Chapter Seventeen
Moonbeams danced through an open skylight. Chloe slept on the adjacent bunk close enough to touch, with Kevin curled up at the foot of her bed, emitting growling noises. Progg dreamed; he hadn’t realized Earthlings did, too.
Equal parts excitement and nerves impeded his slumber. Tomorrow, he would reconnect with Grav! They had a time and place, and, after studying the map, Chloe had figured out how to get there.
Although he and his brother were strangers, they shared blood and history he didn’t have with anyone else. His family hadn’t been close—even less so than other Progg. He’d never reached out to Grav before. To his shame, he hadn’t given him any thought until he needed him.
What if his brother felt the same way? When they were children, Grav had extended a few overtures of friendship, but stopped when Rok hadn’t reciprocated. They hadn’t seen each other or spoken in more than a decade.
What if Grav wasn’t at the Gillioz anymore? The sign could have been there a long time.
“What will I do if he’s not there?” he murmured.
“He’s left two messages; if he’s moved on, he probably left another one,” Chloe spoke.
He turned his head. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“Too much to think about. If Grav has moved on, so will we. We’ll keep following until we find him.”
“You’d do that with me?”
“Yes,” she said without pause.
“Why?”
Hesitation now. “We’re…friends. You need me.” Her face expressed conflicted emotions. She probably had no idea he could see so well in the dark.
He did need her, but he yearned for more than a reluctant friendship, more than friendship period. What he desired would have been deemed an abomination on Progg-Res. No one would contemplate, let alone engage in, an interspecies relationship. To do so would turn one into a criminal and a pariah.
He did not find Chloe repugnant in the least. She aroused him. Inspired him. Thrilled him. Exotically beautiful, she caused his body to hum with desire. If that made him a deviant—so be it. Prohibitions did not exist in this new paradigm. He was an alien in an alien land.
He almost hoped they didn’t find Grav to ensure she stayed with him longer. He assumed she’d go her separate way after they located his brother.
“I like you,” she whispered. “I haven’t fully reconciled that. Helping you should be wrong—but it feels right.”
He reached out and touched her arm. She grabbed his hand, but instead of pushing him away, she held it. A smile trembled on her lips, and his entire being lit up with happiness.
Hope buoyed his courage enough to ask, “What happens if we find Grav tomorrow?”
“We’ll decide what to do together.”
Together. He liked that.
They fell asleep holding hands.
* * * *
Rok awakened to bright sunlight. Chloe and Kevin were gone, but he smelled coffee and heard faint singing. As he ventured out, he heard Chloe in the closet-sized bathroom and saw Kevin sitting on the sofa.
“Good morning,” he greeted the dog.
Kevin wagged his tail.
Although aromatic, coffee tasted nasty. He avoided it for a bottle of water and parked himself at the banquette where the Springfield map was spread out. Indecipherable squiggly lines went in every direction, but Chloe had circled two areas in red.
A towel wrapped around her head, she emerged from the bath closet in fresh bike shorts and a T-shirt. A few wet tendrils escaped from the turban.
Longing and desire buzzed, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “We’re friends,” she’d whispered last night, and they’d fallen asleep holding hands. Although he hadn’t been awake for most of it, it had been the best moment of his life.
“How did you sleep?” she asked.
Deeply, soundly, dreamlessly. “Like I’d died.”
She looked alarmed for a moment, but then she chuckled. “Oh. We say we slept dead to the world—me, too, actually.” She leaned over the table and tapped a red circle. “This is the hospital where we are.” She tapped the other circle. “This is the theater.”
“It doesn’t look far.”
“It’s not. It’s about five miles. An easy ride, about half an hour. I recommend we get there early—but we don’t need to rush. We can take our time, stop along the way if we want to.” She squinted at the front of the vehicle.
“What are you looking at?”
“The time on the dash clock—8:42 a.m. It runs on battery so it’s still going. It’s probably correct, but it could be an hour off. Up until the invasion, the United States was still falling back and springing forward, changing time with the season. Everybody disliked doing it, but we still did it.”
“Why?”
“Because it literally would have taken an act of Congress to stop it, and our legislators couldn’t agree on anything, not even the time. Now, we don’t have to change the clocks anymore.” She gave a little chuckle. “The Progg did what Congress couldn’t.
“Anyway, on the way to the Gillioz, I’m going to keep an eye out for a place to get a watch. It’s kind of silly, but I like knowing the time. Even if it’s arbitrary.”
“Something normal,” he said.
“Yes. Are you going to shower? I have no idea how much water the tank holds, so I used it sparingly.”
“I would like that.”
“Get yourself wet and then turn off the shower when you soap up. Save the water for rinsing. You don’t want to be soapy and have the water run out.” She held up his bottle of water. “We only have a couple more of these left,” she said, adding, “We should pick up some on the way to the theater.”
“I need some clothes, too,” he added. “I only have one set left.”
“Springfield is the place to get it.” She grinned. “We’ll have a busy day of shopping. While you shower, I’ll feed Kevin outside and then fix breakfast.”
While sanitizing beams worked quickly and thoroughly, sanitizers didn’t provide the sensual pleasure of a water shower. He could have stood under the lukewarm spray for a long time. But, heedful of her warning, he quickly soaped and rinsed.
He looked forward to getting new clothes and dressing like a human in hopes it would make him more acceptable and show he wished to be part of her world and learn her ways.
However, Earth clothing also might emphasize the differences.
He couldn’t change biology; he would never look human no matter what he wore.
He knew she liked him, but he wished for her to like him as much as he desired her.
He donned his last clean uniform, consisting of utilitarian, sturdy gray pants and tunic.
Dressing in the tight space proved to be a contortionist’s challenge. He dropped his clean shirt in the shower, but the water rolled right off.
The delicious smell in the main cabin caused his stomach to rumble with hunger.
Chloe stood over a frying pan at the stove, a stack of flattened circular consumables on a plate.
She shoveled a disk from the skillet to the stack then sprayed the pan and poured in some batter. It bubbled and started to harden.
He sniffed the mouth-watering aroma. “What is it?”
“Pancakes! Have a seat. This is the last one. Pour yourself some Tang.” She waved the spatula at two glasses half-filled with an orange liquid. “I can’t believe people still drank that stuff. My grandma told me about it. I’d never had it before. It’s not bad.”
He slipped into the bench seat and eyed the glass. “What is it?”
“Fake orange juice.”
He took a sip. “It’s sweet! Tangy!” He grinned and took a bigger gulp.
“It’s orange-flavored sugar-water basically. With a few added vitamins.” She lifted the skillet and flipped the pancake. In about a minute, she added it to the plate, turned off the heat, and brought the stack to the table, which she’d already set with plates and utensils.
“Take some pancakes and pour this on top.” She pushed a bottle of brown liquid toward him. “It’s maple syrup. The real deal—not the fake stuff. They drank fake orange juice but ate real maple syrup.”
He had no idea if he would like it, but he trusted her, it smelled good, and it couldn’t be any worse than field rations. Using the spatula provided, he took two pancakes and dribbled the thick brown syrup on top.
“Keep going.”
He drizzled some more. The pancakes were soft enough to cut with a fork. Hesitantly, he took a bite. Spongy and sweet, pancakes were the most delicious thing he’d tasted in his entire life. He couldn’t prevent a groan of enjoyment.
She grinned. “It’s better with butter on top—but we don’t have any, and you couldn’t eat it if we did.” She forked a bite into her mouth.
“Why would you eat meat when you could eat this?”
“Believe it or not, pancakes are probably one of the least healthful breakfasts. Probably no better than a doughnut. They’re aptly named—pan cake, white flour and sugar.
Empty calories. No nutritional value. But, it is vegan, and, right now, we don’t have a lot of healthy options.
I read the box to ensure the mix didn’t contain eggs.
“If we stay in one place for a while, I can cook healthier options with canned vegetables, beans, and lentils.”
Staying for a while…he loved the sound of that.
“Thank you for the pancakes. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.” If not for her, he wouldn’t know what was edible unless he smelled it—and he wouldn’t have eaten oatmeal and pancakes.
Or vegan chili. He never would have picked that based on the picture on the can.
“You’re welcome. Have you figured out what you’ll say to Grav?”
He shrugged. “Hi, I’m your brother, Rok.”
“That’s it?”
“What else is there?”
He didn’t know how to express the tangle of unfamiliar emotions. He could hardly define what he felt, and his vocabulary for emotions was extremely limited. How could he explain the inexplicable? And if he could, would his brother understand? Or would he think he was weak?
“How are you feeling about today?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He shifted on the bench.
“Are you happy? Nervous?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure he’ll be as glad to see you as you are to see him.” She covered his hand and gave a little squeeze. He ached to tell her how he felt about her but didn’t know how to explain that either. And what if it scared her?
“I’m not so sure about that,” he replied.
“Why do you say that?”
“We’re Progg.”
“You’re family. All you have is each other.”
“How do you feel about meeting other humans?” He diverted the subject from himself.
Her mouth twisted wryly. “Happy. Nervous,” she parroted his answer.
“I had a recent bad experience. But while I need to be cautious and not stupid, I have to take a leap of faith and trust the woman who posted the message on the banner has good intentions. That your brother does, too. I’m taking it on your say-so that meeting him is safe. I will trust him because I trust you.”
“I promise you’ll be safe,” he vowed. To his chagrin, he’d never considered the risk to her.
He’d been assuming Grav presented no threat, lacking the killer instinct as their parents always said.
Who knew what he’d become? He had been the aide to the commander who’d unleashed the assault on Earth.
The person with him could be a tracker like Knife.
What if the message had been a ruse to lure in unsuspecting survivors?
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” As much as he wished to reunite with Grav, he’d kill him if he had to.