him. I loved him so much it hurt us both sometimes.
Enoch called me his heart, but he forgot to mention to Hotah that he was my heart, too.
How was I going to explain all that had happened?
Maru watched carefully as Hotah descended the hill, palms out. “He’s a friend,” Enoch announced.
Hotah chuckled as he glanced between the three of us and then asked, “Exactly how many more of your friends will rain from the sky today, Kangi?”
Kohana stood atop the hill, silently watching us from above. He wasn’t surprised that Maru had fallen from the sky, which meant he probably saw me fall and Enoch catch me. But that wasn’t what needled me. Something in his eyes was bothersome.
I wasn’t sure if Kohana was friend… or foe.
Chapter Three
Titus
Did I ever mention how much I hated travelling, or the fact that landing completely sucked? It sucked when I landed in a pile of diseased bodies in various stages of decay; it sucked when I crashed through the roof of a brothel, landing on a couple who were busy… coupling; it sucked when I fell through the thick wooden roof of a chicken coop; and it sucked now that I'd landed in the back of a wagon. Luckily, the wagon wasn't moving at the time, although I'd obliterated its cover and the frame that held it up, blindly crushing the goods it hauled. I'd never be so lucky to land on pillows or comforters, or even hay, as scratchy and sharp as it could be.
Nope. I had to land on stacks of wooden crates. Crates with sharp angles and tacks and nails sticking out of them. Oh, and there were jugs, too. Thick ceramic ones. They held some sort of thick, black grease and thinner, golden-colored oil. Some even contained whiskey. I smelled like all three now.
The best part of all? I wasn't anywhere near my time or the Compound, and had no damn clue where Eve was – yet again. Not a single one. I didn't know what year it was or where I might be, and I couldn't move from the wagon because my back felt like it was broken and my suit hadn't accelerated healing yet. Better yet? The wagon's owner heard the commotion and was shouting from somewhere nearby. He just learned that his livelihood had been crushed. By me.
A wrinkled face glowered at me from the back of the wagon. "What in tarnation?" The old man had a wiry, salt and pepper mustache that was thicker than any I could grow, with a bushy beard to match. I tried not to be jealous.
I'd tried to grow facial hair once, but then Eve told me it made me look like a prepubescent boy, so I shaved it off immediately.
No chick would go for someone with a half-grown beard.
I groaned, wishing I could sit up and at least act like a normal human for once on this journey. I raised my head as the old man aimed a shotgun at me. “Don’t shoot,” I said. “I just fell here. It’s not my fault.”
“Just fell here?” he asked. “From where?”
I raised my forearm and pointed at the sky.
“Why were you hiding in a dead tree, and why did ya jump onto my wagon? I’d have given you a ride if you asked.”
“I misjudged the distance?” I offered, though it sounded more question than answer. “Sorry.”
“Well,” he sniffed, lowering his gun toward the ground. “I guess you can help me clean this up, and maybe find something to salvage. We’re almost to the post. I gotta trade what I can while I can, and don’t even know what I have left.”
His reasoning made me feel somewhat better and I sat up, wincing as I stretched my back. “That sounds fair.” More than fair. I’d have demanded repayment at least – not that I had means to repay him.
“You’ll be paying for what you smashed,” he warned, appearing to read my thoughts.
“Absolutely,” I lied. “As soon as we get to…”
“The tradin’ post,” he finished, with a tone that said he thought I was either stupid or crazy, and he wasn’t sure which or if he even cared.
Dragging his eyes cautiously over my tech suit, he gave me a hand and I jumped out of the wagon. We worked in silence for the next ten minutes, removing the canvas from the wagon’s wooden frame. He whistled when he saw the carnage. “Yes, indeed. You’ll have to make amends. You smashed almost everything. How