Crucible Zero

  “Evelyn,” Quinten said, standing up from the table and making direct eye contact with me. His expression was asking me to play along, to be Evelyn for him and for the people around us. “I told you the Grubens would be here before sunrise, didn’t I?” He gave me a cheery smile, and I smiled back.

  “You sure did,” I said nicely.

  “Why don’t you just sit down and have some breakfast with Pete and me?” he said. “We’ve almost finished planning for our trip.”

  “Sure,” I said. I knew he was trying to guide me through how I was expected to behave in front of these people, but it was annoying to be talked to as if I were a child who always minded her manners.

  I really wish you would have stood your ground more, Evelyn.

  “Everything okay in the other room, Jacinta?” he asked the woman who had led me into the kitchen.

  Now I had a name for her.

  “Oh, it’s fine. You know how they get when there’s a day ahead of them and no particular chores. Think they’re going to do nothing but waste the hours away, chasing your beasties around.”

  “Who thinks that?” Right Ned asked as he walked in from outside.

  “Mike, Ace, and all the rest of the kids in there,” Jacinta said. “You’re looking well, Neds.”

  “I’ll be looking even better after a plate of Dolly’s amazing cooking.”

  The girl at the stove glanced over her shoulder. She had the most amazing green-gold eyes framed by orange freckles. “Well then, sit down, Mr. Harris, and be prepared to be amazed.”

  I walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a plate for myself and one for Neds. Dolly filled Neds’ plate with eggs and a generous slab of ham, two hunks of bread, and a muddle of undetermined greens.

  “Hey, Evelyn.” The man at the stove next to Dolly could be her twin, with the same eyes and freckling. “I brought along a couple spools of mercerized cotton, if you have anything interesting to swap for them.”

  “What kind of interesting?” I asked.

  “You know the kinds of things I like.” He lowered his head and gave me a direct stare that made me blush.

  “I don’t think I’ll be here for very long,” I said, trying to make it sound like I regretted not taking him up on the offer.

  “Oh, we don’t need much time,” he said a little quieter.

  His sister smacked his arm with the spatula. “Leave her be, Tom. She’s been turning you down for years. A couple skeins of cotton aren’t going to make her change her mind.”

  “Can’t blame a man for trying,” he said with a grin.

  I gave them both a quick smile and beat a hasty retreat with the full plates in my hands.

  Neds were standing right behind me. “Thank you, Evelyn. Now be a dear and pour me some coffee, won’t you?” Left Ned asked while Right Ned waggled his eyebrows.

  “Sure,” I said through my teeth. These Evelyn-like manners were not going to last if he pushed it. “I’d be happy to.”

  I set my plate aside on the counter, then scrounged for mugs while he sat down and started eating. Poured coffee for Neds and myself, then hooked the mugs in one hand and my plate in the other.

  “Here you go.” I set the coffee in front of Neds and put my plate down in front of one of the empty chairs at the end of the table.

  Abraham and Foster hadn’t moved. They still stood at the end of the kitchen like forgotten statues. It was creepy. “Can I get you anything?” I asked them.

  Quinten and Pete stopped talking, and both looked over at me like I’d just lost my mind.

  Abraham blinked, his hazel eyes flecked with a little more red than yesterday. “Coffee would be nice.”

  “Sure thing. You can have mine. I’m of the mood for tea anyway,” I walked over, handed him the cup.

  He took it, his fingers brushing mine, and the look of curiosity and need flared in his eyes.

  Oh, don’t go starting that now.

  “Thank you . . . Evelyn,” he said quietly, holding his fingers all to himself.

  Yeah, I heard his unspoken question: Why are these people calling you Evelyn? So there was another thing I’d have to explain. But not now.

  “Foster?” I said. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

  “Water. Thank you.”

  I poured him a tall glass of water and took it to him, aware that all eyes in the room were on me. He accepted it with a grateful nod.

  “Evelyn,” Quinten said. “Please join us.”

  I walked back over to the table. Tom and Dolly were staring at me like I’d just snatched my head out of a lion’s mouth.

  “As we were saying,” Quinten continued, “we’ll be heading out as soon as we’ve eaten. Is the truck in order, Neds?”

  “All set,” Left Ned said while Right Ned took a big bite of bread and ham.

  “I still don’t think little Evelyn should have to go along with you,” Pete said. “Might as well leave her here with us. We can keep an eye on her.”

  Little Evelyn?

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I know how to take care of myself. It’s not like I’ve never fired a gun.”

  Neds kicked me under the table. “Plus,” I added, “Quinten might need me for, um . . . stitching, and all that . . . womanly stuff I do.”

  Left Ned rolled his eyes, and Right Ned choked on his food.

  I shoveled some eggs and toast into my mouth to keep from screwing this up any worse.

  Good choice. The food was delicious.

  Dolly set a mug of water and tea leaves in front of me. She shook her head, as if telling me she couldn’t believe what I’d just said. I guess I wasn’t very good at being Evelyn.

  “All right,” Pete said cautiously. “You’re set on this, Quinten?”

  “It’d be best for her to come with us. But I sure do appreciate you and yours keeping an eye on Grandma and the beasts.”

  “It is our pleasure,” Pete said. “Always, always happy to help out a Case. Why, your grandmother practically raised me and my brothers. You’re family.”

  “You certainly are,” Jacinta said, and sat down next to Pete. She reached across the table to pat Quinten’s arm. “But are you sure it’s wise to hire those . . . gentlemen?”

  She was talking about Abraham and Foster.

  Quinten nodded. “I believe they will be very helpful to us in attaining our goals.”

  “Be sure to send a call once you reach the compound,” Pete said.

  “I will.”

  “Well, then, give Paxton our love,” Jacinta said. “And tell him I expect him home for a visit before the weather goes bad.”

  Quinten nodded and hid his frown by drinking down the last of his coffee. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

  Neds sat back from the table, then stood and drank coffee while returning their plate to the sink.

  Tom lost a game of rock-paper-scissors with Dolly and started up a sink full of soapy water for washing.

  “Daylight is just about upon us,” Quinten said. “I still can’t believe you got out here so quickly.”

  “Ferals weren’t too bad, since we traveled quiet and most of them were denning up for the day. I think it’s going to be a hot one.”

  Both men rose from the table, and then there was a general hubbub of putting dishes away, and good-byes and handshakes and hugs.

  The rest of the crew in the living room must have heard the commotion. They came pouring into the kitchen, and in an instant there was no place to stand in the room that wasn’t filled with a Gruben looking to say farewell or jostling for seats at the table, while fussy children were being soothed by mothers and fathers alike.

  I tried to slip out onto the porch without being noticed, but Evelyn must have been a favorite among the family members. Each and every one of them gave me a hug and made me promise to stay safe and keep
that brother of mine out of trouble.

  The sea of faces all blurred into each other, and I felt bad that I didn’t remember their names. It was overwhelming to be cared for by so many people. I’d never had a big family, since all of my life I’d lived on this farm, hiding from the world with just Neds, Grandma, and Quinten.

  But this comfortable chaos put a real smile on my face. It might be a hard life these people were living; it might be a hard life I was living. But it was a good life, with joy and good people in it. And these Grubens were good people.

  I finally escaped the kitchen and hugs and stepped outside. During the good-byes, I had been handed a cloth-wrapped wedge of chocolate; the cotton thread Tom had teased me about and a few other good-luck charms, buttons, and stones. I tucked them all away in my duffel, but pocketed the good-luck stones.

  I figured I could use as much luck as I could get.

  Abraham and Foster had long ago exited the kitchen. They stood a short distance from the house.

  Morning light was just edging the sky with a pink blush, and the occasional birdsong peppered with the other stitched beasts’ warbles and growls.

  I walked over to the two men. “Sorry about my brother’s lack of manners in there. Did you two get something to eat?”

  Foster smiled and made a little grunting noise, then looked over at Abraham expectantly.

  “We were up before the Grubens arrived,” he said. “We ate. Evelyn, is it now?”

  “Thank you for going along with that.”

  “Your brother called you that yesterday. Why do all those people think you are Evelyn?”

  “Because I was. I guess. Up until yesterday.”

  Abraham was not a dumb man. He seemed to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “She’s been alive in that body up until recently?”

  I nodded.

  “When?”

  “Just before you showed up. For me, just after the Wings of Mercury experiment exploded and the infinity bell rang out.”

  “September thirteenth, 1910,” he said.

  “And yesterday was September thirteenth, 2210.”

  “So, when you said your brother had lost a sister . . .”

  “He did. And she was a sister he very much loved.”

  He was silent a moment. I wondered, in his three hundred years, how many people close to him he had lost.

  Abraham shifted his gaze to the horizon, and the specter of pain fell over him briefly.

  “So, you’re not seeing him at his best,” I said. “I mean, he’s smart—a genius, really. Runs a little hot on the temper side, but he’s a good man. He’s done a lot to help people, even when he didn’t get anything back from it.

  “And there’s one more thing you should know. The plague hit Compound Five. There are six people infected, as far as we know. I’d understand it if you don’t want to go there with us.”

  “Why?” he asked, turning back to me, his left hand tucked in his belt, his shoulder lowered.

  “Well, it’s a plague. A bad one,” I said.

  “And?”

  “And if you don’t want to be exposed . . .”

  “It is the small details like that, Matilda, that makes me want to believe your outlandish tales.”

  “True tales, outlandish or not,” I corrected. “What details?”

  “Galvanized aren’t affected by the plagues.”

  “We aren’t?”

  “No.”

  “None of the plagues?”

  “No. We’ve been through all of them, and all of us are standing.”

  “Oh. So that’s good.”

  “Seems to be.” He was smiling, the stitched corner of his mouth lower than the other. I liked that smile on him. Especially when it was aimed at me.

  “Well, Quinten has a friend there who’s infected,” I said.

  “That makes sense. I couldn’t fathom why we’d have to go out there in person, when you have a radio in the basement.”

  “How do you know about the radio?”

  “Every ’steader has a radio.”

  “Okay.”

  “You might not want to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Believe everything I say. I could be lying, you know, and have just found out you have a radio.”

  “Don’t worry. There’s something I haven’t told you about me.”

  “Oh?”

  “I can tell when anyone lies. It’s a gift.” I was lying through my teeth.

  His eyebrows ticked down, and he bit his lip.

  Okay, the lip thing was totally becoming a distraction. It made me want to kiss him, to taste him, to run my tongue along that curve of him and see what he’d do to me in return.

  “Evelyn?” Quinten called out from the kitchen door, where I was sure the Grubens could still hear him. “Do you want to say good-bye to Grandma?”

  I knew I should. “Sure. Be right in.”

  I left Abraham and made my way back through the noise and laughter, which was layered with comments about how quickly I’d made it to Compound Five and back. Grandma was at the table, as excited to be there among the noise as I’d ever seen her.

  “I wanted to give you a hug,” I told her, doing just that.

  “Are you going somewhere, dear?” she asked.

  “Just for a little while. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Shouldn’t I go? I should go. It’s time to go. Always time. I’ll bring the sheep.” She patted her lap, looking for the sheep, which were not there.

  “It’s time to stay. I’ll be home before you know it.” I gave her a peck on the cheek. “In the meantime, the Grubens will be here with Floyd, and that’s going to be fun, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes.” She brightened a little, then gave me a very clear look. “I will see you in time, Matilda. Be safe, my child.”

  I glanced up, and a couple of the people looked uncomfortably at me or at her with concern in their eyes.

  “I will be careful,” I said. “Don’t worry a bit.”

  The people around us seemed to relax when I took the name change in stride. I said one final farewell and got the heck out of there.

  They were good people, loving people. I could see that. But the longer I stayed with them, the easier it would be for me or Quinten to slip up and reveal that I wasn’t who they thought I was. And explaining what I was, who I was, had quickly become tiresome.

  I strode outside again, and found Neds had brought what must be the “truck” out of the barn.

  It was not now, nor had it ever been, a truck.

  It looked more like an armored bus and a Conestoga wagon had had unprotected sex. The engine was running strong and smooth, a deep, chugging growl, but I didn’t smell gasoline. I wondered what it used for fuel.

  Quinten walked out of the kitchen, waving his hand behind him one last time. He wore a backpack slung over one shoulder and a duffel that looked like it weighed something in his hand.

  Peter and Jacinta were in the doorway, his arm around her shoulder. “Bye, now!” Jacinta called out. “Safe travels.”

  I gave them a wave too.

  “Let’s go,” Quinten said as he passed me.

  I followed him into the vehicle, which was separated with seats up front and benches that looked like they could break down into beds in the back. The rear of the vehicle was also fitted with cupboards and a small table.

  Neds sat the driver’s seat, and Quinten made himself comfortable in the middle of the bus.

  Foster and Abraham stepped into the vehicle and paused just inside, as if committing the space to memory. Then Foster moved silently down to the back and chose a seat, while Abraham took the seat in the front, nearest the door and Neds. He reached over and slid the door closed.

  “The direct route?” Right Ned asked, glancing in the rear
view mirror at Quinten.

  “To begin with,” Quinten said. “Once we make Copple’s Rise, we’ll decide which road looks best.”

  Neds slipped the beast of a vehicle into gear and put his foot down. The vehicle lunged forward, then smoothed out, taking us down the dirt road of the farm, past lizards of various sizes.

  I stared out the window, hungrily taking in the view. The farm was beautiful in the pale beginnings of the day. Fields neatly tacked down by split-wood fences; orchards of pear and also plum, peach, and apple; and generous acreage set aside for vegetables and grain.

  “Just the three of us work the land?” I asked.

  Quinten was watching out the window too, but he was much more subdued. “We bring in the Grubens during harvest when we need it. Trade our grain for their meat.”

  I noticed a clump of cream-colored sheep, small but not as tiny as the pocket sheep Grandma kept around. They were normal-looking except for their ridiculous rabbit ears that stood tall off their heads.

  “Bunny sheep?”

  He smiled. “Shabbits. They were a fluke. I stitched some bits together, wondering if it would affect the wool they produced.”

  “Did it?”

  “Yes. They are also the only stitched I’ve made that breed. So there’s quite a few of them now.”

  “And does their wool, um . . . hold bits of time?”

  He frowned. “No. Why would you even assume. . . . Wait. Did they before?”

  “I don’t know how it worked. Grandma could do it. She knitted up spare bits of time in their wool somehow—the tiny-sheep wool; she didn’t have shabbits. She never told me how, and I’ve only used it twice.”

  “She knits,” he said. “But she’s never mentioned she’s knitting time. Not even when she was of a clearer mind. It isn’t something I think is possible.”

  “There’s a lot of impossible going around these days.” Maybe the wool did hold time. More likely, it didn’t. When I saw Grandma again, I’d ask her.

  The fields rolled past, and I caught a glimpse of more lizards, trundling along the edges of trees and slinking through tall grasses. They were built like patchwork dragons made of crocodiles and a hodgepodge of iguana, monitor, and turtle.