“What does this button do?” Bucket Boy the Crocodilian asked nervously. We’d just both come from the safe room, and the moment he sat in the driver’s seat, he started touching things. He reached to press the big red button.

“Stop,” I called. “Don’t touch that unless I say so. That engages the spider legs.”

“What about the chair? I gotta push it back or my snout will touch the front glass shield. Do I need to be able to reach these pedal things?”

I opened the passenger’s-side door and placed my feet inside, standing so I could reach the top of the truck. I was going to attempt to rip the front of the tommy gun off the roof with my bare hands.

We had about fifteen minutes. Donut was in the back of the truck, grumbling as she cleaned up all the spilled frozen food. Apparently, the freezer had a never-ending supply of frozen chicken patties, French fries, and tater tots, and both Mongo and Rend had been helping themselves.

“Both of you,” Donut said, “I must warn you, the GPS . . .”

Get your scaly little hands off my buttons, or I’ll lead you into a swamp and drown you like a basket of ugly puppies.

The words appeared on the screen, and they spoke out loud in the truck at the same time, like a modified system message.

“. . . doesn’t like being touched,” Donut finished.

Bucket Boy shrieked and pulled his hand back from where he’d been about to touch the dials.

“Her name is Dr. Metcalf,” Donut added.

Christ, we don’t have time for this. “The GPS? The GPS is named Dr. Metcalf? That’s the same name as⁠—”

“Miss Beatrice’s therapist, yes. I know. It’s not really her. I asked.”

“God, I hope not,” I said, suddenly remembering the one and only time I’d met the very expensive “alternative” therapist. The therapist who’d turned out not to be a real doctor at all. Whenever I was reminded of that whole episode, my head still ached from the trust-fall thing she’d made me and Bea do.

“Anyway, Dr. Metcalf has her controls set as she thinks best, and I believe we should listen to her,” Donut said.

Donut: SHE HAS BIG, MEAN-GIRL, NARCISSIST ENERGY, SO WE MUST BE NICE TO HER.

I sighed, and then out loud, I said, “Bucket Boy, don’t touch the GPS. She knows best, and we trust her to do the right thing.” I paused, and then I added, “Besides, if we lose, we all get killed, including her.”

“Why did I volunteer for this?” Bucket Boy asked miserably.

“Hey, Donut,” I asked, “did you get the device from Hedy?”

“I did,” she said. She pulled open a cabinet, and a whole slew of paper plates and plastic utensils slid out. “Carl, look at this mess Rend made!”

Our mechanic had spent the last few hours designing the Donut drive system, which was janky as hell. It now sat in Donut’s inventory. I was going to attempt to refine it after this race. It was basically a lever system that attached to the steering wheel, and it allowed Donut to steer by rocking back and forth. It had sticks that hit the pedals. It looked like something straight from a goblin workshop on the first floor.

Which was why we now had Bucket Boy driving instead.

As it was, I knew there was going to be a learning curve for Bucket Boy. If we survived this race, everyone on the team was going to spend all their free time playing driving games.

Bucket Boy let out another shriek as he accidentally hit the horn.

Make way for the big shot! Bawk!

“Weren’t you driving transports on the last floor?” Donut asked. She remained in the back, inspecting the contents of the freezer chest. Her little legs dangled out of the unit as she peered inside.

“I have driven a cart before!” Bucket Boy said, his voice going up an octave. “It didn’t have any of these handles and pedals and extra buttons!”

“If Miss Beatrice could drive, you certainly can. And you’ll have Dr. Metcalf helping you.”

Bucket Boy looked as if he were about to bolt. “I don’t know who Miss Beatrice is.”

“She only got, like, five or six tickets,” Donut added. “She only got them when the cop was a woman or they were gay. At least that’s what she was always saying.”

“I don’t know what any of that means.”

The GPS beeped. We’re all going to die.

“You’ll be fine,” I said. “Let me do this, and I’ll run through it for you.” I returned my efforts to breaking the giant tommy gun. I grunted and pulled. Standing on the floor of the garage was Rend wearing his new headband and making his own groaning noises as I strained.

Just as I felt as if the gun was about to give, I received a notification. You do not have the ability to make changes to the stock configuration of your vehicle at this time.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“Carl, every time I remove food from the freezer, it just comes back, like, ten seconds later! I put it in my inventory, but it just keeps coming. We could literally open a restaurant with all this stuff. Where are they getting all these chickens?”

“Which pedal makes us stop?” Bucket Boy asked.

I mentally played out the plan we’d worked out with Chiyome and the bugbears. I was going to have to shatter our own windshield the moment the race started. Donut needed to be quick with her crossbow.

Race starts in ten minutes.

“Rend,” I called, pulling the pet carrier out. I still had the truck passenger door open, and he stood there, looking at me, panting weirdly like a dog. The inside of his mouth was absolutely filled with smashed, uncooked French fries. “Want to go for a ride, buddy?”

He let out a deep giggle and let me zap him away.

I turned my attention back to the GPS.

“Uh, Dr. Metcalf? Show us the information, and show the map.” The display lit up red. “Please,” I added, and the display color turned blue.

Path assignment: Left path.

Starting grid: Spot #7.

Distance: 10 kilometers.

Track: Asphalt-paved road. Rolling hills.

Tasks required to complete: Each path is of equal length. Each path has a gatekeeper monster along that path that must be killed to resume.

Environment: Torrential downpour of rain and giant hail.

Hazards: I thought a cat driving was a 50/50 death sentence, but now that we’ve actually put a prepubescent crocodile behind the wheel, I see you’re not leaving anything to chance.

Time Limit: 3 hours.

“Hey,” Donut called, “that was very rude, Dr. Metcalf. We’ve been nice to you. We need to all work together.”

A map appeared, showing twin paths. We were on the left. Both roads had a big blinking red dot right about halfway through. The dots were relatively close to one another, meaning it was possible we’d be able to see both of these boss monsters at the same time.

Hedy moved to the chain to open the garage door, revealing a torrential downpour. Lightning crackled across the sky, followed by a loud bang.

Bucket Boy gave me a nervous look. “So, you’re going to teach me to drive now?”

I nodded. I suddenly had to shout because the rain was so loud.

“Look, it’s easy. You have two pedals down there. The one on the right . . .”

I trailed off as a new message came in.

Tran: Oh fuck. Got some shitty news.

Imani: What’s wrong?

Zhang: Sorry, guys. Confirming Prepotente’s theory is mostly correct. Na killed five of the other teams, and we have four replacements at the starting line. Two are NPC teams, but two are crawler teams, including Tran’s team. Na is just sitting there behind me, not reacting. I have the reins for this one. I don’t know what to do.

Donut jumped to my shoulder as I felt myself sag.

And so it begins.

“Goddamnit,” I said.