“What if I say no?”

“Then your monster-god brethren get to stay down in the dark and I turn you off like a light-switch. You said it. Something’s changed. It’s gone wrong, and I need you to fix it. Now go.”

The old man’s face stretches into an inhuman sneer. “As you wish.”

He heads toward one of the tunnels branching off of the quarry.

They fade through the rock. The reaper-cloaks abandon their men and are gone. Leaving Sandhogs behind, bloody but breathing.

Mookie stands. Arms useless. Heart barely thudding. He feels like a heavy stack of bricks on the back of a donkey – swaying left, swaying right. But still he stands. Thanks to the Blue Blazes shooting through him like a hot jet of magma.

“Thanks,” is the only word he can manage. He says it to everyone.

“We shoulda let you die,” Burnsy says.

Skelly punches him in the arm. Mookie gives her a rare smile. He knows it’s an ugly thing, his smile: all lop-sided, his underbite forcing his teeth to poke out over his upper lip. But she smiles back. And winks at him. A small moment, but one that makes him happy.

Nora links her arm in his. “We better get you–”

The radio at Sorago’s hip crackles.

“Sorago. Answer me. Over.”

They share a look. The radio hisses. “What’s going on down there? Over.”

“They’re up there,” Nora says. “Waiting.”

“Motherfucker was probably gonna be the one pushing the plunger on this dynamite,” Burnsy says. He walks over and yanks on the sheared det-cord, pulling a dozen sticks of dynamite from their hole.

“Not a plunger,” Mookie rasps. “Button.”

Burnsy grabs his crotch. “I got your button right here.”

“Would you guys be quiet?” Skelly says. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Burnsy asks, but she shushes him, taps her ear.

Somewhere far off is an infernal roar.

“What is that?” Nora asks, voice low.

“Him,” Mookie says. “The Boss.”

“Oh, shit,” Nora says.

Skelly pales. “I saw… I saw what he can do.”

“We have to go,” Nora says. “We have to leave.”

“But where? How?” Skelly asks. “This is a dead-end. And the way out is a one-way street straight toward–”

The wail and roar again. Closer this time.

“We can’t fight him,” Skelly says.

“I’m gonna have to,” Mookie says. Everything hurts. He can barely lift a fist to swing it. If only he had the Red Rage. Maybe he could grab some dynamite and… “Hold up. I got an idea.”

His voice is sluggish. Mush-mouthed. But he tells them in a string of broken words.

Burnsy’s blistery lips twist into a dramatic frown. “I fucking hate you, did I ever tell you that?”

“Sorry.” Mookie shrugs. “Better hurry. Gotta get these fans set up.”