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After his "conversation" with the Dark Dragon and Mia's subsequent tongue-lashing, Autor found himself chastened and in need of a bracing cup of tea. He picks up a face mask for protection from the flu and soldiers out to see if his worries about Oswin and Rae being infected are well-founded.

Catch him out and about in the main bar.

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"What do I do if it happens?" Bonnie asks.

She doesn't appear to be entirely terrified, but she is pulling a rather stretched face.

Oh, this is not how Autor expected this introduction to go.

"Depends on the disaster," he says, holding his hands up, palms out. "In the case of the zombies, there were a lot of volunteers to put them down--a great many people here are heavily armed or have special powers. But you don't need to worry too much. Really."

Bonnie watches him for a moment. He sure looks like someone telling the truth.

"Better get my tenth graders to build some more substantial catapults this year." she says at last, shaking her head.

Autor snorts, picking up his teacup to hide his smile in it. "You can if you like, though I imagine they'd be bulky to carry around in case of the rare disaster," he says. "Should you ever get injured, we do have an infirmary here, too, staffed voluntarily. It's over there."

"I dunno, you tell a teenager to build something to destroy their opponant's fort and you'd be surprised how dangerous they can make it." Bonnie muses.

She looks over towards the infirmary, and nods.

"I'll bear that in mind if I ever lose another toe."

The amused twist to Autor's lips should inform Bonnie that he's thinking on just such a venture.

Her comment, however, jolts him out of thought. "Another toe? What happened to the first one you lost?"

"One of my boys accidentally ran over the edge of my foot when we tried to test out a motorcycle we just repaired. It got crushed real bad." She shakes her head. "Lucky I only lost one toe to be honest. I think Bill was more shocked than I was, he went a real nasty colour."

Autor winces, and then nods. "Is Bill your husband, then?"

Bonnie nods.

She doesn't correct to 'was'. Far as she's concerned, Bill will be alive in her heart as long as she lives.
If you don't think of the house as empty, and you don't complain, you'll get through.

"Big like an ox, soft like a kitten." she says, fondly. "We were always safe out on the road with him being so big, nobody would bother us."

Autor tilts his head. "Are the roads particularly dangerous where you are?"

"If we came across a rival biker gang, it could be."

"Biker gang?" he asks, furrowing his brow. "Oh, you mean the motorcycle riders? Interesting. I didn't know that people formed cadres based around their bikes. Are there a great many of these motorcycle rider gangs?"

"Oh sure, when I was young we spent all out weekends out with the gang. But as we got older, we all got jobs, and kids and such."

"What would you do with said gang?" Autor says, blinking at her. "Find rival gangs and beat on them?"

"Oh goodness no, some of the gangs did but we just travelled for the company." Bonnie says. "If we got in trouble we'd fight our corner, mind."

She smiles. "We would camp out under the stars, by the fire, tell stories, sing... drink a little too much at times." she laughs.

Autor tilts his head. "Didn't any of you have school? How did you make ends meet?"

"Oh this was just after high school." Bonnie says. "My father was an engineer too, he took Bill on as an apprentice. Eventually, he got a job in California in a depot, and we moved there. We biked most weekends before the boys came along, after that now and again."

"And when you 'biked' you wouldn't really go anywhere, you'd just go out riding around?" he asks, blinking again. "I bet you'd really like flying."

"Well, we travelled to all sorts of places, sometimes planned and sometimes not." Bonnie says.

"And I've never flown, but I'd like that."

"I doubt you've ever flown on a magic carpet, either," he says, tapping his chin through the mask. He eyes her rather seriously, and then pulls a small cloth out of his pocket. "Want to?"

Bonnie blinks at it, in astonishment.

"I would." she says.

"But if I'm going to be taking rides with a young man, I better know your name at least, or folks will talk."

How funny, the writer thinks. She caught on.

"I am Autor. Effugium," he says, and the carpet expands out from all four corners to end up taller than he is.

"Nice to meet you Autor."

Her eyes widen slightly at the carpet.

"I ain't gonna fall off am I? Looks a little floppy."

"No," Autor says, and straightens the carpet out on the air such that it floats solidly at about waist-level. "Here, give me your hand. I'll have to attune you to it."

Bonnie reaches out her hand. An observant fellow like Autor will likely notice that it's a very calloused hand, of someone who clearly does a lot of manual work.
I can show you the world
Shining, shimmering, splendid
"Will it fit through the back door?"