First Gear - Eve Langlais Page 0,3
clean. His own cupboard had barely enough for him to last a few days, let alone longer.
“My aunt’s house. She’s as far as you can go toward the mountains.”
“In the country.”
“Where the air isn’t quite as bad yet. At least according to my aunt.”
For a moment his mind swirled with excuses, none of them good enough to say no. And why would he? What was left for him here? A class with no students. A dwindling cupboard. And no Onaria. Who considered him her best friend.
But the world was about to end, and she wanted to spend it with him. “Why wait until tomorrow? Let’s go tonight.”
“Really?” Spoken with a lilt in her voice.
“Yes, really. Let’s grab only the bare necessities and meet at the train station.”
“You’ll really come with me?”
“Without a doubt.” He’d follow her to the ends of the world if she asked him.
“Oh my goodness. I can’t believe we’re doing this. It’s so exciting.” She kissed his cheek, a warm imprint to reinforce his decision. “Walk me to the bus stop.” She clutched his hand. She did that often. Torture really.
Yet, he couldn’t help the thrill each time she touched him.
He walked her out of the building, guiding her with a hand in the middle of her back. As a courtly gesture. She did it to him all the time, too. Light touches that never failed to ignite.
He’d almost kissed her once. But he’d gotten shy at the last moment.
The bus trundled to a stop before they’d even stopped walking. He held her hand as others embarked. When she moved to board, he released her hand.
She cast him a glance. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Not yet. I need to take care of a few things here before I hit my place.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to lock up?” She rolled her eyes. “I doubt we’ll be back.”
He doubted it as well, but if things got bad, and they did disappear, he liked to think someday someone might find this place, a historian and more of an explorer than he ever managed to be. They would read about what happened and hopefully not repeat their mistakes.
“There’s a few books I want to grab.”
“You and your dusty stories,” she teased. “Don’t take too long. I checked the schedule. There’s only one more train leaving the city tonight.”
Twice a day. No longer the dozen belching trips. People were traveling less these days.
“I’ll be there.” He watched her swing onto the massive vehicle. It trundled off, a noisy beast. Part of the problem.
Returning to the basement, he eschewed the peddling light and found the stash of candles he kept. He lit a taper, the small flame fluttering weakly. It proved enough to help him navigate. With his heart racing at his upcoming departure, and his hands shaking, the last thing he needed was to walk into a bookcase and give himself a concussion.
I’m leaving. Everything he knew. Going into the unknown. With the world ending. But he wouldn’t be alone.
Onaria wanted him with her.
Surely that made them more than just friends.
He wouldn’t know until he met her for the trip. He’d better move lest distraction make him late for the train.
By the light of the candle, he made his way to a table strewn with his research in a far corner. He didn’t bother keeping it in a locked room. No one ever came down here.
A few tomes littered the surface, only one of them open, the writing on it obscure. He’d only dared once call it alien when showing it to another professor. The laughter kept him from sharing it with anyone else.
But what else was he to think when it was written in a language no one recognized? With images that made no sense. Yet he kept returning to study its pages, poring over them in the hopes of figuring it out.
As he often did when flipping through the pages, he drew out the chain around his neck strung with the broken half of a cog. Junk he was told when he bought it for a penny at a market. Yet the strange metal, soft and almost warm to the touch, called to him. Not literally, but by tickling the curiosity of a young man. Over time, that turned into an obsession as he sought to discover the origin of the artifact, because it certainly wasn’t modern. Testing showed it to be over a thousand world revolutions old—which put it existing before his people even knew about machines. Some historians claimed