Corva awakens in the cot, again. Her memories are still a flashing foggy mess, but she’s got a better sense of which memories are from dreams and which ones are from real events. At least, she thinks she does.

Sitting up slowly, she notes that the room is brighter than before. The boy, Jack, sits atop his bedroll, mug in hand and a fresh bandage over his right eye. He grabs a second mug from the ground next to him and points it at her.

“Coffee?”

Corva nods and watches as Jack pours half of the contents of his own mug into the one he’d offered her. He notices the tinge of revulsion in her face and smiles. “It’s fresh. I haven’t drank any yet. Just sat down, in fact. Weren’t sure how long it’d be ’til you came to. If I’d known, I would’ve brewed more.”

He reaches forward and offers her the coffee. She hesitates a moment, inspecting the mug without touching it. Curls of steam twirl up from the dark liquid, carrying the bold, pungent aroma toward her. It smells fresh at least. And it’s hot. Two marks in favor.

She accepts the mug with both hands. It’s warm to the touch, comforting. She takes a sip. Hot, but not scalding. Hot enough to hurt him pretty badly if she splashes it in his face, though. Is he stupid or is he trying to get her trust? Still, she finds herself enjoying the drink’s flavor. It’s been a while since she’s had a coffee with this much care put into it. Coffee isn’t exactly easy to come by. Most of the time, it’s from dirty old bags that’d been stored for way too long. This doesn’t taste like that. No tinge of mildew. No aftertaste of dust.

She stares into the mug, trying to decide between finishing it and smashing it over his head. She knows where she is now. Getting out would be easy.

She glances up and sees Jack’s grin grow wider. He looks up to the top of the ladder. “Ha! I told you she’d like it!” He pulls his gaze back down to her. “Zeke here was convinced you’d splash me with the coffee and bolt. He don’t know how good my coffee is. Ain’t no one in the world who’d waste that deliciousness.”

Corva resists the urge to toss her coffee in the kid’s face out of spite. There’s something else that has her interest instead. Or better stated, someone else. She looks up the ladder and sees the monkey hanging from the top rung. Zeke. He studies her with his strange, almost reptilian eyes. She returns the monkey’s intrusive stare with one of her own.

“Bule’s a shithole.” Jack’s voice scrapes against the awkward silence. “The ground sucks for growin’ anything. It’s a pain in the ass to get in or outta town. An’ the mineral shafts around us were picked dry ages ago. ’Bout the only thing this place has going for it is the fact that it’s a shithole. Neither side in the war wants to waste their time on this chunk of rock.”

Jack looks to Corva. She doesn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction, just keeps her focus on Zeke. He continues.

“Look, I got a little testy. But I got questions. An’ from the looks of things, you got some of your own. You’ll have more hunters gunnin’ for ya, but it’ll be a while—weeks, maybe more. You’ve been here four days and no one’s come knockin’. Damn near everyone who saw you in my bar is dead and word travels slow around these parts, ’specially with the limp you gave that Tretch guy. They’ll think you moved on ’cause, well, Bule’s a shithole. ’Sides, it ain’t like I showed you any loyalty in the fight.”

“You shot me.”

Corva keeps her eyes on Zeke. She can’t get a good read on his behavior. His facial expressions and the way that he looks at her; he’s not like any monkey she’s seen before. But he’s there, hanging upside down by a couple paws and his tail. He’s definitely a monkey.

Jack slurps his coffee. He’s clearly flustered. “What else was I supposed to do? You were chokin’ yourself out by trying to keep standing. If I hadn’t shot you, you wouldn’t be sittin’ all cozy on that there cot, that’s for sure.”

She nurses her own coffee, thinking, trying to remember. That whole block of time is too jumbled to make sense of it. He could tell her that she’d spent the whole time singing road songs and discussing the challenges in procuring high quality coffee beans. She wouldn’t be able to confirm or refute it. The only thing she’s sure of is that all of this has something to do with that monkey.

Jack doesn’t stop. “So I’ve got a deal for you. I’m opening the bar tomorrow. The place is beat all to hell and I’d say it’s mostly your fault. I’m gonna need help. At the same time, you’ve got this giant bounty on you. There’s probably no chance I’ll ever collect on it, what with the fact that you’ve nearly killed me in your sleep more than once. I couldn’t take you in if I wanted to. And just guessing, but I’d say it’s probably either the Sheeps or the Goats that’s after ya.”

He pauses with an expectant smile. He’s waiting for something. A question from her. He’s probably done this setup a thousand times. Say obtuse names that he’s made up, then wait for the question so he can brag about how clever he is. She’s not taking the bait. She just keeps staring at Zeke.

Jack clears his throat. “Sheeps an’ Goats, them’s my names for ’em. You probably call them the Karui and Umbrati or Light and Dark or whatever. I think Sheeps an’ Goats fits ’em better.”

They are clever names. However, there’s a war going on. A real war. Forces greater than humanity are vying for control, for ownership over this whole plane of existence. How sheltered is this boy—this whole town—that he’s able to trivialize it with cute names over coffee? Has she actually found such a place? Or is this naming thing just a coping mechanism he has? So many questions.

She decides not to react to his customized naming at all. Her view remains locked on the little monkey hanging from the ladder. If there are answers, that’s who has them. She hears Jack take another drink from his mug before starting anew.

“And you’ve got this … this thing with Zeke. He’s freaked out more than usual and I got a pretty good idea that you’ve got no clue what happens when you get near him.” He leans in and points to the bandaged wound over his eye. “I’ll give you a hint. This wasn’t here yesterday. An’ it didn’t get there by itself.”

Corva notes the bandage from the corner of her eye. It’s not large, but it’s already starting to soak through with blood from the wound beneath it. I caused that? More questions.

Jack takes a long draw of his coffee and puts the mug on the ground next to him. He slouches back against the wall, comfortable. Despite that, the demeanor in his face is a lot more businesslike. All of his attention is on Corva. She wonders if he’s practiced this whole thing. If she’s really been unconscious for as long as he says, he’s certainly had the time. He probably imagined that she’d be more responsive, that her focus wouldn’t be fixed on Zeke.

Jack clears his throat again.

“So here’s the deal. Although you did beat the hell outta my bar, you did save mine and Zeke’s asses. An’ although I did shoot you, I saved your ass, too. I figure we each owe each other a bit. So I’ll finish patching you up and help you lie low for a spell.”

“I’m doing alright.” She doesn’t look at him. The monkey is the only thing she cares about right now.

“You’re doing alright? Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Miss Attack-and-Black-Out. You have any idea how hard it was to get your zonked-out ass down that ladder without re-injuring you? Twice? ‘I’m doing alright.’ Please. You’re tough, but you ain’t that tough.”

Corva takes a moment to glance up from Zeke to the trapdoor above the ladder. How did he get her down here?

Jack sits upright, legs crossed, hands pressing down on his knees. She catches him take a quick glance up at Zeke before he starts again. “But you do heal up quick. No doubt. At this rate, you’ll probably be back up to spec in a day or two. So here’s the real pitch. Zeke and I will help you figure out what’s goin’ on between you two. See if we can figure out what it is, and if you can control it. Zeke seems to think it’s possible. For that, though, you’ve gotta work my bar; serve drinks, wash dishes, and show the occasional mean drunk out the door. How’s that sound?”

Corva tilts her head, eyes still trained on Zeke. If she’s really been here for four days, that’s longer than she’s stayed anywhere in a long time. She could risk a little longer. Besides, leaving wouldn’t get her any answers.

She takes another slow sip of her coffee and finally turns away from Zeke to face the young dealmaking jerk on the other side of the room.

“Are meals included with this deal of yours?”