It sounds like a god’s name. In a way, he kind of is a god. A human one.
“What? And you call yourself a traveler!” says Beet. “We’re big out there in the wastelands!”
Griffin laughs quietly, more at my face than Beet’s outburst.
“Sorry,” I say. “I usually try to avoid people. I’m not really aware of rumors most of the time.”
People get you killed. My main concern is always the gods’ movements. I like to know where they are at all times. Some move around a lot.
I open the book. It’s the one I started reading again after we retrieved my bags. I’m almost finished.
“Is it good?” Griffin asks, pointing at my book.
“Oh. Yes. Really good, actually.”
“Could I borrow it? Once you’re done.”
“Sure,” I say immediately.
But then I remember what the book is about. It’s a paranormal romance book about a pack of shifters and their lovers. It’s extremely gay and for mature readers. My face warms up. I guess we’ll see if Griffin enjoys it. It might finally give me a tell about his sexual orientation.
“You know what? I should finish it in the next hour,” I say. “Then you can have it.”
“Thanks.”
That night, after dinner, Griffin disappears in his bedroom with my book. I try to picture him reading smut. Does he make his usual serious face as he reads, or is he a little flushed? My mind wanders a little too far, and I wonder if he has scales in other places than his shoulders and arms.
5
The Roc.
“Why are we so shocked by our new reality? We lived like this for thousands of years. Animals still live like this. Look for food, run and hide, build a nest, reproduce, and start it all over again. Until the day you make a mistake and lose in the game of survival. This is life at its core, for all living creatures. We are not different. The sooner we accept it, the better our new reality becomes. The old gods were just the slap we needed to get back to reality. As for me, I was born ready.”
Extract of theJournal of a Survivalist, by Jake Parker, 2043.
We spent the next three days crossing Wyoming until we finally reached the end of the wastelands. TheBeetletravels at a solid pace for a six-legged machine. Especially because she’s not forced to take the roads. She can climb the steepest mountains and walk over the trickiest terrain.
We arrive in Yellowstone at night. It used to be a national park. Normally, the sight of trees would make me happy. Except, Yellowstone is now one of the most dangerous areas of North America. It’s where the Roc has her nest. She’s a giant bird that emerged in Europe during the Rise, and then later flew over the Atlantic Ocean and ended up here. She takes her name from the mythology of the Middle East.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” I ask.
Griffin sits in one of the chairs in the main room, reading the fantasy book I gave him a few days ago. I haven’t seen him read the other one yet.
“Yes. We’re cool with the Roc,” he says.
“How can you be cool with a giant bird goddess?”
“You’ll see.”
I really don’t like going in blind, but what choice do I have? I’m pretty sure theBeetleis still the safest place I can be right now. I’ve never been to Yellowstone. Anybody sane of body and mind just goes around it.
I look through the small window but see nothing but darkness. I cross my arms on my chest and wonder if soon I’ll be dead, when I notice light beyond the trees.
“Wait,” I say. “There’s—”
“Arrived at destination,” says Beet. And she comes to a stop.
“Grab those crates,” Griffin tells me.
