Griffin nods. “There are a few farmers up north, in Canada, who survived in the mountains. They make cheese and butter. They have goats too.”
“Incredible,” I say. “How does it taste?”
“It’s really good on warm bread with salt.”
Now I kind of regret not asking to be taken to Canada and not Washington. He could have done the presentations. We eat breakfast in companionable silence. I don’t want to push it.
But surprisingly, it’s Griffin who speaks again.
“I was raised by the scientists who created me,” he says over his tea. His eyes are on the table. “I was still a baby when the Revival Project was terminated, so five of them took me in. They stayed in one of the labs, and they built theBeetle.”
I’m speechless, faced with the sudden snippet of his life he decided to give me.
“And you helped,” I manage to say after a few seconds.
He nods. “It took us almost ten years to finish building her. We created Beet, too. TheBeetleis the shell, she’s the soul.”
“What happened?” I ask.
Because just as for my mother, I know the scientists aren’t just living out there in the world. Not when I have seen the bunk beds and the three bedrooms. TheBeetlewas built for a family.
“They’re dead,” Griffin says. “They died a little before theBeetlewas ready.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“They never got a chance to try her, to see how wonderful their invention truly is.”
“But you do. They built her for you too, and you live on.”
“I guess,” he says.
Then he turns quiet again.
I told him about my mom yesterday, and today he decided to reciprocate. I think that means we’re making progress. He must have liked my present last night.
Suddenly, an alarm rings once, and a red light blinks around the room.
I almost dropped my toast in fright. “What the…?”
Griffin is already on his feet.
“The Highwaymen are giving chase,” says Beet, as a matter of fact.
“Not again,” he growls before disappearing through the passageway.
TheBeetleshakes as we pick up speed. I get a hold of the two mugs before they can slide off the table.
TheHighwaymenare a large group of aggressive nomads. And as their silly name indicates, they get most of their resources through stealing and killing. They travel over a few states. I’ve always done my best to avoid them and succeeded so far.
“Are we fucked?” I ask, throwing the mugs in the sink.
Beet scoffs. “Of course not. They’ve been trying to get us for years and they haven’t even come close once.”
“Oh.”
I feel instantly better. I reach the main room just in time to see Griffin pull two honest-to-gods swords out of a massive chest.
“What is he doing?” I ask as he opens the main hatch and jumps outside while we’re still moving. “The fuck!”
