“Are you hungry?” says Griffin.
Am I hungry? What a stupid question. People like me are always hungry. The slavers fed us disgusting gruel for the past week. And it’s not even considered the lowest time of my life.
I nod. Griffin takes another set of steps and leads me to another room below the main one.
“This is the galley,” he says. “Take whatever you want and eat.” And he leaves.
I stare at the small room. There is a large table in the center. It’s bolted to the floor, like everything I’ve seen so far. I imagine it’s a requirement when the entire house moves. House or ship? He called it agalley, not a kitchen, so I guess we’re in a kind of ship. But besides the vibrations from the floor, we’re pretty stable. I wonder how we’re traveling. Are we hovering like those desert vehicles I saw some nomads use in California, or are we on wheels? Are we flying?
The walls in the galley are covered in wood. There are machines from another time plugged into the walls—bulkheads?—and there’s a full-size fridge. I stare in awe. I’ve only seen them in magazines and old movies. They used them back in the days when food wasn’t that scarce. Who needs to waste electricity on a machine that is never filled?
It can’t be…
I open the fridge door and gasp. It’s full of food. And not just rations and processed food, but veggies and fruits. Most I’ve never tasted in my entire life, like strawberries and cucumbers.
And I can eat whatever I want? I feel like crying as I reach for them with shaky hands. I eat the strawberries right out of the box. Flavors explode on my tongue. This is better than sex.
I grab everything that catches my eye and put it on the table. Beet doesn’t say a thing, so I assume I’m not overstepping yet.
I eat half the cucumber in one go; it’s deliciously crunchy. I eat some beans that I found in a jar. They taste sweet. There is also goat cheese. How did he even get goat cheese? Is he trading with communities?
This man is living the dream. How come I’ve never heard of him? Most mutants are infamous. They usually live a fast life, thanks to their mutations. There are a hundred of them, more or less, and they tend to make waves. They’re the Hollywood stars of our time, just with more blood and violence associated with their names. Some are crime lords, others like to rule their own community, or play heroes. But I’ve never heard of a mutant with red eyes who travels the wastelands.
My stomach is trained to be content with so little that I quickly feel full. I put everything back in the fridge, regretfully. I hope I’ll get to stay a few days at least, to have time to stock up on calories.
I relax in the chair and put my arms on the table to cushion my head. I don’t want to sit in the living room. Beet is right, I smell and my clothes are filthy. I don’t want to give them reasons to kick me out faster than necessary.
The digestion kicks in, and I feel exhaustion pull me down.
“We arrived at our destination,” says Beet.
I blink a few times, trying to erase the dream I was having about Shai-Hulud. It’s not my first time seeing an old god, but it’s not an encounter you easily forget.
“The lake?” I ask.
“Yes, the lake.” She sounds bored.
I rise from my chair and walk back to the main room. The hatch from which we entered theBeetleis wide open. We’re standing in the lake. Griffin is just outside, the water reaching his knees.
“Where are we?” I ask. “Is it safe?”
I don’t like not knowing what threat could be lurking in the blue waters or drinking on the shores.
“It’s safe,” he says.
He still has his hood up, hiding his face in the shadows. I wonder if he always has it, or if it’s just because I’m here.
I pull my shoes off and throw them over my shoulders. They land on the steps. Then I take off my sweatshirt, t-shirt, and cargo pants. This is a rare occasion. It’s been a while since I’ve seen such a magnificent body of water. Most of Central America, save the mountains, is now dry land. The rivers we stopped at with the slavers were murky and thin.
I jump into the water wearing only my boxer shorts. I can feel Griffin’s eyes lingering on me. I know that I’m mostly skin and bones, but I still have some muscles. You can’t survive out there if you’re not fit enough to run and fight when needed. Some people let themselves go after living in peaceful settlements for a while. Until the day a god walks by, or the worst kind of humans attack them, and they’re screwed. I’ll never be one of them.
The water is freezing. The lake is surrounded by mountains and grassy fields. After spending the last few days under a tarp in the desert, the cold feels like a blessing. I dive into the deeper waters. The cold gives me a headache as I swim, but I don’t care. I emerge a little farther away and savor this chance.
I see theBeetlefor the first time and come to an abrupt stop. I stare. It—or, should I say,she—isnot invisible anymore. She’s a massive machine that stands in the water on six legs. Her hull is made of blue and green panels that shine under the sun. I think I can see a shape. I swim away to get some distance. And at last, I understand why she’s calledBeetle.
She’s anactualbeetle, made of metal, wires, and panels. An incredible giant machine built to look like a green insect. She’s the size of a house—a big one. There must be some rooms that I haven’t seen.
There’s a sudden noise, and two large wings open on each side.
