The weights were heavy, and Hemi Finster was surviving on pure determination not to let Shannon down. Not that she’s coming back.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he grunted as he pushed on the bar driving the round weights at either end upward. The muscles in his human and cybernetic arms burned. He shouldn’t have cared so much about a woman he barely knew, but then again, his post-surgery hired nurse had been the only one who hadn’t treated him like something fragile or broken. It’s their damn fault I’m this way to begin with.

“You’ve got this,” Gina said on a low note. She shouldn’t have needed to be here, but Hemi knew damn well she carried guilt for what happened to him. More than anyone else does.

So when he needed someone to spot him or work beside him in case anything went wrong with his physical therapy since Shannon had left, Gina was always the first to volunteer.

He embraced those words and let out another sound, more like a low roar, as he pushed the weights up. Gina then held the bar with one hand and put it on the hoists.

“Perfect. Great job. That’s ten reps today and you’re almost not straining. I bet in a week we can move up to thirty pounds on each side. I can get Snapper to bore another hole in a chunk of Marsanium. Not like we’re using it for much else besides sludge.”

Hemi sat up and took the proffered towel from Gina with his human hand. He refused to voice the truth—that sheer willpower had gotten that last rep in. He’d been so close to letting the weights fall on him. “Let’s not rush things.”

No, no rushing…because as much as part of him wanted behind the wheel of a racer, another deep-seated voice told him to run. Run as fast as he could to escape whatever the future held, or drown himself in drink until he couldn’t remember the racer blowing up, his body on fire, then passing out from the agony. The pain had been so acute that sometimes he could swear the nerve endings of the left side of his body were still on fire.

He’d fought against those insidious ideas over and over as he tried to gain control of the new parts on half of his body.

“Of course not.” Gina offered a jug of water. “I’m just excited to see you doing so well. You’re sticking to the regimen Shannon provided, and even after they’ve been gone a few days, you’re still doing everything she said.”

“Yeah.” He took a long swallow of water then mopped at his head and neck again with the towel. The fast difference in the experience of moving was upsetting. He could feel the rough, absorbent material of the towel, but the jug in his metal cybernetic hand was a cold nothing.

His life was filled with this half-existence now.

“I’m going to head out since that was the last rep. Promised Snapper I’d help him finish some test runs…”

Gina trailed off. He couldn’t stop staring at his metallic hand gripping the jug— a slight bit of pressure and he could crush the metal construction. Except he wasn’t sure how much strength to use or how long he could last before his hand would fail him.

“Have a good night and tell Snapper I said hello.” He tried his best in these moments to summon the expected responses, forcing himself to interact with others for the seemingly mundane sense of normalcy.

“What about you?”

“Dinner at the Watering Hole, as usual. Gaia’s doing something new tonight, a recipe she got from a traveler. It’s something called a dumpling.”

“Ooh, yes. I’ll remind Snapper. We wanted to try those as well. Maybe we’ll see you there.”

Hope not.

“Sounds good.” He set the jug on the floor and stood, draping the towel around his neck. Gina appeared to believe his movements implied he was in a good enough state to leave.

Her hovering was nice, to a point. But as the metal door to the makeshift workout room clanged shut, he let himself plop back on the workout bench. Everything there, the metal frame, the uprights holding the weight bar and the weights themselves rattled.

His hip ached, and he didn’t miss the little bit of dizziness that remained due to his weight differential between the human body remaining and cybernetic components.

He was training to extend the stamina of his cybernetic parts, gain control of their strength and increase his human body mass to offset changes the cybernetic parts exerted.

Fuck. He could easily lie back on the bench and not bother moving, but if Gaia didn’t see him walk through the Watering Hole doors in the next hour, she’d send someone to check on him.

He snapped the towel off his neck and tossed it across the room, the only physical manifestation of his frustration.

Full Throttle was the reason he’d been given a shot at being a driver to begin with and without them he wouldn’t be alive, which was the thought that propelled him off the bench and to his house. He washed up and avoided looking at himself in the cracked mirror.

A half hour later, Hemi felt as ready to face the crowd in the Watering Hole as he could. He spent a good ten minutes debating on walking with his cane or without. The Marsanium rod in his hand provided a tiny bit of security, just in case.

His stomach growled repeatedly as he made his way to the building. Old wood panels pressure-sealed against metal plating, the wooden boardwalk, the covering and the repainted sign in bright black announced the Watering Hole to anyone who passed by. The wind had died down a bit from earlier so minimal red dust wound through the air, enough that he didn’t need to cover his face. The sunset in the distance cast a deep red glow across the entire town. The buildings looked as if they’d been painted in blood, a visual that brought memories he didn’t care to recall.

When he opened the door to the bar, the rush of voices, musical notes, the clink of glasses and laughter hit his ears. Here he could forget about his problems for a minute as those from the gang who gathered were good at focusing conversation elsewhere. He basked in the smell of hops and wheat brews along with mouth-watering spices and the heavy scent of yeasty bread.

“Hemi, you made it before I had to send a minder,” Gaia called out to him as she filled two mugs with house brew and passed them off to one of her helpers.

“You mean a minion? What did I say about needing regular checkups?”

“My workers are always happy to escape for a minute during the evening rush, so think of it as doing them a favor.”

A favor, my ass. He warred between appreciating the gesture and hating the threat to his independence with a passion. Since the accident, he’d barely been left alone, yet here he was deliberately seeking out a busy place because drowning his veins in alcohol appeared the best way to stave off the nightmares that might creep up on him.

“Here’s the stew with the dumplings. If you want more, just ask. And the brew.” Gaia set down a mug and bowl with a wood-carved spoon. “Enjoy.”

Then she was gone, her long, pale-blonde braid swinging as she turned and moved to the next customer at the bar. Though that was where Frog Lick differed from every other gang-town. No one had to pay, even non-gang-member customers. Food and brew were always free if a person was in the bar. Money didn’t exchange hands unless someone wanted something other than house brew, usually recycle or any type of alcohol with more bite.

Drag, their fearless leader, believed in giving sustenance to everyone in town. No one deserved to starve, ever. The community, the gang, lifted each other up. Free food for anyone. Where some of the larger, stout members might have been greedy in other gangs, eating three to five servings of anything they could have, people in Frog Lick never took more than two servings, to help ensure there was enough to go around.

Hemi grabbed his items and moved away from the bar to clear space for the next set of arrivals. Usually, he sat up front near the stage, listening to the music from the local guitarist, Privy. But tonight, he opted for a table closer to the door. After the long day, he wanted to eat and drink, then get out.

Snapper and Gina most likely wouldn’t show. Drag was out with his brother, Rune, and Petal, Rune’s wife. Jack…well, Jack and Hemi’s hired nurse were off on a mission to save him and his fellow cyborgs.

Chasing solutions to cybernetic degradation. I was saved just to be destroyed again.

That supported the idea of having another drink instead of rushing home. Who knew if Jack and Shannon would even be successful? If they weren’t, his days were numbered, and he’d much rather spend them in distraction.

“Hi, Hemi.” One of the many single Frog Lick ladies slid an arm around his shoulders, while another sat in the chair beside him.

Both women wore grins and a provocative glint lit their eyes. That was about where their similarities ended. Josie, with her auburn hair and her freckle-covered skin, and Haimea, with her rich black waves and dark sienna tones, were the exact opposites of each other in every way, except they were both hardcore dust honeys.

“You’re looking good. Maybe those cybernetic parts will help in the next race?”

He wouldn’t be behind the wheel any time soon. “Maybe. What brings you lovely ladies to my table?”

The pair glanced at each other, then at him. He tried to take all of their admiration in stride, tried to pretend he enjoyed Haimea snaking her tattooed hand across his pant-covered cybernetic thigh, though he couldn’t feel a thing. Therein lay the problem—even though these ladies continually offered themselves to him, Hemi couldn’t bring himself to disappoint them. In times past, he’d enjoyed the sexual overtures of both ladies and even their sensual enthusiasm. They found pleasure with each other as much as they seemed to delight in sharing him.

“We were thinking it’s been a while since you had us over.”

“Uh-huh.” Josie leaned in closer with her lips at his ear, her red locks draping over his shoulder. “We miss that delicious mouth of yours.”

They missed what he could do for them, but he wasn’t capable of such things anymore. At least not in the sense of full involvement. It was possible to engage in the use of his mouth without other parts of his anatomy. If he truly wanted a distraction, they would provide it.

“Well, I’m happy for a reunion.”

“That’s not all we want…”

Josie kept talking, but Hemi found himself distracted by the opening of the Watering Hole door. It creaked as it was spread wide, lingering sunlight from the setting sun shining into the darker room, kicking up a haze of red dust. For a second, it looked like the entrance was on fire. Then she walked in, pale-blonde hair whipping around a slender tan neck, greenish blue eyes that reminded him of the saturated chem pools that the Uppers drowning in flash swam in. He’d once known a person who had one. She had the same look, same graceful walk, same—Fuck.

And just like that, his past had walked in the door. Hemi stumbled to a standing position, unsure if he should run toward a woman who always seemed to turn up in his life at the wrong time to hug her close and thank whatever higher power existed.

But as fast as she appeared, she whisked right back out of the door and it slammed shut.

Hemi was still in a state of shock. He blinked rapidly, wondering if he’d seen a mirage or if this was the start of the degradation. “Ladies, I think I may need to call it a night. We can pick this up tomorrow.”

Both women pouted, their lips dusted in a pink glitter that reflected tiny sparks at the slightest hint of light. He had no desire to appease them and whatever distraction he’d hoped to find was lost the minute he’d dreamed of seeing a part of his past.

“You promise?”

He did his best to summon a grin that would rival the way he used to smile at the women. “Have I broken one yet? Tomorrow.”

They both came to either side of him and pressed their lips against his cheeks, leaving their mark, before giggling and walking off to find the next male driver or mechanic willing to entertain them. Though drivers were slim picking with Jack gone and Drag retired—he was the last one.

And there’s not much left.

He pounded back the rest of his beer, left the empty mug on the table then headed for the door. Once on the porch, he turned to the left, using his cane to help support his weight. Since he’d been sitting, his human side was even more worn out than earlier. The trip to his makeshift home, the one Drag had gifted him when he’d joined up with Full Throttle, would probably take longer than it should. Though home wasn’t the same without—her.

This time she had a hood on, but he didn’t miss those eyes or the way her long, pale-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, the sensuous yet agile way she moved. He’d often likened her to an angel with tan skin and a piercing gaze that could either make one melt or wither.

“Hemi?”

His name sounded more like a question from her lips. He was so screwed. It looked like his past had just caught up to him, and it wasn’t leaving without a reckoning.