It made sense to Bill, so he and Molly waited in a field outside the community for their teammates to pick them up. They sat and talked about love, marriage, the world situation, the theological implications of Europe's unification and a host of other topics. The one subject they consistently skirted was the future.
Molly couldn't stand it any longer. "Bill, something's troubling me. I've been thinking about it ever since we - since last night. Bill, what if I - if I become pregnant?" Fear washed over her face.
Bill shrugged. "Well, what usually happens after that is that you have a baby. You see, when a mommy sperm and a daddy sperm really love each other--"
"Thanks for nothing," she grunted. "Please. I'm serious." She blinked. "Did you really just use the phrase 'mommy sperm'?"
Bill chuckled. "Got you to smile, at least." He shrugged again. " I'm serious, too. I really don't know what you want me to say. If you do, you do, and there's not a whole lot we can do about it. Why? Are you worried about being able to travel or something?"
Molly let out a sour laugh. "That, the prospect of trying to bring up a child in this less-than-ideal period of human history--then there's the fact that, at my age, there's a greater risk of complications. For me and for the baby. I don't know if I could face the possibilities inherent in those risks."
Bill put his arm around her and ran his finger up and down her upper arm. "Hey. You know what you're doing? You're worrying about what-ifs. With all the here-it-is we have to deal with we can't afford to get shook up over things that might happen. I know one thing, though."
"What's that?"
"If you ever do get pregnant I hope it's a boy and I hope he turns out like Paul."
"He is clever beyond his years, isn't he?"
"Yeah. But more than that, more than just clever. I'd say 'responsible' is a more accurate adjective."
Molly smiled. "Where did you learn a good, sound English word like 'adjective'?"
"You'd be surprised."
"I probably would be. Not to change the subject, but where do we go from here?"
"I've got an idea. Let's change the subject again."
Molly ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his purplish-blue cheek. "Poor dear. It really weighs on you, doesn't it?"
"Only when I think about it."
"How often do you think about it?"
"Constantly. I even dream about it sometimes."
Molly brightened. "Well, when Paul and Marie return, why don't we hold a council and discuss a plan of action?"
Bill nodded. "I like that. Let's do it."
They chatted casually for an indeterminate length of time. All at once a car crunched the gravel on the side of the nearby road., They heard a door open, followed by three short, high-pitched whistles. "There they are. Sounds like they did it," Bill said. "Let's go."
They made their way through the lush greenery to the road. Marie sat behind the wheel of an aging Saab that was primer gray with deep circles of rust. Puffs of blue smoke churned from behind it, and the whole car shivered with the putterings of the engine.
"Looks like a car. Does it run?"
Paul leaned across his mother while Molly covered her smile with her hand. "It is running, Bill. Do you not hear?"
"What I hear is a desperately needed ring and valve job, and probably motor mounts, too," Bill said as he squinted his face and listened more closely.
Paul looked as though he was going to cry. "I am sorry we failed, Bill. This was the best we could buy with the money we had. Please do not be angry. I am sorry."
Paul's tone and expression suddenly made Bill feel like an insensitive jerk. Marie, too, appeared shattered. Molly nudged Bill in the ribs and said, "You'd better say something brilliant, and quickly."
Out of the corner of his mouth Bill said, "Got any ideas?"
"It's your show."
"Thanks a bunch." He cleared his throat. "Ah, listen. It's our car and we may as well enjoy it. It probably just needs a tune-up. Come on, Paul, help me check out the mill."
"The what?"
"In English, engine. Let's give it a look. I could really use your help."
Paul brightened. "Do you mean it? You are not angry?"
Bill shrugged. "It ain't exactly a Ferarri, but it got you here. I'm sorry for what I said. You did good with the money you had."
Marie called out the window, "We knew it was not the best. But our neighbors' sympathy did not extend beyond their love for money."
Bill stopped with his hand under the edge of the hood. "Hey, look, Both of you. I was out of line. I had no business saying what I did. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I feel like an idiot." He popped the hood and set the rod in place just as Paul stepped to his side.
Bill removed the air filter housing and inspected the filter. Paul looked on and said, "It is filthy."
"Yeah," Bill said. "Too filthy to clean out. Toss it in the back seat. We'll run without it."
"But that will allow dirt in the cylinders."
"I know. But if we want good bottom-end acceleration we'll have to take that chance."
"I understand," Paul nodded. He took the filter and dropped it in the window.
Bill looked him in the eye. "I believe you do. I think I underestimated you. Sorry about that."
Paul glowed. "I am doing well?"
"You're doing great. Now, ease the throttle up until I tell you to hold it steady."
"Very well."
They listened, adjusted and tinkered for several minutes while Molly and Marie made small talk. Finally Paul announced, "We are ready to go."
Paul held the seat forward So Bill could crawl in the back and asked, "It sounds much better, does it not?"
"A lot better," Bill answered, winking at Molly, who already sat in back. "Thanks for the hand."
Paul blushed as he closed the door. "You did the work."
Bill reached up and patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, I haven't met a mechanic yet who didn't wish he had four hands. With you around, I've got 'em."
Paul turned redder. "Thank you, Bill."
Bill fingered a hole in the seat. "Actually, this was a pretty good choice, We're a lot less conspicuous in this than we would be in something like that BMW."
"And it was purchased properly, not swapped for," Paul pointed out. "So it will not appear on any stolen car reports."
"Good point," Bill laughed.
"I'd give him about five points for that one," Molly said.
"Yeah, well, I'm glad you're not the scorekeeper. I'd be in the minus column by now."
Molly slid her arm up and started tickling his shoulder. "Only in some departments."
Bill playfully brushed her hand away and said, "Why aren't we moving?"
"I do not know where we are going," Marie answered.
"Two points for Marie," Molly teased. "You're falling farther and farther behind."
"Hush, you. I don't either, Marie. Let's put some distance between us and the town and then stop to sort things out."
"Very well." Marie worked the stick into first gear and eased the clutch out. Bill made mental notes as they picked up speed. Clutch smooth, gears okay, rear end makes a little noise but no big deal, u-joints are howling but shouldn't be a problem unless we really have to jump on it a lot. He reminded himself to keep an eye on the oil level.
They approached a highway junction outside the town. On a hunch Bill said, "Take a left."
Marie guided the car around the corner. Bill said, "Now go about half a mile--uh, around a kilometer, I think--a ways, anyway, and pull over." Marie followed Bill's instructions and soon they all stood about the car, each waiting for someone else to speak first.
Molly broke the silence. "I just realized something. It's nearly noon and we've had nothing to eat since this time yesterday. Is anyone else as hungry as I?"
"Now that you mention it, yeah. Where's the nearest town where we can get something to eat?"
Marie pointed east. "Twenty or so kilometers that way. But there is a closer place where we may eat."
"Great. Where is it?"
Marie nodded to Paul. Paul got the keys to the car and opened the trunk. "Right here." He pointed to several grocery bags full of assorted canned and packaged foods, including some bread and processed meats. "This is why we did not have as much money to spend on the car. We knew we would need food, so we tried to buy enough to last for some time. Perhaps we should simply have spent more on a car."
Bill's agile fingers already twirled the little can opener he had found on top of one of the bags around the rim of a can of green beans. "You can't eat a crankshaft," he mumbled to the can. "Forgive me for ever doubting you. Sometimes my mouth runs off and forgets to take my brain along." He tipped the open can up and poured about half of it into his upraised mouth. Molly gasped.
"Egad, what a gullet!"
Bill gave a loud, raucous burp and Molly lost whatever composure she may have had. She laughed until her sides threatened to beat her senseless. As she tried to wipe the leakage from her eyes and face she said, "How does one get a divorce from a marriage such as ours?"
"Easy," Bill answered as he downed the other half of the can. "Just say the ceremony backwards." Molly was about to kick him in the shins when Bill said, "Talk about me! Look at that!"
Molly turned to see what Bill meant and saw Paul holding a huge sandwich. He appeared to dislocate his jaw in order to wrap his teeth around it.
When they had all stuffed themselves like Garfield the cat, they sat down in a circle to discuss their plans. Marie spoke first.
"I do not know what to think. So much has happened in two days that my head, it spins like a dervish. As long as we were busy and moving, my mind did not think of such things. Now that we stop and gather ourselves, I realize - my life, my home, my family heritage, the warm, safe place to raise my son - these are gone. I am left with my son and a fugitive's existence. I - I - oh, it all crashes in on me. I do not know if I can--" she broke down in great, bone-rattling sobs.
Paul drew his mother's head to his breast. He massaged her scalp and let her cry for quite some time. Bill and Molly kept silent. They both understood too well how she felt. When he felt that she had cried enough, Paul said, "Mother, listen to me. Mama! Hear me!" Marie stopped crying and stared at him.
"You talk to your mother this way?"
"Forgive me, Mama. But you need to hear me. These things are gone, it is true. We will never see our farm, our little house, our tractor that always needs to be fixed - we will not see these things again. perhaps we will never have a true home again. But we have each other, we have our friends and we have Jesus. And He is the most important thing in the world. Do you not remember?"
Paul stood and paced while he talked. Marie felt as if she was watching a stranger instead of her own child.
"We must determine," Paul continued, "What is most important, what we seek to accomplish and how best to achieve that goal. Without encountering a certain Monsieur Leblanc, if that is possible. Mother," he turned and looked at Marie, "I, too, will miss our home and the things that gave our life - ah, that gave us - how do you say?" He looked quizzically at Bill.
"Stability?" Bill offered.
"Please explain 'stability'?"
"Sort of like the foundation of a house. It's stable, it doesn't shift all over the place. Or a car that holds the road and doesn't spin out when you take a corner too fast."
"Yes," Paul said pensively. "Stability is the word I seek, I think. I, as I said, will miss these things that give our lives stability. But we cannot dwell on the past. Do you believe we erred when we opened our home to Bill and Molly?"
"Of course not," Marie shot back. "What a way to talk to your mother!" She lapsed into a series of French recriminations.
Bill held up his hand in a "quiet" gesture and Marie stopped. "I think Paul was trying to make a point. Maybe you should hear him out."
"Very well. Continue, Paul."
Paul nodded in a rather scholarly manner and resumed his pacing. "Very well then. If we did not err in opening our home, then we must have done the right thing. Is this not so?"
"It is obvious." Marie tried not to chuckle.
"Therefore, we have done the right thing and it has brought us to the point where we are now. Is this correct?"
Marie squinted. Suddenly she felt she should take her son very seriously. "I do not see the point of what you say."
"Simply this, Mama." Paul stopped pacing, put his hands on his hips and locked eyes with his mother. "If we have done the right thing, and this is where that deed has brought us, then this must be where we are supposed to be."
Bill and Molly traded astonished glances. Bill asked, "Who is this kid?"
"I believe his name was Aristotle or something like that," Molly whispered back.
Aristotle Jarnais still awaited a response from Marie. She merely stared at him. Finally he said, "Do you not see, Mother? If we had stayed on the farm and had not helped our friends we would not be where we are supposed to be. But now we are. Is that not much better than merely having stability?"
Marie looked as if she would faint. "I believe you are right, my son. Where did you learn such wisdom?"
Paul's face grew red with embarrassment. "I - I do not know, Mama. It just made sense to me."
Molly turned to Bill. "Have we just seen a gift of wisdom in action?"
"Sure sounds like it. I hope there's more where that came from."
"I do not understand," Marie said.
"Nor I," Paul added,
Bill stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "We need to make some plans and get going and I don't know how to explain spiritual gifts in 25 words or less. Can we postpone the theology lesson until we get on the road?"
"Good idea," Molly answered.
"Very well," Paul and Marie said together as Marie and Molly got up. Mother and son glanced at each other, laughed and hugged.
"All right," Bill began as he dug out their battered map. "Anybody got any ideas?"
"We could turn toward the sea," Marie offered.
"The seas are radioactive, Mother. The closer we get to them, the more radiation we risk."
"Scratch that idea," Bill mumbled. "What about going east, toward Germany?"
Paul fingered his teeth for a moment, then asked, "Does this Leblanc respect you?"
Bill laughed. "He hates me."
"I know that. But as a foe, does he respect you? Does he believe you have the intelligence to lead him a merry chase?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. He said I was resourceful, and that'd make it more fun to kill me. He has a strange idea of what's fun."
"Well," Paul mused, "If I were he, I would expect a resourceful opponent to try to cross the border. By a wandering path, of course, but ever eastward. I believe Leblanc will expect us to go that way."
"Egad, he has a good point," Molly responded.
Paul squatted with the map. "So he will probably put checkpoints on this road, and this one and this one, since they are the major routes to the east. If I were he, I would place them far enough east that we would have to be on one of them sooner or later. Spur roads do not go all the way to Germany."
Bill threw up his hands and grumbled, "Scratch idea number two."
Paul stood up. "I am sorry, Bill. I did not mean to - that is, it made sense to me."
Bill wrapped his arms around the teenager. "That's the trouble, pal. It makes sense to me, too, but only after you explain it. And these chicks think I'm the brains of this outfit."
Paul stared blankly. Bill said, "Just more American language. Never mind, it wasn't worth translating."
"It certainly wasn't," Molly said.
"Go bite a wall, Molly. Me and Tonto here have some plans to make. You women just stay in the kitchen where you belong."
"We don't have a kitchen, you silly Yank."
"Then stick your head in a grocery bag."
During the conversation, Molly had slowly circled closer to Bill. Now she reached up and pinched his neck.
"Yeeouch! Hey! That hurt!"
"Good. It was intended to."
"Go 'way, woman! Lemme alone so's I can plot our escape."
Molly winked at him. "Very well. You big, strong men can plan how to protect us poor, weak, defenseless females."
"Now you're talking sense." He dodged as her foot sailed toward the back of his knee.
"Soubisse!"
The radio seemed to pinch Soubisse's voice as he called back, "Yes, Commander Leblanc."
"Did you receive that communique just now?"
"I did. It would appear they have tricked us."
"Yes. It would appear so. Meet me back at the crossroads."
"Acknowledged. E.T.A. ten minutes. Soubisse out."
At the crossroads, the leaders of the two squads held a private conference. All the other gendarmes knew Leblanc was in charge, but they also knew how indispensable an assistant Soubisse had become to him.
Leblanc tugged at his mustache. "What do you think, Charles? Are they still around the town somewhere? Or have they gone?"
Soubisse disappeared into a cloud of thought for a moment. Leblanc considered his second-in-command. Soubisse stood half a head shorter than Leblanc, and his frame was slight. He had sharp, angular features that made him resemble an angry buzzard. He always kept himself clean shaven and meticulously maintained his sandy hair. Fathomless blue eyes kept any and all his secrets from escaping. The bruise on his face from where the American had sucker-punched him had nearly vanished by now, and his speech had returned to near-normal as his broken jaw had healed.
Leblanc's examination roamed over Soubisse's body. He was thin but wiry. He and Leblanc had worked out together for years, but his body never expanded like Leblanc's did. Instead, his muscles packed themselves into tight little knots of power. He could bench press almost as much as Leblanc could, and had many times arm wrestled his commander to a draw. In hand-to-hand combat Leblanc could still throw Soubisse despite the latter's deceptive strength, but he had to use all his superior weight to do it.
Soubisse fluttered down out of his cloud. "If they stayed in town, they must know we would come back after them the moment the stolen car was found. I suspect they have acquired another vehicle and resumed their journey."
"Might they not have set out on foot?"
Soubisse eyed the bigger man out of the corners of his eyes. "Do you truly believe, my friend Francois, that this American is that stupid?"
"Of course not," Leblanc returned in a patronizing tone. "But the American also knows that I do not believe he is that stupid. He might easily decide that such a move would be the best one, simply because he knows that I would never expect him to make such a move. I have told you, Charles. Do not underestimate his resourcefulness. This American is more crafty than you can imagine."
Soubisse knew the game well. He and Leblanc had played it for years. But this really didn't seem like the time for such a game. Nevertheless, Soubisse obediently took his turn at bat. "I realize that, and X-rays of my jaw will remind me of it for the rest of my life. But he also knows that we can tell within a day or two whether he has procured another car. And this would not give him sufficient time to make an adequate escape on foot, especially traveling with two women. He would know he needs a faster mode of transportation to slip under our nets before we cast them."
Leblanc laughed heartily. "Very well reasoned, my friend. I enjoy playing such mental games with you. You are a worthy comrade."
"Thank you," Soubisse answered wryly. "Now, if the games are over, let us see if they have taken a vehicle."
Soubisse stood by his car, the radio microphone still in his hand. Leblanc approached him and said, "Well?"
"The plot thickens," Soubisse answered, more to himself than to Leblanc. "A woman who fits the description of the vixen we took from the house bought a car from one of the townspeople only this morning." He turned and looked at Leblanc. "Francois, she had a teenage boy with her. Her son, apparently."
"Is this boy old enough to use a rifle?" Leblanc's face began to display comprehension.
"No doubt. That answers one of life's little mysteries. As for the matter at hand, we should have an easy time finding them. The car the woman and her son bought is a - the best way I can describe it is to borrow one of the American's own slang words--"
" The irony of that does not escape me, Charles," Leblanc grinned.
"--a rattletrap. It is on the verge of falling to pieces. The man who sold it to them boasted that he made them pay twice what it was worth. The other townspeople nearly tarred and feathered him for taking advantage of a widow and her son."
Leblanc seemed to be somewhere else. "A widow, you say? And the boy. Did the constable in town have his description?"
"None to speak of," Soubisse replied. "A typical young boy who appeared very protective of his mother."
"Such a boy it was who sent us on this chase. I wonder . . . well, no matter. Which way will they go now?"
Soubisse thought a moment. "If I were they, I should try to place myself beyond your jurisdiction. Another country, perhaps."
Leblanc gave a low laugh. "Since the Unification, there are no countries. Only districts."
"But each district maintains its own law enforcement statutes, as dictated by the Central Committee of the United Land of Europe."
"Why do I feel as though I am required to salute when you say the name?"
Soubisse grinned. "Melodramatic, is it not? Still, I believe they will try to make it to Germany, or perhaps to Switzerland. It is their only choice."
"Perhaps you are right, Charles. Call Captain Marchand. Tell him to put roadblocks on all thoroughfares to Germany. Inform him that the pair is now a foursome, and describe the car. This American may be able to keep it running. We have, after all, very little information about him."
Soubisse saluted. "At once, Commander. And as for us?"
"As for us," Leblanc shrugged, "We will turn our search toward the east on this road and see if we stalk our prey as well as we think we do." He made a sour face.
"Your wound bothers you, does it not?"
"Only when I think of that cursed American Christian running free."
"I always wanted to see the Alps. Unfortunately, they weren't on my itinerary."
"They are now," Marie said. "You and Paul made a good plan."
" Paul, came up with it."
Paul blushed. "Well, I have never seen the Alps before, either. "
Molly said, "Really? But you only lived a day's drive from them."
Marie laughed. "The life of a farming family does not include time for travel. There is always more to do."
"Well, Alps, here we come, ready or not." Bill pushed the pedal down a little more and the weary-sounding engine chugged a little louder.
The warm noon air, coupled with four full stomachs, lulled the travelers into a trance-like state as the rolling French countryside meandered past them. Wildflowers marched in neat columns along the edges of the road. Birds swooped occasionally to try to chase away the mechanical invader. Squirrels darted across the road and chattered their curses at the unwelcome humans. Bill felt at complete peace as he drove with Molly's hand in his. Marie and Paul apparently slept in the back seat.
"They've undoubtedly found that car by now."
"Yeah."
"Do you think they're following us?"
"Probably. Leblanc's no dummy himself."
Molly sighed. "Where do you suppose our place of safety is?"
Bill shrugged one hand on the wheel. "I guess in the Alps somewhere."
"How much fuel do we have?"
"Little over three quarters of a tank."
"Is it enough to get us there?"
"With the noise this thing makes, I doubt it. Mileage probably isn't too hot."
"Beg pardon?"
"It uses more gas than a new BMW."
"Oh."
Bill brightened. "Paul's something, isn't he?"
"Indeed. The Lord certainly endowed him with wisdom."
"Just in time, too."
Molly laughed quietly. "Isn't that par for the course?"
"Hey. I thought that was an American expression."
"Think again. The Scots invented golf."
"Oh."
"Now don't cry. You Americans didn't invent everything, you know."
"Why don't you turn on the radio so I can listen to something a little less demeaning?"
"Big baby." Molly reached over and switched it on.
"The Central Committee today approved English as the official language of the United Land of Europe. In the District of Italy, government troops seized the Vatican and declared it government property. The Pope was ordered to surrender, but refused and barricaded himself in St. Peter's. Loyal troops placed charges around the cathedral and demolished it. The Pope and his entourage died in the rubble of their outmoded religion. In other news, four enemies of the State were machine gunned to death in Bonn when they refused to stop preaching their heresy in the streets. Street crews cleaned them up quickly and effectively. The famine in England seems to be diminishing somewhat, though experts say radiation from the proximity of the sea appears to be poisoning crops all over the island district. In the District of Belgium. . ."
"That thing certainly drones, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Bill said toward his open window. "Too bad. I kind of liked that Pope. I always thought he was a genuine Christian."
Molly acted surprised. "I thought Americans believed that Catholicism was the Antichrist."
Bill shook his head. "Some did. But a lot of us thought the witch-hunters were blowing smoke. They were the type who'd say those people in Paris who prayed in tongues were in league with the Devil."
"You believe the Pope is a Christian and the gift of tongues is legitimate. My, you are a poor excuse for an American, aren't you?"
Bill smiled. "Well, when I would hear the Pope preach the love of Jesus to all mankind, I had a hard time matching him up with the evil, blood-curdling monster the hardnoses made him out to be. And I was always taught that speaking in tongues is wrong, but the more I see since the war, the less I'm sure about all that dogmatic stuff. I'm thinking the guys who tried the hardest to make everybody believe the way they did really had the fewest answers. Like I said, blowing smoke."
"You two talk an awful lot," Paul groaned.
"He's right, Molly. We're married now. We're not supposed to talk to each other any more."
"I didn't know that. Terribly sorry. It won't happen again."
Marie asked, "Do you two ever stop joking?"
"Not if we can help it." Bill glanced at the back seat. "Is that our turn up there?"
"I think so," Paul answered as he squinted into the midday glare. "Yes, that is it."
Bill reached the intersection and turned south. "I always wanted to see a real mountain. The nearest thing to one I ever saw was the Sears Tower."