Roy gave up trying to find a corkscrew. He pointed at the bottle of wine. “Here you go, Mr. Macaw. You’re the inventor. Invent something to open this.”

Tupper reached into his pocket and pulled out a red Swiss Army knife. He opened the corkscrew attachment, twisted it in, and expertly pulled out the cork. “There.” He unwound the cork and put the knife back in his pocket.

Tupper was far more capable than he let on, but then again, he was from Maine. Watching him got Roy thinking about the gadgets they’d have up on Mars. Perhaps his urine-sanitizing water fountains wouldn’t serve fresh drinking water exclusively. They could serve all sorts of other beverages as well. Wine would survive just fine on the long journey from Earth to Mars. Grapes might like to grow there. Potatoes meant vodka. If the urine sanitizers malfunctioned, alcohol might be the only safe thing to drink. The scientists would all become mad raving drunks. Chaos would ensue. And then the restocking capsule would arrive with the baddie inside. Roy picked up his glass and finished off his pint. He hadn’t brought his laptop with him.

Peaches reached for the wine and poured Mandy Marzulli an enormous glass.

“My husband used to carry a Swiss Army knife in his pocket in college. I think he thought it would attract girls.” She searched the crowd for Mandy and found her, hugged tight to Stuart’s side, talking to a petite, well-groomed blond woman in her fifties wearing an expensive-looking trench coat and carrying a huge Macy’s shopping bag.

Roy followed her gaze. “That’s my wife, Wendy,” he said. “She came straight from work.”

Behind them, Peaches spotted Dr. Conway, dressed immaculately in a crisp white shirt and dark denim jeans, doing tequila shots in the back of the bar with a group of young moms she sort of recognized from the school.

“Whoa,” Peaches breathed. “This is weird. It’s like all the pieces in the jigsaw puzzle of my life are showing up tonight. Roy, come introduce me to Wendy. Tupper, you’re in charge here.”

“Marvelous,” Tupper moaned, his face sagging.

Down in the basement, Elizabeth oozed and jiggled. Her scummy, Saran Wrapped surface sweated out a fishy gray mucous that caught the light with a waxy sheen. The consistency was perfect.

Chapter 15