"Welcome back to the land of the living."
He closed his eyes to block the light. "Where are we?"
"Traveling the French countryside. How do you feel?"
"Not too bad. How long did I sleep?"
"About two hours."
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't realize I was so tired."
"Blood loss, probably. You'll be weak for a few days."
The pain in his arm reminded him of the fight. "Just what we need. What happened at Customs?"
Molly shrugged. "They stamped our passports and wished us good day."
Bill gave her an odd look. "They didn't care that mine was American?"
"Not at all. Apparently, the French are a bit more tolerant on that score than the English."
Bill looked out the window. "I wonder why that is."
Molly laughed. "Some of my people still haven't forgotten the war."
"I can understand that. With the impact on their economy--"
"Not that war. The one in 1776."
"Huh?"
"Your revolution. When the colonies beat Britain's finest."
"They're still mad about that?"
She nodded. "Heritage runs deep. I'm not trying to insult you, but an American could never understand. Your heritage, your national history was so short."
"Two hundred-plus years is short?"
"Compared to ours, yes. Our heritage goes back to the Roman Empire and beyond. Look at our great legends: Arthur, Robin Hood, Beowulf--a national history such as that tends to bury itself deeply in the collective consciousness. With such a magnificent military history, a thrashing by a rag-tag collection of farmers with muskets will likely never be forgotten."
Bill shook his head. "Weird. But, like you say, I couldn't understand." He opened the window a little. "Know what I dreamed about?"
"Since I wasn't there, obviously not."
He didn't laugh. "Vasily."
"What about him?"
"The way he talked about Christians. Like he wasn't one."
She nodded. "And we didn't try to make him one."
"Let's try not to make that mistake again."
They lapsed into silence for half an hour. Bill watched the kilometers tick away on the odometer, waved to the occasional farmer along the road, studied the little villages they passed every so often. When they reached a sign that said they were nearing Avion, Molly said, "Are you hungry?"
Bill jumped. "You scared me. Yeah, I guess I am. But not for sardines and crackers."
She chuckled. "Let's stop at Avion and find a cafe."
"Sounds good. I'm beginning to think this is the way to tour Europe."
She took the Avion exit and turned left under the freeway. As they neared the town Molly said, "Do you speak French?"
"Sure. French fries, French toast, French poodle, no parley."
Molly nearly ran off the road. "Let me do the talking, all right?"
"Owie owie."
"Beg pardon?"
"That's French for 'yes, yes.'"
She slapped his leg. "I think you mean, oui oui."
"Yeah, I could use one of those, too."
She pinched his cheek and pulled up to a curb next to an outdoor restaurant. They found a table and sat studying the menu.
"What would you like, Bill?"
"I don't know. It all looks the same to me."
"You're holding the menu upside-down."
"I know. It makes more sense to me that way."
She smiled and shook her head. "Never mind. I'll order for us."
Molly's fluid use of French surprised him. Within minutes they were devouring some sort of lamb dish. They both focused on their plates until a grunt made them look up.
A policeman stood over them. He said something in French to Bill. Through a mouthful Bill said, "No speak," and pointed to Molly.
She talked with the officer for a few seconds and stood. Bill said, "What's going on?"
"We're illegally parked. He wants me to move the car."
"Okay. Hurry back." He took another bite and a sip of wine. He winced; he had never liked wine.
He listened to Molly and the gendarme talk and gathered that something was wrong. He quietly rose and moved toward them, keeping the policeman's back to him.
The officer reached into the car and came out with Bill's Bible in his hand. The brown leather cover flapped as the man talked. Molly protested while Bill edged closer. As the man reached for Molly's arm, Bill grabbed the book out of his upraised hand and jabbed his left index finger into the officer's back. "I'll take that. Tell him not to move or I'll fire."
Molly repeated the instructions in French. The man stiffened, but obeyed.
"Get in the car." Molly climbed in behind the wheel. "Tell him to move away but keep his back turned." Molly relayed the order. The man moved away with his hands up. Bill considered taking his gun, but decided against it. "Tell him to stand still."
To Bill's surprise the policeman said in English, "You will not get away with this."
Bill crawled into the car. "Maybe we will, maybe we won't. You just be a good boy and stay there or you won't have any part in our capture." The man nodded.
Bill whispered, "Go!" Molly brought the car to life and screeched away from the curb. She swung around and raced toward the highway. Bill looked back and saw the officer scurry toward a small car.
"Now we've stepped in it. Can we outrun him?"
"Doubtful."
"Well, I hate to do it, but here goes." He fished the gun from under his seat. With some difficulty because of his arm, he turned and angled it out the window.
Molly's voice shook. "You're not going to shoot him!"
"Not him." Bill twisted to get his arm outside. "A tire, his radiator, something to disable the car and get him off our tails."
He heard her sigh of relief as she fed the car more gas. He leaned out the window and tried to take aim. "Hold this thing still if you can."
"Tell that to the road. This is little more than a bloody cowpath!"
Bill decided the radiator would make a bigger target. He took what aim he could and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.
"Now what?" He looked closer at the pistol. The safety was on. He thumbed it down and felt the pain shoot clear up his arm. He tried to ignore it and aimed again.
The gun barked and nearly jumped out of his hand. He saw a puff of dust fly up far behind the other car. He squirmed his other arm out and held the gun in both hands. He lowered the barrel, lined up on the car's grill and fired again. To his horror, a spider-web appeared on the windshield of the police car. The car skidded out of control, ripped through a fence and slammed head-on into a tree. Bill watched for as long as he could see the car. Nothing moved.
He sank back into the car, holding the gun in front of his face. "Dear Lord, what have I done?"
Molly's jaw quivered. "It was an accident. You were trying to shoot the car."
"After the way we escaped from him back there, do you think anybody will believe that?"
"I suppose not." She whipped the car onto the highway, nearly on two wheels. "Do you suppose he radioed anyone about us?"
"Undoubtedly." "Perhaps we should take back roads instead of the motorway."
"Where are we going?"
"As I recall, the most direct route to Switzerland seems to take us through Reims. That would be our next major point of reference."
"Are there any back roads to get us there?"
"Not that I can recall."
"I guess that answers that, doesn't it?"
She frowned. "Yes, I suppose it does."
He smiled and took her hand. "Hey, take it easy. And slow down. No sense attracting attention. They probably think we went the other way since we're English."
"I hope you're right."
"What was his problem, anyway?"
She shuddered. "The French government has outlawed Christianity. He saw the Bible sticking out from under the seat. Before I could stop him he grabbed it and said he would have to take us in. I told him we had a pressing engagement in Paris and asked if he could give us a citation or something so we could take care of it there. He said he had to take us to the magistrate and get our recantations at once."
"Our what?"
"Recantations. He wanted us to renounce Christianity completely. Sort of like a public confession, a reverse baptism."
"Then what happens?"
"Then you're on the law's good side, I presume."
"Unlike us."
"Yes."
"And you told him we were going to Paris, so they'll probably be looking for us in this direction after all."
"Now that you mention it, that's likely."
"Don't get upset. It wasn't your fault." Bill closed his eyes and remained quiet for a long time. Molly thought he was asleep. As she drove, she studied him. His even breathing made the muscles of his neck ripple. His arms barely fit through the short sleeves of the shirt he now wore. He had discarded the ruined suit in favor of jeans and a light shirt; his forelock had long since fallen back onto his forehead. She decided she liked him better this way because he looked more natural.
"I have to know something."
Molly waited a moment for her heart to stop fluttering. "You startled me. I thought you were sleeping."
"Just thinking." He sat up. "I have to know. When the War came you'd known me for about a day. Why did you take me in? I mean, for all you knew I was a blood-thirsty psycho or something."
She hesitated, groping for words. "I took you in because-- because you needed taking in. I felt I would have been betraying you by not helping if I could. But it was more than that. I saw something in you, a--strength, a love for life that I had almost lost. I needed what you had. To me, the world had become a dreary, monotonous, almost unbearable place. You sparked new life into me and gave me purpose. I took you in because I needed you as much--if not more--than you needed me."
Bill let his head fall back and closed his eyes again. "You wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for me. You'd be back in your apartment with your job and a life that had some sanity left. Are you sorry you did it?"
"You weren't listening, were you? My life had no sanity. Sometimes I think boredom and lack of purpose are the surest causes of insanity. Without you, I'd probably have jumped from my window by now."
"I've killed two people. Doesn't that bother you?"
"Not as much as it seems to bother you. You did what you felt you had to do. It may have been wrong; I'm not competent to judge that. The officer back there was an accident. Stop condemning yourself."
He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Yes, Mommy." But you're not my mommy. You're a wonderful woman that I--He cut the thought off before it got any further. Reims, he told himself. If we can just get to Reims. . . He looked over at her, sat up and said, "Pull over."
"What for?"
"Because I told you to."
She eased the car to the shoulder. Bill got out and stepped around the car to the driver's side on the right. "My turn to drive."
Molly took a deep breath and took her place on the opposite side. Bill tucked himself into the driver's seat and moved the seat all the way back. "Short people," he muttered with a smile. "Where's the map?"
She found it and put it on his lap. "We're about here. When we come to this junction, we want to stay to the left. The other road leads to Paris, and I don't think we want to go there."
"Sounds good to me." He tried to fold the map and finally tossed it in a heap into the back seat. Molly laughed as he put the car in gear and eased out the clutch.
Within two minutes she fell asleep. Bill kept his eyes on the road and prayed that he wouldn't come to any road blocks.