But if Gus came close to the truth, was she bound to lie in defense of that secrecy? Or was it ethical to let him prevail, so long as she never specifically confirmed his accuracy?

“So we figure the whole state will flood out, maybe in a few days, and we’re headed for the mountains,” Gus said, satisfied. “We’ve got the Whole Earth catalogue and extra gasoline, a fifty-gallon reserve tank we won’t touch until we have to. And food.”

“Food?” she said eagerly.

“Hey yeah, you’re hungry! Here.” Gus got up and stepped past her to the kitchenette. He got a loaf of bread and opened the refrigerator. “Mostly jars of stuff—we figured it would keep better, because we won’t always have current for the fridge. And we didn’t have too much money. Bean or marmalade?”

“What?”

“Your sandwich. We have other stuff, but it isn’t open yet. Don’t want to waste anything.”

“Oh.” She got up, feeling her fatigue now that she had had a chance to rest. “I’ll do it.”

Gus shrugged and turned over the makings. She made herself one of each.

“So it’s like this,” Gus said as she munched sandwiches that hunger made delicious and washed them down with a glass of milk. “Maybe the whole nation will flood out, with only a few islands where the mountain tops are. No one will be left, except us. We don’t have an ark, so we’ll have to use this bus. And we’ll save civilization. Like Noah.”

Zena had to laugh, explosively. Fatigue and relief had abated her inhibitions. Precious crumbs of bean sandwich sprayed out of her mouth in most unladylike fashion, embarrassing her. “Noah!”