She ate from the can. Perhaps it didn’t contain much meat or he was far enough away, but he detected only the merest whiff of meat. Tolerable. He cut his can open. It smelled appetizing.
Hesitantly, he took a bite. Flavor exploded in his mouth. This was better than the oatmeal! Why eat meat when they could eat something like this?
“How’s the chili?” she called.
“The best I ever had.”
“It’s probably theonlychili you’ve ever had.” She chuckled.
Heat shot through his groin. No woman’s laugh had affected him the way hers did. Of course, if a Progg laughed, it was generally out of triumph rather than amusement or pleasure.
“It’s still excellent,” he said. “How are your tamales?”
“Not the best I’ve ever had.” She smiled, and the warmth spreading through him brought a profound epiphany.This is what I want. This feeling. This woman. This existence.
I am not fully Progg.
He would always befromProgg-Res, but he hadn’t internalized the conqueror’s entitlement.Do it once. Do it right. Don’t concede. Don’t surrender.Never mind that the individual gave up autonomy, freedom, comfort, family, love, andempathy. Before storming the galaxy, they had first conquered their own people.
But Rok had refused to surrender. A seed of self had survived the indoctrination, and Chloe was nurturing it to life.
He hadn’t sought to distinguish himself at all—just the opposite. Deep down, he’d recognized he lackedruthlessness. Avoidance was a form of cowardice. The time had come to stand up, to speak up, to live in accordance with his own convictions.
Chloe’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re looking at me weird. Is something wrong? Are you all right? Are you feeling sick again?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m well for the first time in my life.”
Chapter Sixteen
Despite what she’d been through, Chloe had begun to care about the stupid alien, worried how he would fare in the world-order reversal. Rok had handed over his weapon, for god’s sake. What kind of alien invader did that? He’d presented a hardened front when they’d first met, but the tough guy had crumbled like a cookie. He’d shared the information that his parents had dismissed his brother as “soft.” If so, he and Grav must be two peas in a pod.
He lacked killer instinct.
A highway junction lay ahead. She braked and waited for him to catch up. “How are you doing? Do you need a rest?” She scanned his face.
“I’m fine. Do you need one?”
“I’m good if you’re good.” She offered a smile.
“I’m good.” A flicker of heat lit his gaze.
“Springfield is a fairly large sprawling city. Grav could be anywhere. I recommend we start the search in the city center, what we would call the downtown,but that’s a wild-ass guess on my part. I’m not sure of the best way to get there either, whether we should continue north or head west. If we can find a local map, it will be a big help.” Boy, she missed Google and the internet. The green highway signs gave no clues as to the location of the downtown.
“Let’s go that way.” He pointed to the west.
“Any particular reason?”
“The ramp curves around and down. I’ll bet we could fly like the wind! It will be fun!” His eyes lit up.
“You want fun?”
“Yes. I would like to experience fun.”
The world had ended, and he sought fun? Insane.
Or perfectly sane. Whynotplay a little? Why not live instead of exist?
“Let’s do it. Let me get Kevin secured.” She dismounted, zipped him up in the carrier, then got back on the bike. “You go first.” She envisioned him picking up speed and running into the dog trailer. “Don’t let the bike get out of control. Use the brakes—but squeeze them gently. You don’t want to fly over the handlebars or crash into anything. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
