the smuggler’s bible


Juliet picks a clinic with a reputation, the details of which she does not remember. But the outfit offers the services she’s after. It isn’t all legal—and also not strictly illegal.

The white coats pull Rumble into a back room. They work quickly, moving south through her list of chores like they’re headed for the border.

“Clone his heart,” she says to one of them, dark goggles peering over a face-mask. “We may need a new one someday.”

In the lobby, waiting, she watches the receptionist work behind bullet-proof glass. As if a gun is all it would take.