“I can think of something,” she said softly.
Harvey found his voice. “If it isn’t sex, you’d better tell me now.”
She said nothing. He slid toward her and pulled her against him. Things crunched and crackled; not one of the dozen pockets in that jacket was empty. She chuckled and took it off while he doffed his own jacket with its own lumpy pockets.
Then the terror of the day and the danger of tomorrow, the slow, agonizing death of a world and the coming end of the Stronghold, could be forgotten in the frantic importance of each other. The passenger foot-well grew cluttered with clothing until Harvey broke off and dumped the whole armful behind the steering wheel. The passenger seat wasn’t shaped for this, but they coupled with care and ingenuity, and maintained the position afterward: he half reclining in the passenger seat, she kneeling before him, her face above his. Their breath fell each on the other’s cheek.
“I’m glad you thought of something,” he said presently. (He couldn’t say he loved her.)
“Ever screwed in a car before?”
He thought back. “Sure. I was more limber then.”
“I never did.”
“Well, generally you use the back seat, but…”
“The back seat’s covered with broken glass,” Marie finished, and they felt each other’s tension as they remembered: a .50-caliber bullet, glass showering everywhere, Marie brushing the tiny splinters off him while he drove. But there was a way to forget.
And again, later, there was a way to forget, the same way repeated, with the same frantic urgency. They were not drawn to each other, he thought; they were thrust against each other in their fear of what was outside them. They made love with their ears cocked for gunfire; but they made love. Even when it’s bad, it’s good.
Harvey woke before dawn. He was covered with the blanket from the back seat, but he couldn’t remember getting it. He lay awake, not moving, his thoughts confused.
“Hi,” Marie said softly.
“Hi yourself. I thought you’d be asleep.”
“Not for a while. You get some rest.”
Harvey tried. But there were twinges from muscles he’d overused last night, and twinges from his conscience, which apparently hadn’t been informed that he was a widower whose new girl had dropped him for an astronaut. To hell with that. But he still wasn’t sleeping. “Oh, well,” he said, and sat up. “We seem to have survived the night.”
“I didn’t work you that hard.”
There might have been something false in his own laugh, or… she’d known him a long time. She turned toward him in the dark. “You’re not worried about Gordie, are you? That’s all over. He’s got his new girl, and it doesn’t need a judge to say a marriage is over. We didn’t really need one before.”
Harvey hadn’t been thinking of Gordie. “What will you do now?” he asked. “When this is over? If?”
She laughed. “I won’t stay a cook. But thank you for bringing me to this valley. It’s been much better than anything I could have found for myself.” She was quiet for a moment, and they heard a sound outside: an owl, and the squeal of the rabbit it had caught. “It’s a man’s world now,” Marie said. “So I guess I’ll just have to marry an important one. I’ve always been a status-conscious bitch, and I don’t see any reason to change now. In fact, there’s more reason than ever. Muscle counts. I’ll find me a leader and marry him.”
“And who would that be?”
She giggled. “After yesterday you’re a leader. You’re an important man.” She slid across to him and put her arm around him. Then she laughed aloud. “What’s got you so tense? Am I that terrifying?”
“Certainly.” She was.
She laughed again. “Poor Harvey. I know exactly what you’re thinking. Obligation. You’ve seduced the girl, and you ought to marry her, and you know damn well you can’t resist if I really work at it… see?” Her hands moved to intimate places.
Living with Loretta hadn’t readied him for this kind of warfare. He kissed her hard (she couldn’t bluff Harvey Randall!) and maintained the kiss (because it felt so good, and hell, Maureen had her winged man) until she drew back.
“That wasn’t very nice of me,” she said. “Don’t worry, Harv, I’m really not after you. It wouldn’t work. You know me too well. No matter what we did, even if we really did learn to love each other, you’d always wonder about it. You’d wonder if it was all an act, wonder when I’d decide to drop it. And we’d fight, and play head games, and dominance games…”
“I was thinking something like that.”
“Don’t talk yourself into anything,” Marie said. “I don’t need that. I would like to be your friend.”
“Sure. I’d like that. Who’s your real target?’
“Oh, I’m going to marry George Christopher.”
Harvey was startled. “What? Does he know?”
“Of course not. He still thinks he’s got a chance with Maureen. He tells me about her every chance he gets. And I listen, too.”
“I just bet you do. What makes you think he won’t get Maureen?”
“Don’t be silly. With you and Johnny Baker to choose between? She’ll never marry George. If they hadn’t known each other forever, if he weren’t her first, she wouldn’t even consider him.”
“And me?”
“You got a chance. Baker has a better one.”
“Yeah. I suppose it would be silly to ask if you’re in love with George,” Harvey said.
Marie shrugged. He could feel that in the dark. “He’ll be sure I am,” she said. “And it won’t be anybody else’s business. There won’t be any repetitions of tonight, Harvey. This was… something special. The right man at the right time. I’ve always… Tell me, all those years we lived next door, weren’t you ever tempted to come over some afternoon when Loretta was out and Gordie was at the bank?”
“Yes. But I didn’t.”
“Good. Nothing would have happened, but it always worried me that you didn’t try. Good. Now let’s get some sleep.” She turned away and curled up in the blanket.
Poor George, Harvey thought. No. That’s not right. Lucky George. If I didn’t know her so damned well… Dammit, I’m still tempted. George, you don’t know it, but you’re about to be a happy man.
If you live long enough.
If Marie lives!
Dawn: a red smear in the Sierra. The winds blew fitfully, light airs. Mist rose from the San Joaquin Sea.
When the sun was high, they saw them: A hundred or more of the New Brotherhood had crossed during the night. They were concentrated near the old Lake Success bed, and they moved back toward the ruined bridge, sweeping aside the screen of Stronghold defenders. The Brotherhood’s mortars began to fire, forcing the defenders back up the valley and onto the ridges.
The withdrawal was orderly, but steady. “By noon they’ll have cleared the valley,” Harvey told Marie. “I thought — I hoped — they’d hold longer. At least they aren’t running like rabbits.”
She nodded, but went on reporting the enemy positions on the CB. There wasn’t anything else to do.
Alice sounded terrified whenever she spoke, but she demanded their reports anyway.
Useless, Harvey thought. It’s no good. He looked at the map, wondering if he could find a way into the Sierra that didn’t go back down and through the enemy — or where the New Brotherhood would be soon.
“They’re repairing the bridge,” Marie reported. “They’ve got big trees, and hundreds to carry them.”
“How long until they can get trucks across?” Alice asked.
“No more than an hour.”
“Stand by, I have to report that to Mr. Hardy,” Alice said. The radio went silent.