Murphy swung wide the door of the Workshop, slipped inside, and took in the smell of plastic and metal, the zest of running currents, the tang of rust. There was only one person inside, standing at the far end of the room. Murphy bristled and froze by the entrance. It was Raven. Shit, he’d hoped to see Wick; at least he hadn’t put a bullet in that smarmy jackass.
He was in the workshop for a reason. Prior to leaving the Lighthouse, he managed to grab some non-essential items – one of which was device that read books aloud. Murphy loved it all at once. The first book he listened to was Lord of the Flies. Mostly because it had a cool title, but then it turned out to be about being wild and angry and afraid and far away from fucking everything. He laughed at the irony of it and listened to it over and over until he had to leave the Lighthouse.
It came as no surprise to Murphy that the device didn’t survive the trip back to Camp: the Dead Zone wasn’t particularly forgiving. However, he’d hoped to rectify that – he wanted the damn thing to work, and he hoped that one of the brainiacs would fix it for him.