“There’s also beer,” Thomas pointed out. “Lotta carbs. Like drinking bread.”
“Oh, great,” she said. “Beer on an incredibly empty stomach. Nothing whatsoever could possibly go wrong.”
He shot her the eyebrows-raised look that she recognized as his warning that he was about to start using the wordawkwarda lot.
“We can heat it,” he said. “Lower the alcohol a little.”
Warmbeer on an empty stomach, even better. She didn’t say it aloud, but from the smile he now gave her, he knew she was thinking it.
“I’ll drink the beer,” he told her. “You can have the oatmeal.”
“That’s hardly fair,” she protested. “I’m not eating your share of the oatmeal, like I’m some extra-hangry Goldilocks.”
He talked over her as he went into the pantry, clearly ignoring her. “There’s sugar in some of the sodas and mixers, so we shouldn’t forget that, but we don’t want to include the bottles of diet in our count, that crap’s worthless in terms of calories.” He counted quickly. “Fifteen two-liter bottles of sugar water, a half a case of wine, and a case and a half of beer.” She’d followed him in, and he turned to look at her, clearly pleased. “That’s a very good inventory, with the peanuts as protein, and the olives as a source of fat.”
“What, noVodka’s just like drinking potatoes?” she asked. “Also there’s more wine in the kitchen wine fridge.”
“Prince T has a wine fridge,” Thomas said. “Of course he does.”
“Had,” Tasha said. “Past tense. We’re talking about Tedric the first. My Ted’s more of a beer guy. Although, he would definitely keep wine on hand, for guests.”
My Ted.
Thomas glanced at her, so she knew the words had registered. And for a half of a second, she almost thought he might say something. Like, bring up the conversation he’d started last night, abouther Tedclearly using thissecret hide outfor hisactivitieswithguests,and why didn’t that seem to bother her...?
Instead, he said, “If we reach the point where we need to break open the vodka, we’ll be drinking it along with the rabbit we’ve roasted for dinner.”
“Please tell me that’s your Plan Z,” she said, “and that you really don’t think it’s going to come to us cannibalizing Bambi’s best friend.”
He squinted at her. “Pretty sure it’s onlycannibalizingif we’re rabbits, too.”
“You probably want to bet on how many days of peanuts and olives it’ll take before I start sobbing and begging you to go out there and murder Thumper, to roast in some of that delicious-looking olive oil that’s in the kitchen,” she said. “Fine. I’ll bet you half of my share of the oatmeal that I’ll cave in just three days.”
Thomas laughed. “Actually, the oil will go well with the oatmeal. It’ll make it more filling. I’ll bet you go longer. I’mma say I cave before you, but some time well after day seven.”
Dayseven...? “You really think we’re going to be here that long?” she asked.
He sighed as he realized he’d walked right into that, and he shook his head. “I honestly don’t know, Tash. But Idoknow this. The oatmeal’s not the prize. Winner gets twenty bucks, paid up after we get back home. Because wewillget home. You can count on that. Now, come on. We’ll figure out what our rations are gonna be for the next few days, and then, if we need to extend, we’ll figure out full austerity mode for the next week or so after that. You’ll love this. This is just simple math.”
“I hate math,” Tasha said as she followed him back out into the kitchen.
“No shit, Martian Woman,” he said. “That was what we earthlings call ajoke.”
* * *
The driving was almost fricking over.
They’d left the highway some time ago, following the state road that wound farther north to Maine through the winter-brown, worn-down New Hampshire mountains. It was so different from the sharply jagged, treeless peaks that seemed to stab upward like serrated knife blades attempting to escape hell through SoCal’s alien-planet desert-scape.
And yeah, Rio was New York City born and raised. He could still remember the first year he’d boarded the bus to attend summer camp, and how, at that time, these New England mountains had seemed alien-planet weird to him, too.
Now they kinda felt like coming home.
The slap of freezing air, however, was not as welcome a sensation.
He and Dave had just finished unhitching their traveling fuel tank and hiding it behind a small mountain of brush, when a call from Admiral Francisco came in.
Reception sucked out here. It was miraculous that the SAT signal had reached them at all, considering they were in a valley with steep hillsides rising around them.
