They both stood there, shooting until their slides locked back empty. Franks counted fifteen new holes in his body. The demon was a very good shot. The cargo bay was filled with the stink of carbon. Spent shell casings rolled toward the back of the plane. “Damn . . .” I felt that. Suddenly dizzy, Franks slowly moved over and braced himself against the side of the truck so he wouldn’t fall over. The other demon was still standing.

The plane began to roll further toward the side.

The demon soldier turned and looked at the bullet holes high up the metal behind him. Then he looked back at Franks as the plane continued to turn. “You hit the pilot!”

Franks shrugged. “Whoops.”

Kurst seemed to be focusing on something, but it was hard to tell with his face missing. The demon soldier was confused and frustrated. Kurst snarled. “I said go fly the plane, Thymos! You will take us to our new home!”

“But General—”

“Now!”

The demon ran back toward the cockpit.

The two former champions of the host watched each other. Their angle was getting worse. Kurst slid across the floor that they’d lubricated with their blood until he stopped at the fuselage. Franks looked suspiciously at the truck as it creaked and got ready to flip over on top of him, but then the roll stopped, and the plane slowly righted itself as the demon took back the controls.

“You’re dying, Franks. I can tell.” Kurst slowly straightened his leg out, cracking the mangled joint back into place. “I’m not. I’ll get better. You’re out of your precious Elixir. You’re done.”

Franks rested his head against the cool glass of the growth tank. “Just need to . . . catch my breath . . .” He was low on blood and oxygen, and all his nonvital systems had shut down. The other demon would correct their course, put it on autopilot, then he’d come back here and finish Franks off at his leisure.

Mission failure was unacceptable.

Normally, Franks would rather die than fail a mission, and since he was dying anyway, that made this decision extremely easy. Franks pulled himself along the side of the truck until he reached the door.

“What’re you doing?” Kurst asked.

Franks opened the door. The keys were still in the ignition. He climbed up and got in. The engine turned right over. STFU kept up on their maintenance.

“No, Franks. Don’t do that.” Kurst forced himself to stand up.

Franks revved the engine.

Kurst began hopping desperately toward the truck.