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  “Same as he’s having,” Tall replied, poking a finger toward me, “but eggs scrambled, waffles instead of pancakes, and coffee straight black, no sugar. Thanks.”

  “Gotcha. And you, sweetie?”

  Ned beamed at her. “Make mine the same as both of theirs.”

  Delia frowned. “Well, which one, hon? You want your eggs over easy or scrambled? Waffles or pancakes? Coffee with or without sugar.”

  “Yes, please.”

  She eyed him a second, then laughed. “One of those, huh? Okay, you got it.” Coffee’ll be right up.” And she swept up our menus and somehow disappeared into the throng.

  I rubbed my hands together. “I can’t wait! When was the last time we ate, anyway?”

  “I ate on the train,” Ned admitted without even a trace of guilt.

  “You what? There was food on that thing?”

  “Oh, sure—there’s a whole dining car. It’s in the middle.”

  I glared at him. “When did you have time to eat there?” I demanded.

  “While I was scouting,” he answered.

  “You mean while those dinos were shooting at us?”

  He shrugged. “There wasn’t a line.”

  “So you ate a few hours ago, basically—not counting however much time we were passed out in the control car?”

  “Yep.”

  “And now you’re gonna have a double breakfast.”

  “Yep.” Ned patted his ample belly. “I never pass up a good meal.”

  “I can see that.” He was clearly unapologetic—and I couldn’t really blame him, since I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing in his shoes—so I turned to Tall, who was sitting next to me. Ned had the other side of the booth all to himself. He needed it.

  “What about you?” I asked Tall. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I had a PowerBar while we were on our way here,” he admitted. “After the whole Ultraspace thing.”

  “A PowerBar? What, were there vending machines on the train, too?”

  Tall shook his head. “I always carry one in my suit jacket,” he explained. “Along with a glow-stick, a book of matches, a roll of tape, a pocket knife, a permanent marker, some chewing gum, a few paper clips, several band-aids, a little tube of skin lotion, a travel toothbrush and toothpaste, dental floss, my iPod, and a finger puppet.”

  I stared at him. “What are you, a Boy Scout?”

  “Eagle Scout,” he answered proudly.

  “You carry all that in your jacket?” He nodded. “I shudder to think what you’ve got in your pants. Pockets.”

  “Not much,” he admitted. “Coins, cash, credit cards, ID, a pen, a handkerchief.”

  I shook my head, but couldn’t help asking, “What’s with the finger puppet?”

  “Entertainment on long rides,” Tall replied. “That and it’s a good ice-breaker.”

  “Uh-huh.” I eyed him closely. “Admit it, you have an entire finger-puppet kingdom at home, don’t you? And when no one’s around, you get them all out and play with them, have them fight each other and stage little parades and tiny sting operations and all that.” The blush crossing his face told me I was right, but I found I couldn’t laugh at him as much as I’d thought. It was nice to know Tall did have some wacky little habits of his own. It made him almost approachable.

  Delia broke the awkward silence by reappearing beside our table and plunking down four cups of coffee, three glasses of water, and three place settings. I didn’t see a tray anywhere, but I was careful not to look too closely. I didn’t want to spoil the illusion.

  “Food’ll be up in a minute,” she told us before sashaying off again. I didn’t miss the appreciative glance Tall threw her way. So it wasn’t just the food!

  “Ah!” I was busy wrapping my hands around my coffee cup, letting the warmth trickle up through my fingers. “Mmmm.” I took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of fresh, hot coffee. Oh, yeah. It had already been too long since my last caffeine fix, and my body was screaming that if it didn’t get some soon it was gonna go into full and open revolt. But I overruled it. I wanted to savor this.

  Tall and Ned were doing the same thing. Clearly we were all long-time devotees of the coffee god. Finally, our prayers finished, each of us raised a cup, lifted it to our lips, took one last appreciative sniff, and took a long, deep drink.

  Ahhhhhh.

  I have no idea what we were really drinking. Or where we really were. Hell, for all I knew we were being handed rocks and glowing radioactive sludge. Or nothing at all, and any aliens nearby were laughing their asses or anatomical equivalents off seeing us three crouching on nothing and drinking nothing. But I didn’t care. Because as far as I was concerned, this was coffee. Real coffee. Good coffee. I’m not talking gourmet crap, either, with its fancy flavors and delicate aroma. No, this was good strong truck-stop coffee, the kind that you could use to strip paint if necessary. The kind that scalded its way down your throat and into your belly before releasing its caffeine to storm your bloodstream, taking your entire system by force and jolting you with enough juice to power a small city. The kind you could taste in your toes, harsh and heavy and thick as motor oil.

  Oh, yeah.

  All three of us let out appreciative sighs at the same time. Then we quickly took a second gulp.

  “Toast’s up,” Delia announced, showing up and setting a stack of toast and a handful of butter packets down before us. She laughed at our blissful expressions. “Been a while since you boys had a decent cup, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” I told her.

  “That’s a helluva mug you’ve got there,” she noticed, and I knew she wasn’t talking about the chipped coffee cup I held, which read Red’s Truck Stop on the side in faded print. “Where you fellas from?”

  “Earth,” Tall and I both replied.

  “Betelgeuse,” Ned answered. “Or thereabouts.”

  “Oh yeah?” He had Delia’s attention now. “Whereabouts, exactly? I’ve got a cousin over that way.”

  “Artelusia IX,” Ned admitted, then shook his head. “I know, I know—”

  But Delia interrupted him. “Get out! That’s where my cousin’s stationed! She’s in the Praetorian Magnate!”

  Ned’s eyes lit up. Literally. I had to wince at the glare. “Over on Randall Ave.? I grew up right near there!” He leaned forward. “There used to be the most amazing restaurant right near the Magnate, Gus’s All-You-Can-Eat Melva Buffet—”

  “It’s still there!” Delia assured him. “She was raving about it the last time I talked to her, insisted I had to come out there for a visit and try it myself!”

  “You do, you do,” Ned urged. “Get the warab filet—it’s incredible!”

  “The warab, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.” She winked at him, and nodded at Tall and I. “Order’s up, sounds like. I’ll be right back with the grub.” And then she was gone again.

  Ned looked the happiest I’d seen him. “Nice to find somebody who actually knows the old homestead, huh?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He took another sip of coffee. “It’s a really small place, so most people’ve never even heard of it. I haven’t been back there in ages, though. It’s good to know Gus’s is still around.” He leaned toward us. “Once all this is over, you guys’ve gotta come back there with me. The food will knock you on your rear, it’s that good. My treat.”

  “Thanks!” I never pass up free food, especially when it comes so highly recommended. Hell, I don’t even pass up free food that’s been rejected. Or condemned. I’m not all that picky. But it was cool of Ned to invite us back to his hometown. He was okay. For a little alien plumber-dude.

  Delia was back, this time balancing four huge trays, one on each shoulder. No, I didn’t look twice. I didn’t want to know. She expertly slid the food in front of us, stacking it where necessary, then smiled, patted Tall and Ned on the shoulders—I was on the inside so she couldn’t reach—and vanished again. I wasn’t entirely sure that was ju
st an expression in her case, but right now I really didn’t care. I was too fixated on the food.

  For the next few minutes there was nothing but chewing, gulping, slurping, cutting, and sighing. With occasional moans of sheer bliss.

  It was amazing.

  I’m not sure I’ve ever had bacon that good. Or eggs. Or pancakes. The orange juice tasted fresh-squeezed, and the coffee—well, the coffee defied words and demanded unquestioning homage. Okay, so there was a split-second there at one point where I had a piece of bacon in my hand and it seemed to—well, waver around the edges a bit—and then became something blue and mushy and a bit fuzzy, but I forced that image away. I didn’t want to know what was really here right now, thank you very much. I could deal with reality later. For now I was enjoying my food. And man, was I enjoying it! It was probably the best breakfast I’ve had in my entire life.

  This whole trip so far was worth it just for that.

  “Oh, yeah,” I leaned back and patted my now very full belly. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

  “Definitely.” Tall burped.

  Ned nodded. “This place may just tie with Gus’s for my affections,” he admitted happily. He’d managed to polish off two full breakfasts and had kept pace with Tall and I while doing it. I guess aliens need a lot of fuel.

  “Everything okay, boys?” Delia asked, snatching empty plates and stacking them into a towering, swaying heap. “Y’all need anything else?”

  “A little more coffee,” I admitted, tapping my almost-empty cup. Ned and Tall both nodded. “But otherwise we’re good. Thanks.”

  “More coffee, coming right up. And I’ll bring you your check.” The last word came from nowhere because she’d already disappeared again.

  The check. Right. I glanced at Ned and Tall—mainly at Ned. There was a sudden blossom of fear in my belly. Though that could have been the coffee consuming the other food and starting to work on my stomach lining.

  “What kind of check are we looking at here, Ned?” I asked quietly. “How much is this gonna set us back? And how’re we gonna pay? Do they take debit cards?”

  “Not Earth debit cards, no,” Ned answered, which made the fear or the coffee growl and start chewing more aggressively. “But all kinds of other stuff.”

  “Like?”

  Delia was back, pouring more coffee into each of our cups. Then she tossed a scrap of paper onto the table, where it landed smack-dab in the middle. “There you go, boys,” she told us. “Just pay me when you’re ready, okay?” And she was gone again.

  I glanced at the paper, which looked just like a check from back home—complete with utterly indecipherable scribbles. Tall looked equally baffled and worried by it. Ned didn’t seem concerned, though.

  “So how much do we owe?” I asked him.

  “Seventeen wiglipar,” he told us. “Plus tip, of course. Figure twenty.”

  “And what’s a wiglipar when it’s at home?”

  “One of these.” He pulled a few gummy worms out of his pocket and tossed them onto the table atop the check. They really looked like gummy worms. But when I leaned in to stare at one I saw that it had metal traceries within it, and a silvery sheen.

  “Okay, that’s . . . five. What about the other fifteen?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t carry a lot of cash,” he admitted. “But it’s fine. They accept trade here.”

  “Trade? So we can leave items of appropriate value instead?”

  “Absolutely. People do it all the time.”

  “What do we have that might be worth fifteen willipur?” Tall asked.

  “Wiglipar,” Ned corrected. “And I have no idea. Let’s find out.”

  We spent the next few minutes emptying our pockets. Then Tall and I watched as Ned did his impression of Antiques Roadshow on the mishmash before him.

  “Worthless,” he said, picking up the few bills we’d added and tossing them aside. “Might as well be worthless”—those were the coins. “Too valuable”—he handed Tall back his finger puppet, which looked like a little ghost with an oversized exposed brain. “Too hard to exchange”—that was the book of matches. “These’ll do, though.” He scooped up two of the Band-aids, the little tube of toothpaste, a stray guitar pick I’d had—no, I don’t play—and one of those goofy religious tracts someone had handed me in the subway that morning. I was sorry to see the tract go—I hadn’t read it yet.

  Delia must have been hovering because she was back the minute Ned gathered everything in his hands. “All set?” she asked. “Need any change?” She held out her hands and Ned transferred the pile to them.

  “Nope, we’re all set,” he assured her.

  She glanced down at the assortment she was holding, then back up at us—and smiled. “Well, thanks, fellas! Y’all have a real nice day now, y’hear? And stop in again next time you’re over this way.”

  “Oh, we will,” I told her. Ned and Tall both nodded enthusiastically. Then we pried ourselves from the booth and lumbered back toward the door and back outside.

  “That was incredible,” I said as we stepped back out into the cold. There were still flurries but they weren’t as heavy as they’d been before.

  Tall nodded. “If we ever manage proper space flight of our own,” he muttered, “I’m definitely marking this place as a must.”

  Ned was looking around. “There’s Mary,” he said after a second, pointing. “Let’s go.”

  We trudged after him, and caught up with Mary a minute later. She was standing beside a massive garbage truck—and a huge, grossly overweight trucker. He had a long ZZ Top beard, scraggly hair, beady little eyes, acne-scarred cheeks, a red nose, and a battered Minnesota Twins baseball cap pulled down almost to his eyes.

  “This is Benenin Li-ong Ack,” Mary informed us. “He has agreed to take us to our destination, or near enough that we can make our own way the remaining distance.”

  The trucker grinned at us. “Call me Benny. How y’all doin’?” His teeth were yellowed where they weren’t blackened, and he spat a gob of tobacco on the ground by his feet. “Climb on in and let’s get this puppy rollin’!”

  I shook my head as he ambled back around to the driver’s side—we could hear the grunts as he hoisted himself up and in, then wiggled himself into the driver’s seat. “He’s the best you could find?” I asked Mary quietly, letting Ned and Tall scoot up into the truck before us.

  “His is the first core-equipped vehicle leaving for the center,” Mary answered just as quietly. “And he agreed to let us travel with him. Why?”

  “Never mind.” I gave her a hand up, then climbed in myself and pulled the door shut behind me. I was wedged in against the window, but I didn’t mind. It put me well away from Benny’s breath and tobacco juice, and this way I could watch the snow. I stared out the window as he started up his truck and pulled out of the lot, and craned my neck to see Red’s as it disappeared behind us. I was sorry to see the place go.

  I’d kept my coffee mug. It was still warm, and I held it tightly in both hands as Benny shifted his garbage truck into a higher gear and we rumbled along our way.

  At least, even if I failed to save the universe and we all ceased to exist, I’d had a damned fine breakfast beforehand. And a souvenir—if an imaginary one—to prove it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Taking out the trash

  “So how long will it take to get there?” I asked. Okay, shouted. Garbage trucks are loud! And apparently there’s no soundproofing on the inside—I guess they figure the garbage men are already mostly deaf so why bother?

  “Not long!” Bennie shouted back. “Y’all are right on my route!”

  “Great!” I considered that for a minute. “On your route? What route?”

  That got him laughing so hard he started choking. Tall, who was sitting next to Benny—okay, smushed up against Benny, if you want to get picky about it—wound up having to pound him on the back several times to get him breathing again.

  “What kinda route you think I mea
n, boy?” Benny gasped after he’d recovered. “A paper route?” He looked on the verge of cracking up again. “This is a garbage truck, ain’t it?”

  “Oh. Right.” I glanced around as best I could while sandwiched up against the door. The cab wasn’t that big, and behind the bench seat there wasn’t a lot of room. Nor had there been anyone holding onto those handles along the back. “So,” I ventured after a minute, “you do this route all by yourself?”

  “Not usually, no,” Benny admitted, hauling on the wheel and sending the truck skittering on two wheels as it cut a sharp turn. I couldn’t even see streets out there—the snow had picked up again, and was now at near-blizzard levels—but I guess he could. Or maybe he’d just been swerving to avoid hitting someone. “Got me a partner, Three Blue Alpha, but he took himself sick this morning. Somethin’ he ate, no doubt—that boy’ll eat anything. And I do mean anything. So I been pullin’ the route all on my lonesome all mornin’.” He flashed all of us a tobacco-stained grin. “Till y’all showed up. Happy to have the company, and the help.”

  “Help?” I twisted so I could glare at Mary, who was squeezed up next to me—not that I wasn’t enjoying the enforced proximity. “What help?”

  “That was the arrangement Benny and I reached,” she explained without even a trace of guilt. “He agreed to convey us to our destination, provided we rendered him assistance in performing his appointed tasks.”

  “You signed us on for garbage duty?”

  “Yes.” I was pretty sure I saw a glint of amusement in those pretty blue eyes. “The three of you had left me to make the arrangements, and this seemed the quickest and most efficient way.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re planning on hauling garbage yourself?” I asked her. I could see from her slow smile that I’d guessed the answer already.

  “Why, surely you three big strong men can handle that without me.” For an alien-altered intermediary she did a surprisingly good “innocent and helpless little maiden” look. Guess there are some things you just can’t take away. “Or would it be too much for you?”