The wound had stopped bleeding, mostly, dark blood caked into Ziggy’s shirt. She eased up the cuff to take a better look, closed one eye as the fabric tugged on the dried blood.

RJ got up and sat beside her. “Let me.” Then she opened her bag and pulled out a bottle of water. Took a towel hanging in their train compartment and wetted the wound, catching the water.

“How did you know —“

“I saw the gun—or what I thought might be the gun—just a spark of light through the window, but, instincts.”

RJ loosened the shirt and rolled it up. The wound was jagged, at least a thumb’s depth and width. It needed stitches—maybe six or ten of them. “We should have grabbed first aid supplies —“

“I have superglue in my pack.”

RJ raised an eyebrow.

“It’s better than stitches. And besides—everything was closed. We’re lucky we got a train.”

Ziggy had led them right to the train station, scoured the board and bought tickets on the only outgoing train—to Vienna, Austria.

“Where are we going? Just anywhere?”

Ziggy had zipped open the front pouch of her pack and pulled out a used bottle of superglue.

“Seriously.”

“Just pinch the edges together and seal it. It’ll heal. And no, not anywhere. We’re going to my home. It’s safe.”

RJ opened the container, set the top on the table between the seats, and then pinched together the wound, starting at one end. She applied the glue as she went, sealing it shut.

“We need antibiotics or something.”

“I’ll be fine.” She pulled out a roll of duct tape. “Bandage.”

“You’re just like my father,” RJ said as she sealed the wound. “He’d be out in the field, get cut by barbed wire or nicked by a cow’s horn and he’d pull out the duct tape.”

“You grew up on a farm?”

“Ranch. In Montana.” She smoothed the tape over Ziggy’s wound. “You?”

“Italy. On a vineyard near a little town outside Florence called Lucca.”

“You were raised on a vineyard?”

“Not so different from a ranch—a life dependent on the weather, the soil, hard work.” She leaned back on the seat and closed her eyes. “I miss it.”

A beat, and Ziggy opened her eyes. “Don’t you miss home?”

“I…I miss my family, sometimes, but no. I couldn’t wait to leave the ranch. Do something big with my life. I joined the CIA out of college and became an analyst.”

“But you wanted to be a spy.” Ziggy’s mouth tweaked up one side.

RJ lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. I guess so.”

“And now?”

RJ moved back over to her seat. Glanced at Hana. She had leaned against the wall, her braids a mess. RJ should have grabbed that sandwich for her. Now, she reached into her bag and found an apple she picked up at the airport.