Page 32 of Double Take

“Should we lock the door?” she asked as they stepped onto the porch.

“It wasn’t locked when we found it.”

“Right. And maybe we’re not the only ones to use this as a way station.”

“It came in handy for us.” He surveyed the landscape. Weeds cluttered the overgrown garden, the shrubs in need of pruning. Beyond the gate, the countryside appeared lush and green, the freshness of rain tinging the air. Hills, daunting in the dark, appeared much more manageable.

“The vehicle is…thataway?” She pointed in the wrong direction.

“If memory serves, it’s this way.” He pointed to the opposite rise.

She grinned. “You must have been a Boy Scout,” she teased and then sobered. “You weren’t, were you? You couldn’t have been.”

“No.” Scouting was for kids. He’d never been a child. Again, the reminder that he was a 3-D copy stuck like a knife in his gut. “But I received ranger training so I could navigate through unfamiliar terrain. I have a better sense of direction than Hammond.” He paused then attempted a joke. “And I’m better looking, too.”

“You’re better than Mark in all respects,” she said. “Your expressions are different, transformative. He was an asshole, and it showed on his face.”

Yet she’d mistaken him for Hammond when he’d shown up at her cottage. But how could he blame her? Hewasthe man’s genetic double. He shoved his insecurity into a dark closet and slammed the door.

They set out, tromping across wet, spongy ground. Reaching the crest of the hill, they peered down into the draw at the vehicle on its roof.

Faith winced. “It took a beating.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks. We can’t know for sure until we get closer. Careful, it’s slippery going down,” he warned and took her hand.

At the bottom of the hill, it wasn’t any more reassuring. Roof, fenders, and hood had crumpled like paper. The windshield had been shattered, the doors dented—and that was just the body damage.

“Dammit!” She kicked the vehicle.

The door on the far side hung open—he’d forced his way out after the crash. Everything inside appeared topsy-turvy. “You wait here. There’s broken glass. I’ll find the tech-tab.”

“In a brown tote.”

He squeezed inside. It took a while to find the bag, which had gotten wedged between the other door and the seat. “Got it!” He passed her the purse. “I’ll check on your pottery.”

He squeezed halfway under the seats to take a look. Wooden crates lay every which way, tops off, contents scattered, broken pottery everywhere.

“Well?” she called.

“It doesn’t look good.”

“I’m coming in,” she said. “I want to see.”

He’d prefer she remain outside, but this was her livelihood. “Okay. Be careful.”

Moments later, she wiggled in beside him. “Oh no.” She picked up a broken plate.

“Some pieces are still good.” He pointed to a couple of intact coffee cups. “Let’s separate the good from the broken, assess what we have. Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“I left my bag outside. I haven’t checked the tech-tab. This vehicle isn’t going anywhere without a tow. Let me get a rescue in the works, and then I’ll sort.”

“I’ll start while you do that,” he said.

“Back in a few.” She scooted out of the vehicle.

Chapter Twelve

Faith had to hike halfway up the hill before she could get a weak signal on the tech-tab. Much as she preferred Terra Nova’s slower, relaxed, bucolic environment to Earth’s frenetic metropolis, she did miss the communication system.

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