They parted ways under the streetlamp’s flickering beam at the bus stop. Erinel returned to the storage facility, while Mioray stayed behind, listening to the buzzing sound the streetlamp emitted. Alone at the bus stop, his thoughts began to churn. Why did Erinel trust him? She had allowed him to go home, but only under the condition that he would return to the storage facility immediately after.

  But what if he didn’t? The question felt silly, yet it lingered. What would happen if he broke his promise? Surely Erinel and the others knew where he lived. Would they come for him? Would they harm his parents?

  “No point in thinking about it, Mioray,” he muttered to himself, catching his ghostly reflection in the bus stop enclosure’s glass. “We both know you’ll do as she asked.”

  It sounded simple, but it wasn’t. Mioray had no idea what to tell his parents about his two-week absence or how to explain why he disappeared after the attack on the university. For that matter, they didn’t even know he’d lost his left arm. They’ll be shocked to see me like this. What would they think if he told them he was dead? Mioray imagined their reactions if he explained greanrips, wandering souls, and his new role guiding them to the afterlife.

  They’d think he’d lost not only his arm but his mind as well.

  He had nothing. There was still time before he reached home, but was it enough to come up with a plausible explanation? It had to be something extraordinary, something that would convince them to let him go again. The last time he vanished, they had no clue where he was. This time, they had every reason to fear he was dead. Once they realized he was alive, they wouldn’t let him out of their sight.

  It might have been fine, if not for the fact that the exploding man was still at large. With him targeting Mioray, anyone close to him was in danger. He needed to keep his distance until the madman was dealt with. But how long would that take?

  Then a darker thought occurred to him. What if, by some cruel coincidence, the exploding man is nearby right now? Everything would be over quickly. Mioray wouldn’t even have to face his parents.

  “Trying to avoid me, funny guy?” a voice suddenly whispered in his ear.

  Startled, Mioray jumped and spun around. He braced himself for the worst but found himself staring at a blonde man in a white T-shirt and beige coat. It was Terry Strands, the racer he’d met before. He had a tote bag slung over his shoulder, with black, faceted rubber sticking out. Likely a pair of wheel tires for a scooter.

  Oddly enough, the tote bag drew more attention because it featured a print of Terry’s face. That’s right. Terry Strands was using his own merchandise.

  “What are you doing here?” Mioray asked, still catching his breath.

  “Nothing much,” Terry replied, glancing at the timetables. “I was just walking down the street when I saw you, but you didn’t even blink. Figured maybe you were hoping I wouldn’t notice you.”

  “No, I wasn’t hiding or anything. Sorry about that. I was just lost in thought.”

  “It’s fine, Mioray.” Terry clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “Could be the aftereffects of, you know, our condition. It’s easy to forget to blink. Try not to, though. It’s kind of creepy otherwise.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Mioray said, nodding. Was he really not blinking? He blinked deliberately now, but it didn’t feel any different. Then he saw his bus approaching. “Well, that’s mine.”

  “Mind if I tag along?” Terry asked.

  Mioray hesitated. He had only just met Terry and wasn’t thrilled about leading him to his home. Then again, it wasn’t as if it would be hard for someone like Terry or the others to find out where he lived. Kevin, for example, had seemed like the kind of guy who did his homework. He probably already knew everything about Mioray.

  Terry at least seemed friendly. Maybe he could provide more insight into the life Mioray was about to face.

  Hopefully, he’s not the Dismantler.

  “Sure,” Mioray said, stepping onto the bus. “Why not?”

  At this hour, the streets were mostly deserted. People preferred their cozy homes after a long Monday at work. The bus was nearly empty, apart from Mioray, Terry, and the driver. There were plenty of seats to choose from, but Terry strode ahead and claimed a window seat at one of the four-seat clusters. Shrugging, Mioray sat across from him.

  For a while, they rode in silence. Terry gazed out the window with a dreamy smile, while Mioray watched him, waiting for him to speak. Surely Terry had some reason for tagging along. But halfway to Mioray’s stop, the racer still seemed lost in his own thoughts. Meanwhile, the image of Terry’s face on the tote bag grinned at Mioray, its sparkling smile oddly unnerving.

  “Don’t you worry that people might recognize you?” Mioray finally asked, unable to endure the silent stare of the portrait any longer.

  “Why?” Terry looked down at the bag, then grinned at his printed likeness. “Because of this? I actually find it helpful. People see me like this and think I’m just a fan copying Terry Strands’ style.”

  Mioray doubted it worked that way but decided to let it go. There were more important things to discuss while they still had time on the bus.

  “So,” Mioray began, “how’s the job been? You know, guiding souls to the afterlife?”

  “Like a breeze at the coast,” Terry replied cheerfully. For all his quirks, he was surprisingly open. “I found this old couple, they were ready to accept death and move forward. Very sweet people. They even said I reminded them of their grandson. What about you? First time seeing souls, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess it went alright,” Mioray said, recalling the strange hostility Erinel had shown when Andrew refused to enter the portal. Why had she acted like that? Did she treat all the souls that way? “What do you think happens to the souls when they enter the realm between realms?”

  “I don’t know,” Terry said after a moment of thought. “I reckon they end up on some tropical island where the sun never sets and the fun never ends. By the way, the soul you found, was it naked?”

  Mioray blinked. That was a weird question. The abrupt shift in topic only made it stranger.

  “Umm… no?”

  Terry shook his head like he’d just had an epiphany. Mioray decided to wait for an explanation.

  “They rarely are,” Terry said with exasperation, as though the phenomenon personally offended him. “And everyone acts like that’s normal! It doesn’t make sense, don’t you think? I mean, the soul is what’s inside us, right? So, it taking the shape of our bodies is fine. But the clothes? Are clothes part of the soul too?”

  Mioray opened his mouth but realized he had no answer. If it were a quiz question, he’d get a big, fat zero. The bus hissed to a stop, its doors opening to an empty street. After a beat, they shut, and the bus continued on its route.

  Andrew’s soul had worn clothes. They hadn’t been physical, of course, but ephemeral, just like Andrew himself. Maybe the clothes were part of him. A manifestation of whatever made him feel whole. If souls could take shape, why not include the clothes they died in?

  “Is that the only thing that makes you question how this world operates?” Mioray asked, adjusting his stump slightly.

  “Of course not,” Terry said, shifting in his seat. “Trust me, after a while, you get used to most of it. Like Erinel turning her fingers into tree branches, sharing her powers, or seeing ghosts and all that. But you know what I can’t get used to?” He leaned forward with a mischievous glint. “Not eating. Man, I miss the taste of a good medium-rare steak.”

  “Ah, so it’s not just me who can’t eat?” Mioray asked, intrigued.

  “Yeah, it’s all of us. Whatever you eat just comes right back out of your mouth.”

  “That’s strange. How does Matt eat those lollipops, then?”

  “Must be tied to his ability. Like how Kevin’s fingernails grow back instantly instead of reattaching.”

  Mioray couldn’t help but picture Kevin sitting at his desk, furiously clipping his nails like a high-speed sewing machine, bits of keratin flying in every direction. The mental image made him smirk.

  Terry, oblivious to Mioray’s imagination, continued. “But it’s not all bad. We can still drink water, for example. No idea why or what happens to it, though. I can’t even remember the last time I needed to use the toilet. Probably back when I was alive.” He chuckled. “When you think about it, some wild stuff happened to us. I couldn’t make this up even if I were high, and trust me, I’ve been there. Though, I used to wonder what it’d be like to reincarnate as a car. I guess this is as close as it gets.”

  Mioray tilted his head. At first, Terry’s words seemed random, but then he realized Terry was referring to his ability. The racer had mentioned before that he didn’t need a vehicle to move fast. Even now, the tote bag with its protruding tires hinted at his unique skill.

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  “How does it work for you?” Mioray asked.

  “It’s hard to explain,” Terry said, pausing to think. “The closest comparison would be an engine. Imagine I become an engine. Pumping blood, creating pressure. I can attach wheels to myself and ride like a car. Or a motorcycle. Or even a motorboat, I bet, if I wanted to skim across water.

  “But cars – cars are my thing. The ones with normal wheels? They feel real, you know? Hover cars are cool and all, but there’s something special about your tires gripping the road, feeling the tension, the weight of the vehicle. It’s something I always felt was missing in races.”

  “Didn’t you... die in one of those old cars with wheels?” Mioray asked cautiously.

  “Yep, I died driving one of those old cars with wheels,” Terry said casually, as if recounting a minor inconvenience. “Tried to tame one on the city streets but couldn’t control the beast. Guess I gave myself too much credit. But one of these days, I’ll try it again. You saw the car I was working on back at the self-storage facility?”

  “I did,” it was a car with blue flame decals Mioray saw earlier today. “How’d you even get it in there?”

  “Ah, that,” Terry grinned, clearly enjoying the question. “There’s another door at the back that connects to the parking lot behind the building. Handy, right? Anyway, mark my words, when I’m done with that masterpiece, you’ll hear all about it. Some crazy guy breaking speed limits, accomplishing what the great Terry Strands never could.”

  Mioray frowned. Something Terry Strands couldn’t accomplish? That didn’t make sense. The racer had been a legend. What else could he be chasing?

  “Didn’t you die from reckless driving?” Mioray asked, his voice quieter.

  For a moment, Terry’s ever-present grin faltered, replaced by something fleeting and raw. He caught himself, forcing the smile back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “That’s one way to put it,” he said, his voice softer. “In reality, it was a street race. But the officials kept it under wraps. I had a wager with some of my fellow racers. Said I could win against them in an old-school car with wheels. I lost control, and... Well, I lost and died. But they had their reputations to protect.”

  Mioray’s eyes widened. He’d always thought the details of Terry’s death were suspiciously vague. Most assumed it was a drunk-driving accident. To learn it had been a street race felt darker. Reckless driving, street races – it was a crime. There was a reason it was illegal. It put lives in danger.

  “But I’m back now, right?” Terry said. “That has to mean something. Maybe I’ve got a second chance to prove myself.”

  No way. After causing an accident that killed people, he was still thinking about doing it again?

  “I’d strongly advise against that,” Mioray said, his tone firm. “It’s what got you killed in the first place. I don’t know about second chances or divine plans, but this isn’t about proving anything. For me, it doesn’t feel like some cosmic force decided I deserved another shot. It’s just an accident of circumstance.”

  Terry chuckled, apparently amused. His laughter grated on Mioray, especially since he was trying to be serious. Maybe his words didn’t come across as genuine. Truth be told, Mioray wasn’t entirely convinced of them himself. They had tumbled out of his mouth unfiltered.

  “You’re a funny guy, Mioray,” Terry said with a smirk. “You should count yourself lucky. You got your life back. Not everyone can pull that off, especially when the world already knows you’re dead. But hey, don’t think I’m jealous or anything. I’m honestly glad for you. Must be nice to live again like nothing happened.”

  Mioray didn’t know what to make of Terry. On one hand, he was straightforward, open, and strangely likable in his odd way. On the other, there was a certain selfishness, an unsettling lack of empathy that made him hard to trust. It was as if his obsession with racing had swallowed any consideration for the consequences of his actions. He treated his death, and even the deaths of others, like mere footnotes in his personal saga.

  And as for "living again like nothing happened"? That couldn’t be further from the truth. Mioray had woken up in a morgue, got torn from the nightmare of the university attack, only to later face the reality that his world had been upended. The memory of the exploding man flashed in his mind: the red-black eyes, the unnerving grimace, the devastation he had wrought. Chris and Julie… He’d almost forgotten about them amidst everything else today. Were they dead? If so, were their souls still wandering somewhere, waiting for guidance?

  “Isn’t this your stop?” Terry’s voice cut into his thoughts, jolting him. Mioray had mentioned where his stop was when they boarded the bus.

  He glanced out the window and realized the bus had stopped. It was his stop. He jumped to his feet, almost stumbling as he rushed to the exit. Terry followed without hesitation.

  “What were you zoning out about?” Terry asked as they began walking toward Mioray’s house, still about ten minutes away.

  Mioray recounted the attack on the university, describing the madman with regenerative limbs and his horrifying power to explode on impact.

  “I was there too,” Terry said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Didn’t see the guy, though. I was waiting in the car while Erinel and Kevin went into action. But that’s odd. None of us can regenerate that fast. We’ve done some, uh, ‘experiments.’ Just for science, you know. I bet Kevin must’ve been fuming when he realized the guy could recover instantly.”

  “Right,” Mioray muttered, unsure how to feel about their casual “experiments.”

  “I did notice something,” he added after a moment. “He needed a trigger to activate his ability. An impact. Like hitting, pressing, or even just touching something.”

  Terry’s eyes lit up, and he stopped mid-step, looking inspired. “That’s a great observation! From now on, we’ll call him… Impact Corpse!”

  “A what now?” Mioray asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Terry struck a dramatic pose, thrusting out his chest like he was accepting an award. “Didn’t I mention? Ah, silly me. I like to name things. So, I’ve been coming up with cool aliases for all of us. Classifying us, so to speak. We’re all dead, right? Basically walking corpses. So your exploding guy? Impact Corpse. It fits, doesn’t it? The name tells you exactly what to expect.”

  Mioray tilted his head, struggling to process Terry’s eccentric logic. “Why not just call him Exploding Corpse then?”

  “Too vague,” Terry said, shaking his head as though the idea were beneath him. He took a moment to think before continuing. “From what you described, it doesn’t sound like he’s actually exploding. The impact he creates is so strong, it tears him apart and destroys everything around him. It’s all about the impact. See? Impact Corpse.”

  It was ridiculous. Coming up with names based on their abilities? Was that really something they should be doing? Mioray sighed and resumed walking.

  “Oh, come on, Mioray,” Terry said, catching up with a grin. “I thought you were a funny guy! You should try to enjoy your situation a little. Why keep everything so serious? If you do, it’ll drive you crazy. Here, try to guess my alias.”

  It was Terry who’d started calling him funny; Mioray never introduced himself that way. Under normal circumstances, maybe. But now? There was nothing funny about being dead or about being hunted by Impact Corpse.

  Mioray frowned. The name was already starting to stick in his mind.

  “I don’t know,” Mioray gave up. Terry’s persistence wouldn’t let him escape. “Racer Corpse?”

  Terry clicked his tongue several times. His right eye squinted shut, as though he’d just been hit by a sudden pang of pain.

  “Yeah, we’ll work on that,” he said, patting Mioray on the back like he was a hopeless cause, but one Terry could still transform into something extraordinary. “We’ve got enough plain names in the team already. I won’t tolerate another one. Otherwise, we’ll just be a bunch of hollow dead. No, Mioray. I am Engine Corpse.”

  He said it with a flourish, as if sparks should have flown around him, but reality refused to oblige. It was still nighttime. The streets remained illuminated by streetlamps, the moon hung in its waning phase, and the red planet of Mars shone faintly in the sky.

  “Okay. Engine Corpse. I can work with that,” Mioray said, deciding they might as well keep going. “What about the others?”

  Terry’s face lit up; he was just waiting for that question.

  “Mia is Voice Corpse,” he said with enthusiasm. “Trust me, it makes sense,” he added quickly when Mioray raised an eyebrow. “And yes, she was okay with it, so don’t give me that look.”

  “Matt?” Mioray prompted.

  “At first, I thought about calling him Sticky Corpse, but, ugh, it sounded all wrong. Just listen to it: Sticky Corpse. Makes you think of something gross, doesn’t it? Not suited for our adorable boy. So, I decided to stick – pun intended – with Glue Corpse.”

  Okay. So now they had Impact, Engine, Voice, and Glue Corpses. The day just kept on giving.

  “Wanna try again?” Terry leaned in, his face far too close for comfort. “What would you call Kevin?”

  Mioray hesitated, not confident in his naming abilities. “He can manipulate his fingernails, so maybe Nails Corpse? No, wait, that’s too obvious…”

  He trailed off, murmuring to himself, while Terry could no longer hold back his laughter.

  “Actually, it’s exactly that!” Terry shouted, his voice echoing through the otherwise quiet street. “And he hates it! Dude’s got no chill.”

  Mioray couldn’t help himself. He burst into laughter too. The whole situation was absurd, but in a strangely comforting way. Talking about silly names felt bizarrely normal against the backdrop of their unnatural reality. Dead people brought back to life? Wandering souls? No big deal. But figuring out how to label themselves based on their powers? Now that was serious business.

  “Alright, then,” Mioray managed between laughs. “What about me?”

  “What’s your superpower?”

  Superpower? That made it sound like he was a superhero, which he most definitely wasn’t. Well, as far as he could tell. He’d died, sure, but he wasn’t about to don a cape. Still, the playful banter eased his mind a little. Maybe it was time to stop dwelling on his death and focus on living or whatever this was.

  “Oh, right,” Terry snapped his fingers. “You can detach parts of your body, right?”

  “Something like that. Though, to be honest, I’ve only managed to detach my right arm so far. I’m not sure about the rest.”

  “No worries, we’ll figure it out. But let’s assume you can. Then I dub you…”

  Terry paused dramatically, as if the moment required a drum roll.

  “...Dismantle Corpse.”

  A spark of irritation shot through Mioray. Was Terry mocking him? It felt like he was poking at Mioray’s traumatic death. But then Mioray remembered Kevin’s embarrassing nickname. Maybe this was just how Terry was. He probably meant no harm.

  “What?” Terry asked, noticing Mioray’s scowl. “Come on, it’s actually cool if you think about it. Embrace what killed you, face it head-on, and turn it into a strength. Own it. You’ll be more worthy of that mantle than The Dismantler himself. Screw that guy for messing with my boy!”

  They continued walking toward Mioray’s house, chatting about trivial things. By the time they arrived, Mioray had decided Terry was okay. At least he’d never be boring. Feeling more relaxed, Mioray even mentioned his earlier conversation with Erinel, how she’d never seen a movie and how they’d agreed to go together.

  Terry froze, his jaw dropping.

  “Mioray, you slick bastard!” he shouted. “It’s a date!”

  “What?” Mioray felt a strange, ticklish sensation rise within him. “No, it’s not.”

  “It is! It totally is!” Terry dropped his bag, grabbing Mioray by the shoulders and shaking him. “You funny guy, you! It never even crossed my mind to ask Erinel on a date, and you just swoop in like it’s nothing! You’ve made my day, Mioray. Things are really starting to get interesting.”

  On second thought, Terry was the worst.

  “You’re the worst, Terry,” Mioray grumbled, though he couldn’t quite wipe the smug grin off his face as Terry continued to shake him like a rag doll.

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