. Manny slipped—in his own blood—and fell back onto the floor. He stared up at the ceiling for a little while and just focused on trying to keep his breath steady. There was nothing else he could do here, anyway.

“Emmanuel?”

Sasha? He thought.

“Glaaugh?” he said.

“It’s OK.” He felt her warm hand on his forehead. “Don’t talk. You’ve been shot but you’re probably not going to die.”

Probably? He had to admire her fundamental honesty.

“I’m going to try and drag you out of here. If you can walk, that would be really helpful.”

She grabbed Manny under the armpits and tried to pull him up. He let out a coughing cry at the pain of being moved again. But he also realized, late in the game, that he still had some control over his legs. He pushed up and, with Sasha’s help, fought gravity well enough that he soon stood under (mostly) his own power. Sasha wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder and took some of the weight off his weakened limbs. And then, together, they hobbled free of the charnel factory that had almost been his tomb.

An hour later, Manny sat with Roland and Sasha on the roof of an old Bank of America and watched as the Tesla factory burned in the distance. Manny had passed out almost as soon as Sasha got him out the door. He recalled waking up a few times during the run away from the factory. At some point, Roland had met up with them and started carrying him.

He’d come to on the roof of the old bank building, just in time to see Roland dribble a trail of weird-ass blood into his gunshot wound. He’d felt a little revulsion at the act, but it passed once his pain dissolved. I should really find a way to bottle that stuff, he thought.

“What happened?” Manny asked, once reality had solidified a little more.