burner, a water pump, a sink, and a table covered with glass bottles and containers.
A narrow bunk had a complete engine resting on the patchwork coverlet. A side table was piled with yellowed pages out of old manuals. A prospector could spend his entire life searching and never find half this stuff. He couldnât see the entire room from where he was, but he spotted part of someoneâs back. He moved to get a better look.
A teenage girl crouched over his book like a vulture.
He charged around to the door and flung it open. âGive me back my book!â
The girl blinked up at him. She didnât move to defend herself, or even to protect the book. âHi,â she said cheerfully. âDo you know how to read this?â
Ross breathed hard, trying to contain his anger. âItâs mine.â
âI know.â She patted the air between them, as if that would make everything okay. âI know! Iâm not stealing. Iâm only looking. I meant to return it before you noticed it was gone. My father didnât think youâd wake up till halfway through tomorrow.â
âWho else knows about it?â he demanded.
The abacus and slide rule on the girlâs belt rattled as she clutched the book. âNo one! Not even Dad.â He reached for it. She didnât let go but turned it around so they both could see it. âHere, check this out.â It was open to a diagram that had also intrigued him, of a crossbow that shot six arrows at once.
His anger died away. She seemed excited but not greedy. He waited.
She smiled back from a round face framed by short black hair. Friendly brown eyes examined him from behind square wire-rimmed glasses. âIsnât it wonderful? I wish I knew how to read that script. Can you?â
The back of his neck itched with embarrassment. Obviously she could read every scrap of paper in the room. No way would he admit that he couldnât.
Instead, he changed the subject. âAre you a prospector too? It looks like thereâs great pickings around here.â He paused. âUh, where is âhereâ?â
âLas Anclas. The last town before you hit the ocean.â
âOh, what the maps call Worldâs End.â
âWell, Iâm the chief mechanic of Worldâs End.â She smiled proudly. âBut really, Iâm an engineer.â
Usually Ross told little about himself. It was safer that way, and most people didnât care. But heâd never met an engineer his age, and the urge to talk to her was irresistible. He tapped the book. âI almost got killed by people trying to get this thing. Do you know what it is?â
âNot exactly, but Iâd love to find out. Do you know how rare it is to find a complete book with diagrams?â
âYeah. Iâm a prospector.â
âI know! I saw your tools.â She sighed with envy. âYou must see cool stuff all the time.â
âNot really. A good find is always exciting.â Ross indicated the engine on the bed. âLike that. Thatâs complete, isnât it? Iâve never seen one in such good shape.â
The girl beamed. âYou noticed!â
âItâs a treasure. Does it work?â
âIt will when Iâm done with it,â she assured him, giving the engine a familiar pat. âThat is, if I can find the right kind of fuel.â She picked up a yellowed page from the table. âHereâs part of the schematics. Have you ever seen another manual for internal combustion engines? Or even a piece of one?â
Ross tried to sound out the first few letters, but hundreds and hundreds of letters followed those. It was hopeless. He raised his eyes to find her watching. She knew what heâd been doing. His face heated up. But she didnât mock him, or even give him a look like she thought he was stupid.
âMy nameâs Mia Lee,â she said. âWhatâs yours?â
âRoss Juarez. Do