The road turned down into a gully containing clumps of desert evergreens. I had the lights on, but the visibility was terrible, and I had trouble deciding where I was supposed to go from there. It was all snow. I said to hell with it, stopped, rocked the pickup back and forth a bit when it wouldn't come loose at once, and backed it in among the nearest trees. I cut the lights and windshield wipers, leaving the engine and heater running.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Gail said, beside me. Her voice sounded rusty from disuse.
I said, "A guy tried to run us off a cliff, remember? He may be a hundred miles away by now, but I'd rather not bank on it. Those tracks will be drifted over in half an hour, enough so in the dark nobody'll know we're here."
"That's nice," she said. "I suppose somebody'll find our bodies, come spring."
I said, "You must lead a hell of a life, glamor girl, terrorized by every little snowflake. Look the highway is only about a mile due west. If we can't get the truck out in the morning, we'll just dress up warmly and walk out for help. Okay? Now take your shoes off and make yourself comfortable… Oh, and you can take that wary look off your face, too."
"I wasn't-"
"The arrangements," I said, "will be simple and virtuous. You'll sleep up front here in the cab. The seat's a little short, but you'll come a lot closer to fitting in than I would. I'll bed down in back. Now, with that great load off your mind, suppose you tell me whether you prefer gin or tequila with your ham sandwich…
I brought the refreshments out of the rear, switched on the interior light, and we had a kind of picnic there in the cab while the storm-lashed twilight outside gradually turned black with premature night. Over the rumble of the motor and the whir of the heater keeping us warm, we could hear the wind screaming through the nearby trees.
It was cozy enough in the truck, but it was kind of like being alone in space, hurtling along a predetermined orbit in a sealed capsule. I saw the attractive woman at the other end of the seat wince as the truck rocked on its springs, feeling the blast. I reached out and poured a couple of fingers of tequila into her plastic cup.
"Didn't you ever sit out a blue norther before?" I asked. "I thought you told me you were born on a ranch;"
She shrugged. "I never was any more of an outdoors girl than I had to be." Her eyes narrowed. "Come to think of it, darling, I never told you anything of the sort. Have you been checking up on me?"
"Did you think we wouldn't? The dope came through just before breakfast. Just a brief summary."
She laughed shortly. "It must have made interesting reading."
As a matter of fact, it hadn't. It had been the usual story of a girl with too much beauty, too much money and too many husbands.
"I must say," she said, "that the idea of people snooping around and asking questions-"
She stopped, as a violent gust swept through our sheltering hollow. A branch beat against the side of the metal canopy. Snow peppered the windshield like thrown gravel. From inside, the glass looked crystallized and opaque. Gail's knuckles were white, gripping the cup.
"Relax," I said. "The end of the world should still be a few days off, if my guess is correct."
She said, "Damn you, we can't all be great pioneer heroes… What did you mean by that?"
"I've been thinking," I said, "about Sarah-your sister Janie, and what made her do it, go over, as we call it. Mac isn't often so wrong about the people he picks. Screwy as we are, we don't usually let him down for reasons of simple biological attraction. She wasn't a school kid, after all. She'd had training and a couple of years experience in a tough racket."
"Yes," Gail said. "One day I'm going to find out exactly how tough this racket of yours is, darling." It could have been a veiled threat, although her face showed no hint of it.
I said, "I figure he must have pulled the old doomsday pitch on her. It's the one they usually drag out when it's a question of nuclear weapons and they need a few misguided idealists to throw sand in the works. It explains what she said to you when she was dying."
"You mean, about her only missing a few days?"
I nodded. "That's the way I read it. The world is going to end December thirteenth, she'd been told, presumably due to this underground test in the Manzanitas, if she didn't do something about it quick or get you to do it for her… Well, they've pulled that line before and the world's still here, so I'm not going to brood about it. I'll get you a sleeping bag. Which suitcase do you want?"
She hesitated, started to ask a question then changed her mind. "The small one has my nightie-"
"Nightie?" I said. "What do you think this is, a June honeymoon at Niagara Falls? You'll freeze to death in a nylon nightie. You'd better sleep in those clothes or pull on some warm slacks if you've got them; you may even have to keep your coat on. It'll get cold in here when we shut down the motor. If you haven't got wool socks, I'll lend you a pair."
She said, rather stiffly, I'll wear my own things, thank you."
"Suit yourself," I said. "Sleep well."
XII
It took her more than an hour to make up her mind and then having made it up, to do something about it.
Lying in back, I saw the cab light come on, illuminating the window above my head. A lot of activity followed- when a greenhorn gets involved with a sleeping bag, you'd think a boa constrictor had got into the act.
At last the light went out and the cab door opened- and closed noisily, slammed shut by the wind. Seconds later, she was knocking at the rear door of the canopy. I let her wait a little. It wouldn't do to let her think I'd been expecting her. Finally, I made a grudging sound and crawled back to raise the door which was hinged at the top and swung up like a station-wagon transom.
"Here," she said, pushing an armload of bedding at me. I disposed of the stuff behind me and reached down to help her inside. "Watch your head," I said. "This isn't the lobby of the Hotel Paso del Norte. What's the matter?"
"I'm freezing up there," she gasped, scrambling in beside me. "And scared."
"I offered you warm socks. And I told you to wear your coat."
"There wasn't room for it inside that damn zipper bag. And when I spread it over me, it kept falling off. Anyway, you can't talk to a damn coat."
I closed and latched the door, shutting out the snow and wind. I switched on the electric lantern I kept back there, got her sleeping bag open like a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She drew it tight about her, shivering realistically. I found the tequila bottle and the plastic cups.
"We're going to die!" she moaned tragically, taking the cup I offered her. "We're never going to get out of this dreadful place alive!"
I laughed. "Cut it out. Now if we'd counted on staying in a motel, we'd be in real trouble. There aren't many along this highway, and they'll all be full of stranded travelers, tonight."
"My feet!" she said. "They're frozen absolutely solid."
"Sure," I said. "Gangrene will set in any minute." I made an examination. She'd come around the truck in her stocking feet, rather than ruin her shoes in the snow. "You'd better take off those wet nylons," I said.
She hesitated then unwrapped herself enough to get her skirt up and one garter disengaged; then she began to shake uncontrollably and hugged the robe about her again. Well, she probably was kind of cold. I wouldn't have wanted to run around out there practically barefoot.
"You d-do it," she gasped.
I glanced at her. She had the grace to blush. It was pretty damn corny. I mean, I hadn't been sure until then-not absolutely sure-but the please-help-me-off -with-my-stockings gambit was a dead give-away. No adult woman who didn't plan on getting laid was going to start that routine-alone with a man in a cramped refuge on a stormy night.