Orbit 13 - [Anthology]
Page 19
He was still smiling, his face half-turned as if in embarrassment, and when she frowned and looked down at herself, she saw she was naked. Quickly she pulled the coat to her chin, and exposed her legs. She tried to stretch it, but succeeded only in making him laugh.
“Here, take this, miss,” he said, pulling off his jacket and handing it to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Then added, unnecessarily, “I’m ... I’m cold.”
The man nodded and sat back on his heels to watch her intently. Though he looked only at her face, she became flustered by his stare. Her arms would not find the sleeves, her fingers slipped off the buttons. Finally, before she could recoil, he reached out and pulled the collar up around her neck.
“In case you’re wondering, I haven’t touched you.” The amusement in his tone made her glare, then turn away. “I only pulled you out of the surf, that’s all. Your clothes are still drying out. Over there. Please, miss. Don’t be afraid of me.”
She pointed at the bench a few feet away, her hand shaking. “Just . . . just sit over there, if you don’t mind.” She smiled quickly to try to ease the sudden hurt look on his face. “I ... I think I trust you, but I’m a little confused right now. I didn’t expect to see anyone here. Anywhere. Not ever.” And she cried.
The man leaned forward anxiously, but she waved him away. “I’ll be all right! Just let me be. Please.”
He nodded as if he understood, waiting until she looked up again.
“Jan,” he said.
“Linda.” When she smiled, he smiled back: a handshake without moving.
“You know this place, Linda?”
“I used to come here when I was little. Every summer rain or shine. My parents, they used to make a big thing of it, loading the car like we were going to California and never coming back! Such . . . such a big fuss just to get away, and when they died I just stopped coming. There was no point, you know? It just wasn’t worth it, the trip and all, you know what I mean? It ... I couldn’t ... I ... I was on vacation in Minnesota.”
He nodded, leaning back and putting his feet up on the peeling, twisted railing. “Me, too. Come here, I mean. Used to work the stand in the summer. Sold ice cream and hot dogs, worked a wheel or two, stuff like that. They were lousy jobs with lousy hours, but the pay was pretty good for a fresh young college kid like myself. Great times. Just great. Years ago it was, it seems.
“I was out in Kansas bumming around when it happened. Took me nearly a month to get back, most of the time sick as a dog, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes.” Her reply was so low, she had to repeat it.
“I wanted to come here. Here, of all places. Screwiest damn thing, but I just had to see if the lights were still working. That must mean something, I guess. I don’t know.
“I found some generators—they use, used them in case of power failures—and believe it or not, got a couple of them to work. So when I can keep it down, I manage to get hot things to eat, though I don’t know why I bother.”
Linda shuddered. “That coffee,” she said. “It’s the first thing that’s stayed down there in three days.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.”
He talked for a long time and his rather deep, pleasant voice relaxed Linda into a soothing, restful-half-doze. He explained how he had avoided the cities, and how he was nearly killed when a car he had stolen plunged into a frozen river in Pennsylvania. She didn’t ask and he didn’t tell her what he was doing when the war started and finished.
There was a village called Onslow and a radio broadcast that sent them into a community shelter. There were people: weeping, cursing, praying with folded hands and clenched fists; the graveyard sound of huge steel doors that clanged shut and locked in the darkness. There were three weeks of mourning before filtration systems overloaded and they decided they did not want a concrete coffin. The villagers went about their business, the vacationers scattered, racing to reach some place, somewhere, before time and the radiation stopped them . . .
“Hey!”
Linda blinked and saw Jan standing over her with her clothes. They were still damp and stiff with salt, but she put them on gratefully. He waited until she was dressed, then settled himself on a blanket behind her bench and closed his eyes.
“Your turn.”
“There’s nothing much, really. I was on vacation, and with no one to go to, I came here. I found plenty of gas in abandoned cars and luckily it was a warm ... I cried. I cried until I couldn’t do it anymore and just came here. Don’t ask me how I made it. I don’t know.” She paused, her hands twisting in her lap. “Jan? How long . . . how long will it be? Jan?”
He was asleep.
“Oh God, how can you do it?” she whispered.
Later, after the sky had gone from purple to black, she heard the sound of someone vomiting. She turned over, half asleep, and without knowing why, she whispered nursery rhymes to deafen her ears and was near the end of “The Owl and the Pussycat” when she fell asleep.
But the sound did not stop.
It was desert-bright when she awoke, smelling the salt air and something cooking. Jan was on the beach, huddled over a small fire with a pan of soup. He grinned broadly when she jumped down beside him, and handed her a partially cleaned spoon.
“It ain’t the Ritz, kiddo, but it’s hot. Eat it while I go wash up. Haven’t had much of an excuse till you came by. It’s good to feel...civilized for a change.”
“But—”
“Eat! I’ve already had some. Couldn’t eat a drop more.”
She knew he was lying, but didn’t protest. Cautiously she spooned the liquid into her mouth, holding her stomach and praying.
When she finished, they climbed back to the boardwalk, peering through the shadows at the times they had had when the sun was warm and the beach crowded. They discovered one stand that still had its wheel, and Jan leaped over the low barrier, beginning a mock spiel that echoed across the sand while Linda laughed. He ducked behind the wall and came up with a stained, badly torn towel whose color had vanished and flourished it over his head, cajoling her, winking, leering, trying to make her place a bet.
“Come on, lady, don’t be afraid. Everybody wins, everybody wins at the wheel. No tricks, no gimmicks, everybody wins and that’s a fact. Place your bets and say a prayer, whammy that wheel and everybody wins. Don’t be afraid. It’s only a game.”
Finally she pulled off her ring, her father’s ring, and placed it firmly on a faded number—there were only four. Jan spun the wheel, never stopping for a breath, shouting for the ghosts to come and watch the winner. The chattering made no sense, and faded into the sounds of a roller coaster and the sharp odors of over-spiced pizza and underdone hamburger. The wheel spun, clattered and stopped, paused and fell back one number.
She lost, but he bowed gallantly and returned the ring, winking and saying the game was fixed. It always was.
There were one or two stands still squatting in the cold ashes, but they stopped again only when they reached the huge, glassless double doors on the central arcade.
“How about a ride?” Jan asked, taking her by the arm.
Linda stared through the gashes of sunlight that drove shadows from the corners, and nodded. Inside the building the pinball machines lay crushed against the wall, and the floor, though gaping in spots, was cleared of debris. It looked like a mined church.
“I did it the first day I was here,” he said before she could ask. “The other places I didn’t much care about.”
The carousel was empty, its multicolored umbrella caved in and black. A tiny stirrup hung by a scrap of leather from a rust-locked metal support. Gently he took her hand in his and led her to the wheel. There was only one seat, a cage, left on the rim, and she balked when he tried to bring her closer. Jan frowned, then went to the large lever at the wheel’s base and, grunting, pulled it noisily toward him. An ear-shattering screech whipped through the building as the big machine shuddered, then lurched forward, and t
he cage disappeared through the mouth of the roof and into the washed-out sky. Linda hugged herself tightly as she watched the metal arms with no hands, and the metal hand with the basket. She started when he put an arm timidly around her waist, but followed his pointing finger.
“It’s the only one left, but really very safe. No kidding. They have generators. I think I told you already.” She remained silent and he pulled her forward, talking all the time. “Sorry I couldn’t do anything about the lights, but the bulbs are all smashed. It’s not as smooth as it once was, but it works. Ugly damn thing, isn’t it?”
“No,” she said, trying to look at Jan and the cage at the same time. “No, Jan, it’s beautiful.”
“Then ride with me. Please? I won’t try anything. I promise.” He grinned. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”
Linda turned and touched his cheek with her hand. “I know you won’t, Jan, but what if the engines—”
“They won’t, believe me. There’s enough fuel left for more than a dozen rides. Come on, take three with me and I promise we’ll get right off. No funny stuff. Okay?”
“Why not?” she said, then added softly, “It’s the best basket I can think of to go to hell in.”
“Okay, you ready? No, don’t stop it. Let’s jump in.”
She nodded and Jan ran to the wheel. When she followed, she could see that the cage door was missing as well as the wire in the windows. When it lumbered down again, she jumped first, pulling him in after her, then yanked the kerchief from her hair and threw it out the window. For a moment the sun blinded them and they gasped at the tidal rush of cold air.
On the first trip to the top the wheel jerked, swaying the cage, and she grabbed the sides in panic. But the ragged mouth of the roof swallowed them safely, and she leaned against Jan and watched the waves feed on the beach.
On the second trip she blinked . . . and saw the midway teeming with garish, neat, ill-dressed people gawking, eating, dragging half-asleep children. Dolls and unnaturally colored stuffed animals, candy apples and frozen melting custard were clutched to their chests while they were hypnotized by all the lights of the manmade night dream.
On the third turn Jan held her hand, saw what she saw . . . and baseball caps jammed down over pink ears, model planes, blue red white cotton candy, fringed holsters, shooting gallery with dripping gray candles and pockmarked ducks.
They had lost count of the revolutions when Linda suddenly leaned out the window while Jan held her waist and looked away. When it was over, she smiled weakly and he kissed her forehead while she cried.
Then the wheel shook and the boardwalk jarred, and they leaped from the cage when it reached the bottom.
Into the sunlight, and the people children games were gone.
They walked as far as they could away from the decaying amusement park, jumping to the beach only when there were gaps too wide to step over. Linda tripped over a loose plank, taking a long time to regain her feet while Jan walked on automatically, ignoring the splintering wood and damp sand.
Finally she lowered herself from the boardwalk and sat down. Jan dropped beside her, not touching her, and they watched the sun stretch their shadows to the water. The tide was out but the beach was still quite narrow, and quite deserted.
“Hey, Lin.” He twisted around until he faced her, his dark eyes mirroring the hollows of her drawn cheeks and temples. “Why did you come here? Tell me the truth, Lin. I can’t really explain it, but it’s important. I’ve got to know.”
She laughed tonelessly at the little-boy pleading from the fat-thin man’s face.
“The wheel, that’s all.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, Jan. Maybe it’s because I liked being able to see miles and miles from the very top. It was better than an airplane because there’re no clouds. And the people, they’re funny, you know?”
Jan nodded seriously.
“And . . . well, it was like you would never stop when you went all the way around again and again like that; and there was the view too. The people would never be the same every time you saw them.” She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them. “Sometimes someone would look ‘way up and point at you and laugh. I always laughed and pointed back, like I was shooting a cowboy gun or something.”
“I always stuck out my tongue. My brother . . . my brother told my dad about it once and he . . .” Jan clapped his hands and winced. “Linda, are you awfully tired?”
“Not awfully. Not yet anyway.”
“Would you like to go on a trip? I know where we can ride the biggest damn, excuse me, ferris wheel in the whole world. Well, at least the biggest one I’ve ever been on.”
She stared, not understanding, her eyes taking on the fear she had had when they first met. “But how can we, Jan?”
“It’s a secret.”
She shook her head hard. “No, Jan! I don’t want any secrets, not anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Lin, but I’m not crazy, you know. There are a million marinas around here, and somewhere there must be one boat that will work. If I can get those stupid generators to work, I can sure as hell start a dumb boat.”
“But where would we go?” There was a recklessness in her voice now, half-believing, half-hysterical. Not caring. “Where can we go?”
“Coney Island.”
“Oh Jan, Jan! We’d never make it. I can barely...”
“Nuts! All we do is stock some food I’ve got, run up the coast and hunt around until we find the stupid thing. It’s a pretty big place, you know. It can’t stay hidden forever.”
She sighed and stood up. slowly. Jan tried to follow but she put a hand on his shoulder, holding him down while she watched the waves.
“Jan,” she said, after a long, gray silence. “Do you find me . . . that is, do you think I’m pretty?”
Jan dug a sand trough with one finger, then pulled off his cap to twist in his hands. “I ... I suppose so.”
“Then why haven’t you . . . ? I know what you said before, but still . . .”
He squirmed but couldn’t shake off her hand.
“Morals?”
He tried to laugh, knowing she was mocking him, and he coughed violently instead. Then, the spasm past, she helped him to his feet and pulled off the ring.
“I kissed you on the wheel, you know.”
“Yes.” She smiled and shoved the ring into his hand, tugging at his arm until they were headed south again. The sun’s fading glare blinded them, made them weave a stumbling dance, tempted by the warm blackness beneath the boardwalk. The sea became loud, the almost colorless sky disturbingly near.
“I want to go,” she said suddenly. “Let’s hurry, Jan, please hurry.” And she began to run, leaving him to stare after her. Then he chased her, running slowly, panting.
“Hey, Linda!” he called, waving one hand over his head. “Hey, Linda, your ring!”
“You won, I lost, remember?” she shouted back over her shoulder.
“But . . .” He tried to increase his speed and nearly tripped over a broken shell. “But Linda, the thing was rigged. The damn game was crooked!”
“I know,” she laughed, and fell . . . and the wheel rolled colorfully through the dome, blinking red yellow blue and all the people were smiling; and when Jan picked her up and carried her, they could smell the cotton candy.
<
* * * *
Doris Piserchia
NAKED AND AFRAID I GO
LAST NIGHT I dreamed I took a grain of dirt and examined it with a super microscope. I could see a cell in the dirt. The chromosomes lay in a pattern that tapered to two familiar designs—XX. The earth was female. I screamed, I screamed, I screamed.
* * * *
She looked miserable, so I didn’t laugh, merely told her she was in a fine state of health and that the pregnancy should be a breeze. Her name was Rose Willis and she wasn’t one of my regular patients. She was attractive and young and probably worked as hard as any of
us when she wasn’t marching up and down Main Street with the man-haters. I showed her no reaction when she sat up on the examination table and called me a chauvinist pig stud.
Mean, mad and terrified, that’s what she was, and if it hadn’t been for the last part I would have matched her with the other two. As it was, I didn’t want her to leave while she felt so low. She was no infant, about twenty-one or two, but right then she looked as if she had been hit with a battle-ax.
Broke and hungry and afraid, she stayed to talk, rested on the table and told me things I didn’t believe. She said I was the fifth doctor she had seen, that none of the others would X-ray her to locate the tumor. They had told her the same thing I did—she had a growth, but it wasn’t the kind that would kill her. Would I X-ray her? Somebody had to do it, she said, and no matter what it turned out to be she would feel better just knowing.