"SIR, the enemy is moving foward."

That six words who was said by Dashner made James being more serious than I thought. He seemed not panic at all, like it was an amazing moment for a detective to solve some growing-big-and-serious case, but now he was very busy to investigate Mayday's place. And James kept his calmness like this was never happened.

"Hmmm. But what the mean of you two words at this threat?"

"Me?" I asked.

"I don't know. But just in case, you two must protect yourself from now. I think someone had been here when that bomb incident and met you that still alive."

"How do you know that when you're still there with me?" I asked condusedly. It was impossible to be true that his analysist could right. Besides, why had to some of the arsonist come here and check if I was alive, whereas I was passed away and got my life again? It couldn't be true . . . ,

right?

"It has many possibilities, Mr. Dusty. That's why we have to be careful."

I was really tired of this case. I wasn't in salary to play cat-mouse or hide-and-seek game with those bastard devil. What I wanted was just racing and protect Propwash Junction from fire. And now, what did I got?

My cortisol hormone produced out of controlled. Frustration took over my body.

God,

I was really, really tired of this.

.

.

.

"You two can take a nap with Chug here," Dottie offered.

I and Mayday really didn't know where to took a rest except Fill 'N Fly. So we went to there and Dottie accepted our request.

"Thanks. But, what about you, Dottie?"

"I have to do something with my best friend Gabriella that had saved your life before."

"Okay. Have fun."

In another view, Chug seemed happy to stay at night with me. Well, me too.

When Mayday was in his falling-asleep, I and Chug were watch a plane race in Dubai, India. I looked Ishani joined that race . . . and she always won in the first place—Chug told it to me. Ah, Ishani . . . I wonder if I could meet her again in my life, although she had ever tricked me for Skyslacer Mark 5. I saved that propeller at my house, because I really like my own propeller, though. And I really wanted to visit Taj Mahal with her when the sun set.

I really wanted to race. That was why I built for!

But since my abduction, I was totally scared for being known any longer. Might be there was still the devil would find me and tortured me again. I wonder when this would be finished? That cat-mouse game was suck if you did it with a devil like Ripslinger now.

But I had just known that Rusty was Ripslinger's son. He totally a little different with Rip.

I felt curious with Rusty.

.

.

.

"Are you kidding? OF COURSE! Maru fixed me too much different than my looking, so my body ain't like my dad," Rusty explained on the radio. "Anyway, these pontoons makes me look more different than I was just a kid 2 years ago. I really wanna modify myself, but I have no enough money to do that."

Winter wind seemed to make that information couldn't be absorbed because the cold that made you shivered. "Oh, well." I sighed as I relaxed my brain. I didn't believe that Rusty was Ripslinger's boy. But . . . , "Why are ya name Rusty?"

"It was the initial name's abbreviation of my parents and my grandparents. 'R' for Ripslinger, my father. 'U' for Ulrich, my grandpa. 'S' for Sarah, my mother. And 'T' for Tryphena, my grandma. Then it synchronous as RUST. But for seemed catchy, my mom gave 'Y' letter, so my name is Rusty, not Rust."

"Champ! What're ya doin'?" I heard someone from the radio.

"Wait a second, Mr. Dusty. I'm calling, Mr. Blade."

"Who do you call?"

"Mr. Dusty."

"Is he right?"

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"Busy! Just say yes or no!"

"Ummmmm."

"Fuck! You moron, just say yes or no, Champ!"

"Naaaaaaaaah. Just ask him."

"BUUUUSY! ARGH, YOU JERK! FINE! THAT'S WHY I never want you to . . . ." Blade's sound was more disappeared as being brought by winter wind.

"Jeez, he's never changed at all," said Rusty in front of radio. "Well, what next question?"

"Well, no more. Thanks."

"Anytime."

The radio was turned off by Rusty.

.

.

.

I wondered if there was a aurora emitted in here, Propwash Junction, Minnesota. That was why every night before I slept, I saw outside for a moment up to the sky and hoped that there would be an aurora rise.

And this night, I didn't saw aurora. I waited every second until I gave up and because the cold of the wind. Moon and stars might decorate the ocean named sky, but I always hoped aurora brighten.

"Dusty," Mayday called suddenly, "it's night and cold outside. Let's sleep in Fill 'N Fly."

I sighed as I was reminded myself that Mayday was right; now it was night . . . and really cold. My metal body could taste it, but my mind didn't realize it.

Should I went to Atlantic or Arctic?[]