The reacquaintance wasn't a pleasant one. Robot probes brought pictures of the nuclear desert that had been North America. Bill's Chicago looked like some ancient ruins he had once seen in an archaeology book. Pictures of Russia showed almost identical scenes. As the commentator, speaking in English, identified various sites, Bill felt tears coursing down his face.
"That sure ain't the Chicago I knew," he said.
Molly patted his hand. "I know. Such a horrible waste. And for what?"
"Listen," Paul hissed.
The next story sent shock waves through Molly's own constitution. Radiation from the sea, the report said, was blowing over the British Isles. Rich farmland had become uninhabitable, and much of the population already suffered from some degree of radiation sickness. Mass evacuations turned into panic rushes; two ferries had already sunk due to extreme overloading. People streamed to the Continent by any means possible. Several had tried to swim the Channel and drowned in the attempt. Great Britain, after weathering her economic catastrophe to a survival degree, had finally collapsed altogether. For all intents, the Isles were as dead as Washington, D.C.
Molly sobbed out her broken heart. Bill paced non-stop. Marie and Paul moved to comfort Molly, while Simon fell into cadence with Bill.
"Chicago - it was your home?"
"Not exactly," Bill said in a wet voice. "But close enough. I knew it pretty well. You know - all this stuff - all the changes. I thought I was coping pretty well. But seeing it - everything I ever knew, my whole life--" He increased the speed of his pacing. Simon, who was quite a bit shorter than Bill, came close to a trot in his effort to keep up. "--I don't know. I just can't handle it. Everything's crazy. Or maybe I'm crazy. I don't even know who I am any more. Before I made this stupid trip I had most of it figured out. I should have stayed home and fried like everybody else I knew!" He whirled suddenly and put his fist through a wall.
Molly jumped up. "May I join you?" She ran over to where Bill stood and smashed her own fist into the wall, next to the hole Bill had made. The wall didn't budge, but Molly screamed and clutched her fist. "How did you do that?"
Bill made a muscle. "With this."
"Oh, yes," Molly snapped. "Big, strong Yank with all the answers!" Her voice rose steadily and shook as she spoke. "Well, look what your bloody American genius has done to my homeland! It wasn't enough to kill yourselves! No, oh no! You had to take civilized people with you!"
"Don't lay that on me!" Bill shouted back. "I'm an American who really fouled up! I SURVIVED!" Bill stormed over to the door and kicked it in. It shattered like fine crystal. He vanished through the opening.
Molly stared at the splintered remains of the door and jamb. "Dear God, what have I done?" Everyone else in the room seemed frozen. Molly ran out, but tripped on some wood scraps. She landed with a splat in the hallway.
A familiar voice said, "Are you okay?"
She looked up and saw Bill standing in the hall, about ten feet away. He leaned against the wall with his arms folded on his chest. She said, "I'm all right. A wee bit embarrassed."
Bill shook his head sadly. "Yeah, me too. Wonder what a door like that costs?"
"Haven't the faintest. You did quite a job of it."
"I didn't expect it to explode like that. Guess I don't know my own strength, huh?"
"That and the fact that, if you recall, it was made to open inwards."
"Next time I'll kick it the other way."
Molly stood, but wouldn't look at him. "I'm just thankful you didn't kick me instead. Lord knows you would have had justification enough."
"There isn't enough justification in the universe to justify something like that."
"You said a mouthful." She finally looked at him. "Can you forgive me?"
"I already did. I think the door took care of it."
Bill started to laugh. Molly joined him. Soon they leaned on each other, laughing until their throats ached. Their laughter rattled the walls of the hotel. Finally, three pairs of eyes sneaked around the huge laceration that had been a door frame to see what the commotion was. Paul looked up at his mother and said, "They have gone crazy, yes?"
Out of breath but still laughing, Bill coughed, "Just the opposite, Pal. We're coping."
"I do not understand."
Bill paused and looked at Molly. "Want to know something? Neither do I!" Both broke into renewed laughter.
Marchand couldn't believe his ears. He waited a few seconds before speaking into the phone again. "Did he suffer?"
"The coroner said he died instantly," Leblanc answered.
"Enough is enough, Francois. I am recalling you. Return to Paris at once. That is an order."
"I am sorry, Pierre. I cannot do that. I still have today to search."
"Blast you, Leblanc! Can you not see what is happening? You have lost!" Captain Marchand paused for breath. "If you do not return at once, I must place you under arrest until the circumstances that surround Soubisse's death are clear."
"Arrest me, Pierre? You are welcome to try."
Marchand sipped the last of his Russian vodka. "Let me speak to the Lieutenant there. I forget his name."
"Call him yourself, Pierre. I shall be gone by the time you tell him to arrest me."
"Francois, do not do this. I warn you--" A click on the line told him Leblanc didn't care about his warning. He gulped down the rest of his vodka and pressed the intercom button. "This is Captain Marchand. Prepare me a helicopter at once."
Marchand stepped off the helicopter onto the roof of State Police headquarters in Lyons. The lieutenant, whose name he still couldn't remember, met him with a brisk salute. He waved it off and said over the wind from the chopper blades, "What is our situation?"
"He left town about two hours ago, claiming to have a lead on the American. Some nonsense about a disturbance at a hotel somewhere on the southeast highway. Units are following him, but he has a comfortable lead."
"Very well. Let us go plan our strategy while my helicopter is refueling."
"I wish Simon would come with us."
Molly turned around to Marie. "I know, dear. But he insisted on staying to explain what happened to the door. He knows our intended route, and the signals we've arranged in case there's any change. He'll be along."
Paul leaned forward. "Will one tank of fuel get us far enough into the mountains?"
"Wish I knew. It depends on what kind of mileage, or kilometage, or whatever you call it this car gets in the hills. So far, she's doing pretty good. Just needed a little carbon blown out, I guess."
"You know that Leblanc will follow."
"What else is new? Sometimes I wonder if he's human or a wind-up toy that won't wind down." He saw Paul's face in the mirror. "Never mind. More nonsense."
"Soubisse said that Leblanc's men wouldn't follow him any more," Molly said. "Do you suppose that will discourage him?"
Bill frowned over the steering wheel. "I doubt it. He's a nut. He'll come after us by himself on a broken skateboard if he has to."
When Leblanc pulled up to the hotel, the local police were just getting ready to leave. His entrance detained them. The officer in charge approached him. "How good to see you, ah--" His eyes flicked up, down, side to side, in search of some sign of Leblanc's rank. "--ah, it is always good to have the help of the Nationals. How may I help you?"
"Have you witnesses?" Leblanc asked without looking at him.
"We have one. He said it was an attempt at robbery. The thief broke down the door, but the inhabitants scared him away."
" Did anyone describe the occupants of the room?"
"The clerk did. An American man, an English woman--"
"And a French mother with a teenage boy," Leblanc finished for him.
"Why, yes. How did you know?"
Leblanc whirled on the poor man. "They are international fugitives. The wounds that you see on me, I received from them. That is how I know. Now, where is this witness?"
"O-over here. Come. I will show you."
When Simon gave his statement to the locals, he hadn't expected Leblanc to show up. He knew the Commander would recognize him, so when he saw Leblanc talking with the local detective he quietly lost himself in the crowd. By the time Leblanc and the officer got to the scene, Simon had vanished. He drove away in the middle of a caravan of cars that left the hotel shortly afterward.
When Leblanc found the "witness" missing, he asked for a description. No one could give him a good one. To everyone's terror, he pistol-whipped the detective he had been talking to and sped away. Just over an hour later a State police helicopter landed in the parking lot. The captain who directed it heard a remarkable story.
Simon drove like a maniac. All he could think of was catching up to them. He couldn't believe he was doing it; overnight he had become a Christian and a fugitive. He was a wealthy man who left behind a successful business and a well filled little black book. The part he couldn't believe was that he didn't care.
As he approached the highway junction he studied the sign closely. There it was: three bullet holes, tightly packed in the lower right corner. That meant that, for whatever reason, they had taken the right instead of the planned left. He whipped his car onto the exit and merged with the traffic below him. It shouldn't be long now.
He weaved, darted and screeched through the stream of cars in his efforts to catch his friends. He could see Marie's face in his mind: smiling, glowing, glad to see him again. The thought added more weight to his foot.
"I don't believe it! Another one!" Bill brought the car to a quick halt and reversed course to avoid another roadblock. He assumed, of course, that the police were searching for them. He had no way of knowing that Marchand had set up barriers at every possible point in order to stop, not them, but Leblanc.
Back toward the north lay yet another roadblock. It was becoming clear that they would have to try to sneak through one.
They changed positions. Marie tied her long blonde hair back and assumed the driver's seat. Paul rode up front with her. Molly sat behind Paul, and planned to speak only French. Bill positioned himself behind Marie and pretended to be asleep. He kept his pistol under his right thigh, where he could draw it quickly if he had to.
At the barricade, Marie drew to a stop and smiled sweetly at the officer nearest her. The policeman bent, glanced at all four people and said, "Pass." Marie drove away.
Out of earshot from the police, Molly started to sing the Doxology. Bill joined her. The second time through, they taught it to Paul and Marie.
Simon passed through the same roadblock without any trouble and caught them a few miles later. Together the five studied what was left of the map.
Simon pointed. "I have been up this way many times. We will reach more remote areas on this road. It has many - what you call it - the road is like this." He made a snaking motion with his hand.
"Switchbacks," Bill said.
Molly countered, "S-curves."
"Places that go like this." Paul imitated Simon's hand motion.
Bill said, "Sounds good. How long till we get there?"
"Perhaps one hour."
"Well, let's head 'em up and move 'em out." Everyone stared at him. "Uh, let's go."
He pried the Saab's trunk open to get Paul's rifle and the police revolvers he had confiscated. When his little army saw the food, however, they promptly forgot they were fighting a war.
After they had reduced the remaining bags of groceries to a conglomeration of empty cans and wrappers, Marie insisted that Bill and Molly ought to have some time to themselves. Newlyweds, after all, needed time to share special conversation with each other. The couple tried to protest, but Marie solidly informed Paul that he and she would ride with Simon. Paul grinned knowingly, snatched up his rifle and took up residence in Simon's back seat.
Bill got an idea. "Simon! You know this area. How about you lead?"
"Very good," Simon called back. "Let us go, then."
Once on the road, Bill and Molly burst into laughter. "I think she likes him," Bill said.
"I think it's mutual. That tactic had all the subtlety of a neon sign."
"Yeah. Still," he said as he reached over and took her hand, "It is nice to be alone for a change."
Molly slid over and nestled her head on his shoulder.
As they drove they noticed how often Marie shifted her position in the seat. Each little squirm carried her farther from the passenger door. At a certain point, they saw her turn and take a teasing swing at Paul. Both could imagine what he must have said. Simon lifted his arm and Marie snuggled into it.
Bill said, "Took them long enough."
"As if you've got room to make judgments?"
"Of course I do. I speak from experience."
Molly pinched his knee. He chuckled and said, "Don't bother the driver."
They bantered for the better part of an hour about the things that newlyweds banter about. The mountains loomed above them and the road grew steeper. Both cars slowed to about half their original speed as their concrete ladder tilted upward.
Simon led them up into the steep foothills, into areas of eternal shade where the grim majesty of the mountains overshadowed the daytime sun. Wildflowers danced over hillsides lush with green grass and an occasional granite stickpin. The cool breath of the peaks swept down and seemed to murmur, "Welcome. Enter and find refuge among us."
Bill sucked in as much of the clean, sharp air as his lungs could hold. Molly wormed her neck around to see the higher mountains and started singing again. At regular intervals on the switchbacks/S-curves/places-that-go-like-this the daytime sun washed its healing warmth over them and burned fresh rejoicing into their hearts. Bill started to cry.
" You just never realize how oppressive and heavy stuff gets until it lifts like this, do you?"
Molly looked up at him and smiled into the green eyes that she knew so well. Bill drank in the love she passed to him with her own eyes. She had fixed her face and put fresh curls into her hair that morning for the first time since he could recall offhand. He had to admit that, while he loved her deeply no matter what condition she was in, he really loved her when she looked like this.
A noise brought him back to the road. "Uh oh."
"What is it?"
"She's trying to overheat again. I was afraid of that. These hills are too much for her to take in one shot." He flashed his headlights at Simon several times. Simon found a turnout and stopped. Bill pulled in behind him.
Simon stepped out of his car and walked to Bill's window. "What is it?"
"Getting hot. We just need to let it cool down."
"Very well. Let us wait and enjoy the vision."
As he sauntered back to his car and Marie, Molly said, "I wonder who's having visions?"
"I think he meant 'view,' actually, and he's got a good idea. Take a look."
Wonder pushed Molly's eyes wide open as she turned to look out her window. The mountainside fell away beneath her into a vast blue emptiness. Below the emptiness, ridges of green bumped their way merrily down the younger mountains until they tumbled off onto the sprawling plain that stretched to the very rim of the universe. Far out across the void she saw the brown pollution stain of Lyons. The horizon leaped before her eyes, and she imagined that, on the very lip of sight's limits, she could see the Atlantic, sweeping its radioactive mysteries halfway around the earth and back again.
Bill said, "Isn't it spectacular?"
"Breathtaking."
"Let's see, what other good cliches can we come up with?"
Molly slapped his leg. "Oh, you - I love you!" She turned and fell into his arms.
Some time later, Bill peered out the windshield. Paul walked about outside, conspicuously avoiding looking into the cars. Bill said, "I think my buddy Tonto's feeling like a third left foot."
"Why don't you go talk to him? Perhaps the two of you can evaluate the car's status."
Bill got out and stretched his cramped legs. Then he called to Paul, "Hey, Tonto. Come on over."
Paul's face brightened and he trotted over to his hero. Bill patted him on the back and said, "Let's see if she's ready to roll yet."
"Yes. That is a good idea. Let us see."
Bill opened the hood and pointed. "Loosen the cap and see how the pressure's doing."
Paul checked and said, "It is much cooler. We may proceed. It did not lose much water." He wheeled suddenly and said, "Bill, may I ride with you?"
"Something bugging you?"
Paul stared at a rock between his shoes. "I know my mama is - how do you say? She misses my papa."
"Lonely."
"Yes. And Simon is very nice and mama likes him much. But he - I--"
"He's not your papa."
Paul's face twitched. "No, he is not. I like him. He is very nice to me. And he helped mama save us. But I cannot--"
"Keep talking. It helps."
"I cannot see them together. It hurts me."
Bill took the boy in his arms. "You miss your dad, don't you?"
Paul released himself to the cleansing tears. When Bill judged that he had let most of it out, he raised Paul and held him by the shoulders. "Paul, listen to me. Look at me." He waited for Paul's compliance. "We've talked about this. You had a good relationship with your dad. You still have a good one with your mom. Do you have any idea how luck - uh, blessed you are? I never had that. I really can't understand what you're feeling because when my folks finally died of their own stupidity all I could feel was relief. I hope you understand what I mean when I say I'd have loved to have what you had with your father and what you've still got with your mother. I know it bugs you to see her touch someone besides your dad, but I guess what I'm saying is, be thankful that you're that close to her than you can care what she does. Do you understand?"
Paul sniffed and nodded weakly. "Yes. And you are right. I should not interfere."
Bill frowned. "No, you don't understand, because that's not what I said. You can't help but 'interfere,' if that's what you want to call it, because if she really gets interested in Simon, or anybody else, for that matter, it'll affect you about as much as it does her. What I'm saying is that you can take that love for your mom, the closeness you feel, and even the emptiness where your dad used to be, and hang on to it and be thankful for a good family life that some of us never had. See?"
Paul thought for a minute. "You hurt also, do you not?"
"Yeah, some. But do you get it? I don't hurt because they're gone. I hurt because they were never really there the way your parents have been."
"I do understand. And I will be thankful. I am thankful. I understand. And I will talk to my mama about my feelings. Is this good?"
Bill smiled. "Now you're cooking with gas!" Paul's laughter embarrassed him. "Still want to ride with us?"
Paul wiped his face. "I think so, if it is all right. But for a different reason now, I think." He hugged his friend tightly. "Thank you, Bill."
"Any time. Now tighten the cap and let's get going."