“Oh, yeah,” Sock said, stretching -- luckily, in sweats, not spandex like he’d announced back at the Work Bench. “I can feel the burn.”

“What burn?” Ben countered, and Sam had to agree. So far, all they’d done was walk into the fitness center, and that wasn’t exactly burn-making.

“The burn,” Sock answered, as if that explained everything. “Sheesh, Ben, get with it.”

“Come on, guys,” Sam said, pushing forward. His grip tightened on the bag slung over his shoulder. “Let’s just worry about finding the soul.”

“Right. The soul.” Sock nodded as he and Ben followed Sam. “He is so going to burn.”

“Like how you burned?” Ben quipped.

“No, Ben, the other kind of burn. Gosh, you’re really not with it.”

They soon stopped alongside the snack bar when they saw how packed the fitness center was -- there was barely a treadmill or dumbbell not in use. Sam had been hoping that, being a smaller establishment, that it wouldn’t be so busy, but now…

“Great,” Sam muttered. “How are we ever going to figure out who the soul is now?”

He never got an answer, for the perky young blond who worked at the snack bar thrust out a pair of cups their way, her smile as bright as her hair. “Hi! Would you guys like to try a free sample of our brand new smoothies?”

“No, thanks,” Sam said. Sock simply grimaced his response. Ben, however, took a cup and started to drink from it as they weaved once again around the people working out around them.

“We can watch for the soul over there,” Sock said, gesturing toward the treadmills along the back wall.

It actually did look like a good spot to watch out for the soul at, allowing them to view the fitness center at all angles, but still Sam said, “Sock, we can’t. All the treadmills are taken.”

“So?” Sock said, walking over there anyway. He leaned against one of the treadmills. “Impressive.”

Catching the attention of the woman jogging on it, she slowed and pulled out her iPod’s earphones. “What’s impressive?”

Sock smirked. “You.”

She grinned, bashfully so. She fiddled with her tank top strap. “You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. Those are some grade-A pit stains.”

“Wh--what?”

“How do you do it?” Sock pressed closer, lifting his arm so she could get a good view of his armpit. “No matter how much I work out, I can never seem to get as sweaty as I want to. What’s your secret?”

Appalled, the girl turned off the treadmill, grabbed her things, and left.

Sam and Ben shook their heads as they finally joined him.

“What?” Sock said, getting onto the treadmill himself, although he did no treading. “She did have impressive pit stains.”

“Whatever.” Sam gazed around the fitness center. “You guys have any idea who the soul could be?”

Ben pondered. “Maybe it’s one of those guys that likes to hit on women as they’re yogaing. Axes them when they’re alone because he’s resentful about being rejected in life.”

“Eh,” Sock said. “I think the soul has a thing against health nuts and…I don’t know…poisons them with smoothies or something.”

Ben froze, spitting his latest gulp back into the cup. “Oh my god I’m poisoned!”

“We don’t know that the soul poisoned the smoothies,” Sam said, but grew wary as he stared back over at the perky blond at the snack bar. She seemed just a bit too eager for people to try those free samples of hers.

Then he saw her hand one to the latest person to enter the fitness center -- a man whose suit made him too overdressed to even consider working out.

Sam walked over to the Devil. Whatever he wanted, he doubted it involved anything that might help him track down the escaped soul.

The Devil faced him, grimacing as he took a sip of the smoothie. “Oh, hey, Sammy. Can you believe people drink this stuff? I swear it tastes like feet. If people want a killer body, then they should just shell out the money for a trainer. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said. “What are you doing here?”

The Devil set the cup aside and pulled out a necklace from his pocket. “Just wanted to give you this.”

Sam stared at it, unsure of what to say. It was the same cross necklace he’d snatched from Cindy when he first met her. “Uh…why?”

The Devil shrugged. “Thought you might want to give it back to Cindy if you ever ran into her again.”

“I thought you wanted me to avoid her,” Sam said, still not taking the necklace.

“Did I?” The Devil shrugged again. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sam blinked. “Again…why?”

The Devil dangled the necklace in front of Sam’s face. “Just take it already, will you? I don’t have time to stand around talking to you all day.”

Finally, Sam did. He briefly stared down at the cross pendant before flicking his gaze back up. “But…”

The Devil was gone.

“Of course,” he muttered, walking back over to Sock and Ben. Maybe Sock was right the other day about the Devil having Alzheimer’s; it sure would explain his more peculiar behavior lately. Although, with the things he knew -- and didn’t know -- about Cindy, Sam could understand why. Sort of.

“What was that all about?” Ben asked once Sam returned.

“Oh, yeah. I saw the Devil, so I --”

“Wait. The Devil’s here?” Sock craned his head, in search of him.

“Was here,” Sam corrected.

Sock frowned. “He’s gone now? Lame. I so wanted to ask him for his autograph.”

“His autograph?” Sam echoed blankly.

“Yeah! I bet I could get a pretty penny for it from some Satanist….”

Ignoring Sock’s comment, Ben asked Sam, “So did the Devil tell you anything about the soul?”

“No,” Sam said, pocketing Cindy’s necklace. “He just went on about how the smoothies taste like feet and --” Sam paused as he remembered another seemingly unimportant part of their conversation. “He mentioned how people should hire trainers for a killer body.”

“So?” Sock asked.

“So maybe the soul is a trainer who kills you before you can get a killer body,” Sam answered.

Ben tsked. “Talk about dying to be thin.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Sock hopped off the treadmill. “Let’s vesselfy this soul already.”

“We still don’t know for sure if a trainer’s the soul, though,” Sam said.

“Or which trainer it’d be,” Ben added.

Sock slumped back against the treadmill and grumbled.

“So I guess we should start asking around about new trainers in this place. Right, Sam?”

Sam didn’t answer. He was too busy gazing over at the entrance again. A girl in fitting black sweats, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, had just walked in. Cindy.

“Sam?”

Sock flicked the back of his head. “Earth to Sammy. You still in there?”

“You guys can ask around,” Sam finally said, pulling out the Rubik’s cube from his bag. He strode over to Cindy. “I’m going to follow another lead.”