looked over his shoulder and saw the man from the balloon.
“Well, ain’t it my crew,” said Captain Jopek. “How’s doin’s, folks?”
The captain had looked a hundred moon-blasted feet tall last night. Even up close, he’d been all eerie speed and seamless shadow: a sniper from the stars. Here and now, walking through the upturned chairs and the overhead light, the captain was a little more human, comprehensible. But man, still, he made Michael feel tiny.
Silence from the table. For some reason, it felt tense to Michael—though that was probably just because of his nervousness from a moment ago.
The captain took off the helmet he’d had cocked back on his head, took a loud sip from a Red Cross coffee mug.
“Henry, you sleep okay, or you still wakin’ yourself up with your own farts?”
Hank blushed, though he didn’t look displeased. “Just, ah—just when Bobbie makes chili,” he said, grinning.
The captain didn’t smile back, though. Instead, sipping his coffee, he watched Michael. Seemed to do it for a long time. So long that Michael got the idea that the captain was waiting for him to speak, and Michael began to stand up, to thank him for last night, when Captain Jopek suddenly said, “Looks like we got our new lady friends fed.” He spoke with a slight hill-country drawl that seemed to ghost in and out; it would fade in, jab at every couple words. Looks like we got our new lady friends fed.
“I’m a boy,” Patrick pointed out.
“That a fact? Well, boy, this captain’s just happy he could help y’all get to his humble home.”
Michael wasn’t sure he looked that happy.
The captain set his mug down loudly, glided toward them, boot heels clocking, key ring tanging. Michael, still awkwardly hunched, wasn’t sure whether to stand or to sit back again. He settled on sitting.
“Get enough to eat?” the captain asked.
“Yeah. Amazing,” Michael said.
“So, Captain,” said Hank. He stood up, so that it was like he was with the captain on one level, and everyone else on another. “We have some new reconnaissance. The new ladies, heh-heh, were telling us—”
“I heard that, I sure did!” The captain sat down on a tabletop across from them, crossing his arms. After a second, Hank sat back down, looking sheepish. “Pretty excitin’. Boys comin’ back to town! Huh, Bobbie?” he said, yanking her into the conversation without looking to her. “Ain’t that excitin’?”
“Oh. Yes, absolutely.”
“Miss Bobbie, you’re sweet as tea,” said the captain, “but you sure oughtta sound more excited, ladylove, ’cause this is the news. The big one. We oughtta put this on a banner and drag it behind a plane.”
Bobbie tugged at her gold wedding band, fidgeting.
“Whelp, I reckon it’s time to do us another field trip. Hank, you get that gear primed.”
“On it.” Hank nodded. And okay, it was official: he was absolutely trying to make his voice deeper. “When do you want to leave, sir?”
“How about oh-now-hundred?”
Hank snorted laughter.
“I think I’m gonna chat first, though,” the captain said, “with my new buddies here.”
He cleared his throat.
And nodded toward the door, indicating that everyone else should exit the cafeteria. As Holly and Hank and Bobbie left, Patrick whispered to Michael, excited, “Like a zoo field trip?”
Michael shrugged to quiet Patrick.
Follow your breath, Michael thought. Feel your blood. Because the captain was probably going to ask questions about the soldiers. Which would not have been a big deal—Michael could just take the captain aside and tell him he’d white-lied. . . . But sitting there, looking up at the captain’s odd, unreadable eyes, Michael couldn’t help but think of last night. And the way the captain had been so quick to strike him in the head.
“So, hey,” Michael said at last, “I have to say, thank you so much for last night.”
“Got pretty good accommodations compared to what you’re used to, I reckon. Glad I could get you some clothes, too—hope you weren’t attached to the old ones; I had to check you for bites before I let you into my Capitol. We’re a little low on food and meds, maybe. But of course, with them soldiers comin’, sounds like that won’t be a problem soon, right?”
That smile again: all teeth, no eyes. Captain Jopek uncrossed his arms, lay thick, scarred hands on the table. Relaxed, comfortable with the quiet: that’s how it looked. So why did his waiting feel like a prodding finger looking for a loose board?
Imagining it. Paranoid.
“Michael, you got somethin’ you want to tell me?” the captain said.