This Perfect Day Part 22

Having her under him, having her subdued, with her legs held apart, suddenly excited him. He thought of tearing off her coveralls and "raping" her. Hadn't she said they should wait till Sat.u.r.day night? And maybe it would stop all the cloth about King, and her hating him; stop the fighting-that was what they had been doing, fighting-and the Francais hate-names.

She looked at him.

He let go of her wrist and took her coveralls where they were split at the shoulder. He tore them down across her chest and she began hitting him again and straining her legs and biting his palm.

He tore the coveralls away in stretching splitting pieces until her whole front was open, and then he felt her; felt her soft fluid b.r.e.a.s.t.s and her stomach's smoothness, her mound with a few close-lying hairs on it, the moist lips below. Her hands. .h.i.t his head and clutched at his hair; her teeth bit his palm. He kept feeling her with his other hand-b.r.e.a.s.t.s, stomach, mound, lips; stroking, rubbing, fingering, growing more excited-and then he opened his coveralls. Her leg wrenched out from under his foot and kicked. She rolled, trying to throw him off her, but he pressed her back down, held her thigh, and threw his leg over hers. He mounted squarely atop her, his feet on her ankles locking her legs bent outward around his knees. He ducked his loins and thrust himself at her; caught one of her hands and fingers of the other. "Stop," he said, "stop," and kept thrusting. She bucked and squirmed, bit deeper into his palm. He found himself partway inside her; pushed, and was all the way in. "Stop," he said, "stop." He moved his length slowly; let go of her hands and found her b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath him. He caressed their softness, the stiffening nipples. She bit his hand and squirmed. "Stop," he said, "stop it, Lilac." He moved himself slowly in her, then faster and harder.

He got up onto his knees and looked at her. She lay with one arm over her eyes and the other thrown back, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising and falling.

He stood up and found one of his blankets, shook it out and spread it over her up to her arms. "Are you all right?" he asked, crouching beside her.

She didn't say anything.

He found his flashlight and looked at his palm. Blood was running from an oval of bright wounds. "Christ and Wei," he said. He poured water over it, washed it with soap, and dried it. He looked for the first-aid kit and couldn't find it. "Did you take the first-aid kit?" he asked.

She didn't say anything.

Holding his hand up, he found her kit on the ground and opened it and got out the first-aid kit. He sat on a stone and put the kit in his lap and the flashlight on another stone alongside.

"Animal," she said.

"I don't bite," he said. "And I also don't try to kill. Christ and Wei, you thought the gun was working." He sprayed healer on his palm; a thin coat and then a thicker one.

"Cochon," she said.

"Oh come on," he said, "don't start that again."

He unwrapped a bandage and heard her getting up, heard her coveralls rustling as she took them off. She came over nude and took the flashlight and went to her kit; took out soap, a towel, and coveralls, and went to the back of the place, where he had piled stones between the spurs, making steps leading out toward the stream.

He put the bandage on in the dark and then found her flashlight on the ground near her bike. He put the bike with his, gathered blankets and made the two usual sleeping places, put her kit by hers, and picked up the gun and the pieces of her coveralls. He put the gun in his kit.

The moon slid over one of the spurs behind leaves that were black and motionless.

She didn't come back and he began to worry that she had gone away on foot.

Finally, though, she came. She put the soap and towel into her kit and switched off the flashlight and got between her blankets.

"I got excited having you under me that way," he said. "I've always wanted you, and these last few weeks have been just about unbearable. You know I love you, don't you?"

"I'm going alone," she said.

"When we get to Majorca," he said, "if we get there, you can do what you want; but until we get there we're staying together. That's it, Lilac."

She didn't say anything.

He woke hearing strange sounds, squeals and pained whimpers. He sat up and shone the light on her; her hand was over her mouth, and tears were running down her temple from her closed eyes.

He hurried to her and crouched beside her, touching her head. "Oh Lilac, don't," he said. "Don't cry, Lilac, please don't." She was doing it, he thought, because he had hurt her, maybe internally.

She kept crying.

"Oh Lilac, I'm sorry!" he said. "I'm sorry, love! Oh Christ and Wei, I wish the gun had been working!"

She shook her head, holding her mouth.

"Isn't that why you're crying?" he said. "Because I hurt you? Then why? If you don't want to go with me, you don't really have to."

She shook her head again and kept crying.

He didn't know what to do. He stayed beside her, caressing her head and asking her why she was crying and telling her not to, and then he got his blankets, spread them alongside her, and lay down and turned her to him and held her. She kept crying, and he woke up and she was looking at him, lying on her side with her head propped on her hand. "It doesn't make sense for us to go separately," she said, "so we'll stay together."

He tried to recall what they had said before sleeping. As far as he could remember, nothing; she had been crying. "All right," he said, confused.

"I feel awful about the gun," she said. "How could I have done that? I was sure you had lied to King."

"I feel awful about what I did," he said.

"Don't," she said. "I don't blame you. It was perfectly natural. How's your hand?"

He took it out from under the blanket and flexed it; it hurt badly. "Not bad," he said.

She took it in her hand and looked at the bandage. "Did you spray it?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

She looked at him, still holding his hand. Her eyes were large and brown and morning-bright. "Did you really start for one of the islands and turn back?" she asked.

He nodded.

She smiled. "You're tres fou," she said.

"No I'm not," he said.

"You are," she said, and looked at his hand again. She took it to her lips and kissed his fingertips one by one.

4.

THEY DIDN'T GET STARTED until mid-morning, and then they rode quickly for a long while to make up for their laxness. It was an odd day, hazy and heavy-aired, the sky greenish gray and the sun a white disc that could be looked at with fully opened eyes. It was a freak of climate control; Lilac remembered a similar day in Chi when she was twelve or thirteen. ("Is that where you were born?" "No, I was born in Mex." "You were? I was too!") There were no shadows, and bikes coming toward them seemed to ride above the ground like cars. Members glanced at the sky apprehensively, and coming nearer, nodded without smiling.

When they were sitting on gra.s.s, sharing a container of c.o.ke, Chip said, "We'd better go slowly from now on. There are liable to be scanners in the path and we want to be able to pick the right moment for pa.s.sing them."

"Scanners because of us?" she said.

"Not necessarily," he said. "Just because it's the city nearest to one of the islands. Wouldn't you set up extra safeguards if you were Uni?"

He wasn't as much afraid of scanners as he was that a medical team might be waiting ahead.

"What if there are members watching for us?" she said. "Advisers or doctors, with pictures of us."

"It's not very likely after all this time," he said. "We'll have to take our chances. I've got the gun, and the knife too." He touched his pocket.

After a moment she said, "Would you use it?"

"Yes," he said. "I think so."

"I hope we don't have to," she said.

"So do I."

"You'd better put your sungla.s.ses on," she said.

"Today?" He looked at the sky.

"Because of your eye."

"Oh," he said. "Of course." He took his gla.s.ses out and put them on, looked at her and smiled. "There's not much that you can do," he said, "except exhale."

"What do you mean?" she said, then flushed and said, "They're not noticeable when I'm dressed."

"First thing I saw when I looked at you," he said. "First things I saw."

"I don't believe you," she said. "You're lying. You are. Aren't you?"

He laughed and poked her on the chin.

They rode slowly. There were no scanners in the path. No medical team stopped them.

All the bicycles in the area were new ones, but n.o.body remarked on their old ones.

By late afternoon they were in '12082. They rode to the west of the city, smelling the sea, watching the path ahead carefully.

They left their bikes in parkland and walked back to a canteen where there were steps leading down to the beach. The sea was far below them, spreading away smooth and blue, away and away into greenish-gray haze.

"Those members didn't touch," a child said.

Lilac's hand tightened on Chip's. "Keep going," he said. They walked down concrete steps jutting from rough cliff-face.

"Say, you there!" a member called, a man. "You two members!"

Chip squeezed Lilac's hand and they turned around. The member was standing behind the scanner at the top of the steps, holding the hand of a naked girl of five or six. She scratched her head with a red shovel, looking at them.

"Did you touch just now?" the member asked.

They looked at each other and at the member. "Of course we did," Chip said. "Yes, of course," Lilac said.

"It didn't say yes," the girl said.

"It did, sister," Chip said gravely. "If it hadn't we wouldn't have gone on, would we?" He looked at the member and let a smile show. The member bent and said something to the girl.

"No I didn't," she said.

"Come on," Chip said to Lilac, and they turned and walked downward again.

"Little hater," Lilac said, and Chip said, "Just keep going."

They went all the way down and stopped at the bottom to take off their sandals. Chip, bending, looked up: the member and the girl were gone; other members were coming down.

The beach was half empty under the strange hazy sky. Members sat and lay on blankets, many of them in their coveralls. They were silent or talked softly, and the music of the speakers-"Sunday, Fun Day"-sounded loud and unnatural. A group of children jumped rope by the water's edge: "Christ, Marx, Wood, and Wei, led us to this perfect day; Marx, Wood, Wei, and Christ-"

They walked westward, holding hands and holding their sandals. The narrow beach grew narrower, emptier. Ahead a scanner stood flanked by cliff and sea. Chip said, "I've never seen one on a beach before."

"Neither have I," Lilac said.

They looked at each other.

"This is the way we'll go," he said. "Later."

She nodded and they walked closer to the scanner.

"I've got a fou impulse to touch it," he said. "'Fight you, Uni; here I am.'"

"Don't you dare," she said.

"Don't worry," he said, "I won't."

They turned around and walked back to the center of the beach. They took their coveralls off, went into the water, and swam far out. Treading with their backs to the sea, they studied the sh.o.r.e beyond the scanner, the gray cliffs lessening away into greenish-gray haze. A bird flew from the cliffs, circled, and flew back. It disappeared, gone in a hairline cranny.

"There are probably caves where we can stay," Chip said.

A lifeguard whistled and waved at them. They swam back to the beach.

"It's five of five, members," the speakers said. "Litter and towels in the baskets, please. Be mindful of the members around you when you shake out your blankets."

They dressed, went back up the steps, and walked to the grove of trees where they had left their bikes. They carried them farther in and sat down to wait. Chip cleaned the compa.s.s and the flashlights and the knife, and Lilac packed the other things they had into a single bundle.

An hour or so after dark they went to the canteen and gathered a carton of cakes and drinks and went down to the beach again. They walked to the scanner and beyond it. The night was moonless and starless; the haze of the day was still above. In the water's lapping edge phosph.o.r.escent sparks glittered now and then; otherwise there was only darkness. Chip held the carton of cakes and drinks under his arm and shone his flashlight ahead of them every few moments. Lilac carried the blanket-bundle.

"Traders won't come ash.o.r.e on a night like this," she said.

"n.o.body else will be on the beach either," Chip said. "No s.e.x-wild twelve-year-olds. It's a good thing."