“You won’t live long enough to pay it,” he grumbles, teasing a smile out of her. She reaches into her pocket and presses something into his hand. “What’s this?” he asks, the color draining from his face.

“Your money.” She pats his shoulder. “I won’t live long enough to need it, right?” She slips another knife from the display and tucks it in her pocket.

Auggie’s eyes well, but his expression’s stony when he turns to me. “Go on, boy. You heard the lady. Find something you like.”

Kai stuffs her backpack with gear as I strip off my coat and slip my arms through a leather shoulder holster. Two hunting knives hang snugly against my ribs, their leather grips within easy reach. Their shape reminds me of a knife Amber once gave to Woody, and I feel the familiar pang of his loss as I secure the knives back in their sheaths.

Exploring the racks and displays, I step through a beaded curtain into another room. The tight rows of shelves are stocked with survival gear: canned food, jugs of water, batteries and generators, lanterns, medical kits, compasses, fire spits. I pause in front of an empty glass display case, eyes widening as I realize what I’m looking at: the domed lid of a stasis chamber. It looks like some kind of Frankensteinian junkyard creation, cobbled together from the parts of models I haven’t seen in the Observatory since before the turn of the millennium.

“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” Auggie says, coming up behind me. “I hear the new ones have all kinds of fancy bells and whistles. But this one’s really something. Found all the parts and built it myself.”

“Does it work?” I ask, tracing the surface with a finger.

“The chamber itself powers up just fine. Without a transmitter, it’s hard to know if it actually works.” He shrugs. “I’m good with a pair of pliers and a screwdriver, but I’m no expert in computers. Never have been able to get the thing online. When you all are done with whatever nonsense you’re up to, maybe you can come back and show an old man how it’s done.” He turns to leave with a plaintive nod, and the beaded curtain rustles in his wake.

I load my jacket down with matches, a flashlight, a roll of electrical tape, a handful of smoke grenades, and a small utility knife. Patting my pockets, I still feel ill-equipped.

A flicker of movement catches my attention. I turn in time to catch a black leather case against my chest. “I heard you’re good with these,” Kai says.

The case rattles softly as I turn it over and unzip it, revealing a set of the most beautiful lockpicks I’ve ever seen. “Who told you that?”