Across the Sand by Hugh Howey

Author:Hugh Howey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-07-22T00:00:00+00:00

25

A Patch of Green

Anya

Ten days earlier

“YOU KNOW WHAT the world needs?” Jonah asked.

“Robot servants who obey our every command,” Anya guessed, based on his speech the night before while doing the dishes.

“No, it needs a decent card game for three people. Think about it. There aren’t any. It’s either one, two, or four.”

Anya turned to Henry and said in Sand, “He’s just crying because he never wins.”

Henry laughed.

“Please stop talking about me in that language,” Jonah said. He looked at Anya, very serious, brow knitted in concentration. “Do you have any fours?”

“Keep digging,” Anya said.

Jonah tossed his hand down. “Okay, I quit. I swear you’re lying. This game is dumb.”

Anya laughed and showed him her hand so he could see there weren’t any fours. “You’re right, though,” she said. “I’m sick of this game.” She got out of the booth and stretched. It was almost time for dinner, and the thought of more canned pasta and the chemical-tasting water didn’t arouse much of an appetite. “Day eleven,” she said. To Henry, in Sand, “Pop said it’d be a week, tops. Can we please go check on him now?”

She was mostly using the language she’d learned in the pens to unknot mental muscles, but also to prove to Henry that she could’ve gone with her dad and Darren like she had begged to.

“I caught like two words of that,” Jonah interjected. He’d been trying to learn some of the vocabulary on his own. “You said ‘week’ and ‘please.’ Right?”

“Your dad is fine,” Henry said. “His only problem is that he’s an optimist.”

“That’s a problem?” she asked.

“It has been in the past, yes. He thinks things will work out okay, that they’ll go smoother than they will. Whatever timeframe he gives, people who’ve worked with him a while just double it, then sometimes double it again for a safety margin.”

“Because he’s an optimist,” Anya repeated to herself. She ran a glass of water from the filtered line and took a sip, winced at the slightly off taste. “I used to get so pissed at him for being away so long. He’d say he’d be gone a month, and it’d end up being four—”

“Yup. Sounds like your father. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Even with you here babysitting us instead of helping him? Jonah and I would’ve been okay here by ourselves—”

“Yeah, we’d be playing Rum instead of Keep Digging,” Jonah said. “Rum is way better.”

“Are you following along?” Anya asked in Common.

He pinched the air. “A little. I got the last sentence. Will you please stop talking in that?”

“If you two’d been left here alone,” Henry said, “how many days before you would’ve borrowed one of the other sarfers and set off to try and find us?”

Anya considered the question. “Five,” she said. “But only because Jonah would’ve been driving me crazy.” She opened the cupboard. “Ravioli or macaroni? Warm or cold? Red sauce or orange?”

“Macaroni, hot, orange,” Jonah said.

Anya pulled out two cans and set them on the counter.

“I think it’s my turn to cook,” Henry said, getting up.

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