There were places around the bus depot and train station where a person could rent a car for a few days, but even the places that rented junkers wanted things like an address and payment made through a bank card or a cash deposit that covered the full cost of the time the car would be used. A nice car would be better—less chance of breaking down considering how far he was driving—but a junker wouldn’t be reported stolen if it was an hour late being returned.

Not finding the right balance of reliable and nondescript, Jimmy took a taxi up to the university area, not wanting to waste time waiting for the next bus. The bookstore near the campus had maps of all the regions. He bought maps for the Northeast, High Northeast, and Southeast—the three regions within reach if you were flexible about where you crossed a regional border. There were bound to be operators of small boats plying their various trades along the coastline, hauling in fish and dropping off a passenger or two on the other side of an arbitrary line.

A backup plan in case he decided heading for Shikago wasn’t his best move.

The salesperson mentioned a couple of times that the maps weren’t totally accurate anymore—some places that were listed didn’t exist now or were no longer under human control. Could be hard to find gas if you left the toll road with its rest stops that were kept supplied with fuel. And you needed to figure out where to stop once the daylight began to fade. Couldn’t risk driving on any road after dark, especially the ones running through the wild country, and hotels and motels that were built conveniently close to the toll road tended to fill up fast.

Jimmy smiled at the girl and thanked her for her help, doing what CJ would have done. He explained that the maps were a hobby—he just liked studying places—but he did have business on Great Island and didn’t want to hire a taxi for a day. Did she have any suggestions?

He expected her to haul out a phone book and direct him to the rental places he already knew about. Instead, she pointed to the store’s large vestibule, where a bulletin board was conveniently located next to the pay phone. University students sometimes rented out their cars for a day to help with the costs of owning a car. Usually they rented to other students, but he seemed like a nice guy and a day trip to Great Island at this time of year wouldn’t put wear and tear on a car. He could check out the cars that were available today.

He thanked her again and went out to look at the notices tacked to the bulletin board. He found a few cars that sounded like they would be suitable—new enough that he wouldn’t need to worry about breaking down in the wild country but not so new that they would attract the attention of cops.

The first two numbers he called didn’t pan out. The cars were already rented for the day. But the third car was still available and the guy who owned it lived a few blocks from the bookstore.

Jimmy walked to the address he’d been given, and within minutes he’d handed a hundred dollars to a scruffy-looking young man, had confirmed that the registration and insurance card were in the glove box, and promised to replace whatever fuel he used before returning the car that evening.

He drove carefully, partly to reassure the fool who had just handed over a vehicle to a complete stranger and partly to avoid being pulled over for something stupid. Spotting a coffee shop, he parked and went in to study the maps.

He wanted to stay in the Northeast Region for the first stage of this new venture, so he needed to head south or east. Only one road out of Lakeside headed south besides the toll road, but that one road branched out like fingers spreading from a hand. The “thumb” continued south, following Lake Etu until it angled west toward Shikago. The “fingers” branched out, some heading toward the Southeast Region while the rest headed east toward the Finger Lakes. He could make it look like he was heading to Shikago—a destination CJ would expect him to choose—then take one of those branches heading toward the Finger Lakes, changing direction whenever two routes intersected in some town, always heading east, toward the coast. He would put enough distance between himself and Lakeside that CJ wouldn’t have a clue where to start looking. And since he wasn’t using a car from a rental place, the cops couldn’t track him that way.

Jimmy folded up the maps, finished his coffee, and left the coffee shop smiling. Once he had the asset away from Lakeside, he would know which roads to use to elude the cops and the freaks.

He drove back to the neighborhood around the Courtyard. Time to put the last part of his plan into motion.

• • •

“Playdate?”

Setting aside the book order he was trying to fill for one of the terra indigene settlements, Simon glanced at Vlad, who shrugged. Then he focused on Eve Denby, who had combined ordinary words in a way that made no sense. “Humans designate a time for puppies to play?”

No wonder humans were all a bit peculiar. Puppies played. A lot. That’s how they learned much of what they needed to know about the world. They played with puppies their own age. They played with juveniles. They played with adults. They played with sticks and pinecones and just about anything they could pick up that interested them.

“Robert and Sam want to play a board game,” Eve said. “A game played on a board.” Using two fingers, she traced a square on the counter.

“We know about board games,” Simon grumbled. Okay, so the terra indigene might not play the game according to the rules printed on the box or in a way humans would understand, but they had some of those games shelved in their various social rooms.