I feigned nonchalance as I tracked the flight path of the something-teenth Border Patrol Drone to show up less than an hour into our trip back.

  My tabs were up to date. My license plate was valid. Fake, yes. But still valid. It took some work to pull that off, but it was obviously worth the trouble. Any of these drones probably would’ve killed us immediately if they saw what we had onboard.

  But we should’ve looked for all the world like a normal civilian boat doing normal civilian things in a normal civilian path down the countryside.

  The source of my mounting anxiety was, as always, that pesky ‘should’ve’. None of these drones ‘should’ve’ looked far enough into us to find anything suspicious. Even if they did, nothing ‘should’ve’ stood out. None of which stopped my heart from practically pounding out of my chest every time one of their headings altered to anything remotely resembling an approach.

  Outwardly, my anxiety tended to manifest in a particularly brooding sort of silence.

  Steph responded to her own anxiety quite differently. “FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING DRONES!!!”

  At least her anger was directed away from me this time. That was handy since my particular method of distraction had drawn her ire more than once.

  To that effect, I made a show of taking in the sights as Steph maneuvered my boat down one of the many new rivers across the massive delta spanning most of what used to be Philadelphia.

  That side was… starboard? Or was it ‘port’? Screw it.

  The shore to the boat’s left was filled with trees and bathed in sunlight, while the right was totally cast in shadow as the narrow tree line quickly extended into a cliff facing the river.

  Putting in a bit of mental effort, I managed to disassociate the scene from the sour mood I’d come by honestly thanks to being incurably wet and cold. I’d thought clothes dried faster than this…

  At least it helped that this was, in fact, an utterly beautiful view. It even painted a poetic sort of dichotomy between the two opposing sides of my newly-damaged boat.

  With a 90% resigned and 10% bitter sigh, I took out my phone and launched the facebook I used for daytime outdoor shots.

  Crazy how that was an actual service once. To me, it’d always just been the word for… They used to call them ‘social medias’, right?

  Trying to distract myself in more ways than one, I snapped some photos. Hm… Not exactly my best work. Must’ve been the angle…

  I repositioned so that the boat’s broken nose was directly in the middle of the river’s opposite sides in my camera facebook’s periphery.

  As I contemplated the nonsensical nature of the public unconscious, I snapped some more pictures.

  They immediately tried to upload themselves, but inevitably failed, ready to try again once I got back in network range.

  Coming up with even more distracting photo ideas, I changed perspectives after each shot. I couldn’t remember ever coming across a scene like this. Not even going the other way down the same river earlier today. Amazing the difference good lighting could make. I had to make the most of it…

  After she’d had more than enough of that, Steph finally broke the silence. “Jason, you’re giving me a migraine. Can you stop?”

  Well that wasn’t what I’d been waiting for at all…

  Determined to ignore any such wrong questions, I took some more pictures.

  Steph tried a different tact, apparently catching onto my bullshit. “So what was in that building, anyway? Better be good for the bag to be so heavy.”

  That was more like it… Still, I tried to feign disinterest. “Or just some scrap metal.”

  “Oooh…” Her voice was suddenly sweet. Scarily so. “Is that what I just fucked up my leg for? Lunch money? That’s not what you’re telling me right now. I know because you’re not suicidal.”

  With a jerk of the boat’s wheel, she smiled beatifically as she watched me stumble to maintain balance. “Right?”

  Equilibrium reestablished, I glanced around at her face and quickly reassessed the series of teasing hints I’d planned for when she finally mentioned the bag. “Well, there was no leftover copper wire like we were promised. Must’ve been bad info.”

  I shrugged. “Or just outdated. I’ll tell Mikey when we get back. Might be able to get a little refund since that’s what he sold us the building on.” Fat chance of that…

  It took substantial effort in that moment not to roll my eyes.

  But far from angry, Steph sounded only resigned at the very news she’d apparently feared. “Well fuck… He’s not that bad, you know. Look, when we get back, I’ll talk to him and if nothi-”

  Well, this was certainly an unprofitable conversation topic. Deflection time…

  I raised my voice to a register above her own. “Speaking of Mikey though, I did find something else. A useful little gadget you might’ve heard of..?”

  She glared at me then, seeming to catch on that was leading her by the nose to a specific destination before rolling both her eyes and left wrist in a way that distinctly suggested I get on with it.

  I silently lamented how predictable I’d been getting. It’d been harder and harder lately to trick her into following my pre-planned scripts. At least she was learning.

  To the point then… “Sooo, it looks like someone set up a panic room with a hidden entrance in their office before everything went to hell.”

  No reaction from Steph.

  “A long term panic room. No expense spared…”

  Really? She had nothing?

  Okay, bigger hint… “And then they never got to use it.”

  Her eyes finally went wide at that. “Holy SHIT.”

  She immediately shut the boat off, looking at me with a more deadpan, serious expression than I honestly thought she was capable of. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

  Finally letting out the grin I’d been suppressing, I shook my head.

  All the blood seemed to leave Steph’s face at once. Then she somehow managed to both robotically and sloppily maneuver the boat to a full stop along the river’s right side.

  The instant she was no longer needed to babysit its trajectory, she darted over to the bag.

  She started to unzip it with shaking hands.

  The zipper snagged. “Fuck.”

  Wrenching it free, it snagged again further down. “Fuck!”

  It snagged a third time after she’d opened it most of the way.

  That was apparently good enough for her to start rummaging through the hard waterproof bag. Inside, she found a single, roughly bag-sized bundle of towels.

  Folding back the towels, Steph’s shocked, terrified excitement made the whole mess of a day worth it.

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Is… Is this a BS?”

  Steph tried to lift the thing, but it didn’t budge. Giving up on that, she resolved to peel back the entire bag like an onion, towels and all. Exactly like that, in fact. It even made her eyes water.

  Soon, she’d peeled enough to reveal a serial number. “Seven, three… One.”

  She ran her hand tentatively over the smooth plastic casing as though in doubt that it was real. “Three digits… It’s an original?”

  She cupped her hands around her mouth like she was afraid to know the answer. “Did you test it?”

  I shrugged. “Haven’t had a chance. If you can find a place to plug it in, go ahead.”

  Her hands lowered.

  Just like that, she was back to looking at me like I was stupid. “An original doesn’t use electricity, dumbass.”

  “So what, pray-tell, does it run on? Gas?”

  Looking distinctly bemused, she shook her head. “Why do you think they’re so valuable?” She sounded like she was chastising me for not doing my second-grade history homework.

  I couldn’t help getting a little defensive. “Because…”

  I mean what else did you need? “Turning garbage into food is useful.”

  How could you argue that?

  She smiled wider than I would’ve liked. “Because it’s free, Jason. Direct matter conversion. For Free. No energy cost. Ever. This thing is worth billions.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Despite the rocking boat, I froze in place. “That much?”

  “More. In theory, a hell of a lot more. But good luck finding a buyer worth anywhere near that thing’s market value.”

  “Oh my god…” I mean I’d known it was valuable. But this changed everything. “Do you know how to use it?”

  Steph nodded.

  I looked around for something to test with. But all I could find were the remnants of our lunch.

  Shrugging, I handed the trash over.

  Steph took my offering with one hand as she pressed a few buttons with the other.

  A hidden hatch covering the entire front of the sleek device audibly decompressed as it opened for the first time, possibly ever.

  Steph reverently, yet unceremoniously tried to stuff the bag of trash inside.

  It didn’t fit.

  Before I could think to stop her, she jammed it in.

  Then she looked up at my clearly panicked expression with an equal level of only partially sarcastic scorn. “Relax, Mom. Originals are practically unbreakable.”

  Closing it, she pressed a few more buttons, paused, even more buttons, and then moved to some sort of touchscreen menu that flared to life over the hatch that just closed. She messed with it for what felt like an hour, but probably wasn’t even a minute. Finally, with a flourish, Steph pressed one final button.

  Nothing happened.

  Looking back down, she belatedly noticed the confirmation screen. “Fuckin…”

  With that, she smashed her finger far too hard for my liking into that same final button.

  But the flimsy-looking device didn’t crunch. It didn’t warp. It didn’t do any of the self-destructive things I was half-sure would happen the instant she messed with it. Instead, it just kind of sat there. Totally inert.

  The moment stretched long enough to where I was afraid she’d broken it anyway.

  But most of a minute later, the machine blazed with a blinding orange light. The light itself didn’t seem to actually have a source across the mostly featureless matte material. But that didn’t seem to deter it from enveloping the device in a warm, yet heatless aura.

  The glowing lasted a few tense seconds where I was afraid she’d actually made it explosive instead of just broken. But then the glowing stopped as the hatch unceremoniously popped back open.

  I gaped at the result.

  It was some kind of meat. That much was clear. But only thanks to pattern recognition. The effect was really more of an uncanny valley sort of deja-vu rather than me actually being sure of anything.

  Really, I’d never seen anything like it. At first, I thought it was all of a solid-pink. But looking closer, I could see tiny winding lines of white and darker pink intermingling in a complex pattern. Almost like cobwebs, only smaller. Was it even edible?

  Steph ran a trembling finger along the wet mess of pink and white.

  Practically spasming it over to her lips, she licked that finger clean of whatever detritus she’d managed to scrape off. Then she limply dropped it.

  A few seconds of silence passed before she gasped out a reverent whisper. “A-5 Wagyu…”

  Steph sat completely still after that before suddenly going from zero to quick as I’d ever seen her move. She yanked the slop out of the machine, slammed the hatch, re-wrapped the towels, and zipped up the bag. She then practically vaulted over to the boat’s kitchenette, cradling the wet glob like a crazy lady with a discarded abortion. Her nonstop muttering certainly didn’t help the image.

  Licking it a few more times, she finally spoke. “It is. Holy shit, you found a BS Matter Converter? Holy shit, we’ll never go hungry again. Holy shit, we’re rich! Yeah, never mind being famous. The two of us are set for fucking life!”

  Lifting a sticky hand past her face, Steph laughed softly into her wrist.

  “Three.”

  Steph bristled. “…What?”

  “Never mind. Tell you later. I’ll be splitting my take. Yours is unaffected. You’re still set for life. And then some.”

  I started laughing too. “We all are.”

  Then I remembered something. “What’s ‘wagg-you’, by the way? Is it poisonous?”

  With a visible struggle, Steph forcibly re-directed her train of thought to how she could best make fun of me. “Oh, it is. It’s a bioweapon, actually. If you ge-”

  As soon as I heard ‘bioweapon’, I saw where this was going and took my phone back out. “Never mind, I’ll google it…”

  Typing ‘W’-‘A’-‘G’-‘G’-‘Y’-‘O’-‘U’ into my phone’s internet facebook, I stared at it, waiting for the results. But none came. Oh right…

  I could only grumble in vague dissatisfaction with post-Collapse network ranges. “Nevermind. Still no signal…”

  Pocketing my phone again, I turned back to her. “So, how ’bout you pretend not to be a bitch for a second and answer my question about the lottery I just won you? It’s food, right? For humans?”

  Steph snorted in her own vague dissatisfaction with my boat. “Yeah, and if your shitty stove would turn on… Why isn’t it even warm yet? Wait a fucking-”

  She slumped. “There’s no gas, is there?”

  I made a point of snorting right back. Admittedly, I may have put a little too much mustard on it. “Of course not. With the fuel this thing takes?”

  I masked an actual need to clear my throat by also pointedly eyeing its brand new dent. “Not trying to make it MORE explosive over here…”

  “Then why’d you ask if the BS ran on gas?”

  I shrugged. “Just the first thing I thought of. We’ll be back in a few hours, anyway. Then we can cook the slop-mess you’re so excited over. Or make more I guess?”

  I gestured to the wet slab of whatever-it-was. “That’s probably not gonna keep, right?”

  Steph turned around and sat with her back against the inoperable stove. “Oh.”

  Looking down at the thing, Steph gulped, clearly steeling herself for something. “Well, I’m not waiting that long.”

  She took a small, experimental bite of the slimy pink-white mass.

  After an untold number of confusing expressions rapidly entered and left her face as she chewed, Steph slumped more and more until she was fully sprawled on the cabin floor.

  Head buried in her arms, she broke into more soft laughter. “Oh my god.”

  Before long, it was less of a laugh and more of a sob. “We’re saved…”

  Soon, she was barely audible over the sniffling. “We’re really…”

  She paused, going totally silent and still as her eyes lifted to mine.

  Cheeks still red with tears, those same wet eyes drilled directly into mine with the intensity of an angry god. “And You Pushed It Off A FUCKING BUILDING???”

  Sensing danger, my instincts overpowered my indignance as I went on the defensive. “Okay look. The bag is waterproof. Towels were there to cushion it from any part of the fall not slowed by the water. From the looks of your slimy meat wad, they did their job. So please don’t rip my head off about it.”

  Steph seemed to calm a bit, but only insofar as she might’ve thought better of her actions while still ripping my head off. Well now she was just being ridiculous. Hadn’t she just said the thing was indestructible?

  Indignance finally regained some subconscious ground in its battle with my instincts. “Alright, oh God of Hindsight. How would you have done better?”

  In answer, she looked at me like I was too dumb to feed myself. And it only escalated from there, quickly getting to the point where she’d have to pick a disability to pretend I had in order to keep it going.

  Thankfully, she instead opted to speak. “I would’ve taped up a bunch of curtains or some shit to make a parachute.”

  I was taken aback at that. Not the worst plan, actually.

  I’d even thought of it myself before I’d realized the fatal flaw. “And if there was a sudden gust in that wind tunnel of a dead city? It could carry the bag through a window on its way down.”

  “Obviously, I’d go get-”

  “Or slam it into the side of another building.”

  She took on a distinctly annoyed cast. “Well you can just-”

  “Or make it land on you trying to film the whole thing from below. Or me, I guess, if it’s you dropping it. Or the boat. Even with a parachute, something that heavy and fast could easily sink our ride home.”

  Steph just looked exasperated now. “Well, obviously you’ve got this whole speech planned so go ahead and get it out of your-”

  “And if the bag did go through a window, the water damage a skyscraper gets from a half century of flooding is nothing to play with.” I did, in fact, have this whole speech planned. But damn it, I had a point…

  So I paused for a moment, awaiting her reply.

  Steph folded her arms, clearly catching on to my also-planned interruptions. “Fuck you.”

  Well, fine. Through to the end, then… “Remember the weeks of recon Mikey’s people did to find stable skyscrapers? He found ten, Steph. Ten buildings in the whole city that weren’t on the brink of collapse. We bought the location of one. Are you really willing to bet your life that of the 10,000-or-so left standing in that city, one of the other nine safe ones just happened to be across the street?”

  Steph seemed calm again by the end of my diatribe. Calm, but looking a lot like the long-suffering mother of a particularly talkative child. “Okay, Jason. I get it. You’re right. I’m the asshole here. You’ve made that very clear. I’m sorry. Stop yelling at me now, okay?”

  I deflated. “You know, you really take all the fun out of being victimized by your screaming rants.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you want a laxative?”

  Okay, now I’m lost. “…Wha-”

  “Cause that’s some tough shit!”

  “Buuh, dumm, tiss…” I tried to say it slow and monotone enough to where it sounded like I was calling attendance in detention at a high school for cavemen.

  Where did that image come from? I must be more tired than I thought…

  I considered that for a moment.

  After further consideration, I wholeheartedly agreed with my initial assessment.

  As such, I failed to fight back a yawn. “Imma take a nap.”

  Without further ado, I set my phone to silent and put it with my other, still-wet stuff on the cabin shelf. “Wake me once we enter Virginia again, okay?”

  “K.” Eyeing the bag with our fortune inside, Steph headed back out to start the boat. She didn’t need my help getting back at this point. We were well out of the restricted area by now, so the chances of an ambush were slim-to-none.

  She called over to me just before revving the engine back to life. “Remember to really teach those kids a lesson. They could be Cave-President someday.”

  Fully awake, I bolted back out of the cabin to glare at her. “Wait, WHAT???”

  “What?”

  “How did you know what I was thinking? That quip was way too specific for a coincidence.”

  She just stared me down in stony bewilderment. Like an animal at the zoo.

  At least it was a better escalation than pretending I was disabled…

  “Jason, you need to learn proper sarcasm.” Steph was back to her long-suffering mom voice. “You know, you even pull off some great lines sometimes…”

  She looked contemplative. “Even if I’m never sure when you’re doing it on purpose. But you do the same shit every time you don’t have a good comeback for me making fun of you. I even know you call it your ‘Caveman Detention Teacher’ voice.”

  Deflating once more, my tiredness was only exacerbated as the adrenaline left my system and I remembered how much the two ill-mannered girls in my life had in common. Oh Christ, I’d have to introduce them now, wouldn’t I? How could that be the best-case scenario for today? It wasn’t fair…

  My whole body felt about twice as heavy as when I’d tried to lift that bag up on my own.

  Without another word, I turned around.

  Eyes already closing, I shambled into the cabin and collapsed face-first onto the boat’s lone cot with an audible thump.

  As soon as I was no longer supporting my own weight, I felt a wave of contented peace flow over me. We’d really done it… After more risks than I cared to count, we’d done it. We’d won some. Lost more. But today’s jackpot overshadowed it all.

  She was really going to be safe. She could finally live up to her potential. And she wouldn’t ever be in any real danger. I made it in time…

  That thought front and center, I relaxed into the widest grin I can remember wearing.

  “GODDAMN FUCKING DRONES!!!”

  Soon, even thoughts of monetary relief were gone.

  Thinking of little more than the gentle rocking of the boat, the soft fluctuations of its engine, and Steph screaming at something other than me, I slid into a deep, contented sleep.