Time spike

by Eric Flint

  And the damn thing was showing no signs of going away. He was sure she knew it, too, since his groin was pressed right against her. He felt like a jackass, but he just plain couldn't help himself. His body was paying no attention to the fierce commands he was sending down. She hadn't said anything, though. Hopefully, he could just keep pretending it wasn't happening. It was a crazy reaction, as well as an embarrassing one. Here he was, in one of the most dangerous situations he'd ever faced, and all he could think about was the girl pressed against him. But that was instinct again, he supposed. He'd read somewhere that the imminence of death tended to make people get really horny. At the time, he'd thought that was weird and hadn't really believed it. But he believed it now. Trying to take his mind away, he listened to what was happening outside their cocoon. He couldn't really tell. They'd stopped, very briefly, half a minute or so back, but they were moving again. The blanket and sheets around them didn't block off sound, as such, but they muffled everything. He could tell that people were talking to each other, but he couldn't make out the words. Was that the sound of a gate being opened? He thought so. He wasn't positive, but he thought so. "I think it's working," Elaine whispered. "Yeah, me too." "Tell me when you think we're through. And nobody can possibly hear us. I got things I want to say. Without worrying about having to be so quiet." "Sure, lady." "That's the first thing. Don't call me that." "Sorry. I didn't mean-" "I know that. I just don't like it because it's so formal." She issued something that sounded like a suppressed giggle. "Which is really silly, given the situation." Theywere through. There was a sudden little high-pitched metallic squeal. One of the gates always squealed like that, when it was about halfway open. A slight dent in one of the hinges, probably.

  "Okay," he whispered. "We're through. But wait a couple of minutes. We still have to get through the holding area before we're all the way outside. There might be a guard in there." There were four guards stationed in the holding area, as it happened. But none of them were there any longer. Not with Danny Bostic ranging ahead, spreading the word. All four of them were now in the guardhouse, watching through the window. And standing about three feet back from the window. Just in case. "No, dammit!" Luff snapped. "I'm not worried about the fucking gate. Use your brains, Haggerty. We musta shot, what? Fifty guys there? Won't be nobody we're looking for stupid enough to try another break. They're all hiding somewhere. I want 'em rooted out."

  He leaned over the diagram spread across the big workbench in the machine shop. "Now pay attention. Since Bostic's off somewhere, I'm putting you in charge of Operation Caduceus." "Cadoo… what?"

  Luff's lips tightened. Where the hellwas Danny Bostic? At least the man had read a book or two. "Never mind, Haggerty. Operation Double Snake, how's that?" He took one of the triangular carbide tool bits he'd found in a drawer near the lathe and moved it across the big diagram to the location that marked the infirmary. "This is Larrocha's squad. They should be done with A-block by now. They search the infirmary. Top to bottom. And tell 'em to be on their toes. I think Cook's probably in there with the rest of Boomer's boys. It'd be a natural hiding place for him." He moved another tool bit next to it.

  "That's Ollie and his guys. They're backup. If Cook's there, I want him shot dead on the spot. But don't kill any of the others unless you have to. Especially don't kill Boyne. Without the Boom and Cook, we can control Boyne-and we're still gonna need those fucks to get rid of bodies for us. In fact, they'll be doing a landslide business. So if they're there, and after they're rounded up, Ollie and his guys march them back to their cells and stay there, watching them. Got all that?"

  Haggerty nodded. "Good." He took a third tool bit and moved it to the infirmary also. "And that's Zimmerman's squad. They watch Larrocha while he and his guys search. I catch anybody stealing shit from the infirmary, the blade's coming down. Make that clear to everybody."

  Luff stood up straight, studying the whole diagram. "It's going pretty damn well. The best thing about today is that it finally gave us a chance to get rid of all the gang bosses. Cook's about the only loose end left. By this time tomorrow, we'll be in complete and total charge. Some sanity can be established." "We're clear," James whispered. "By now, we're at least thirty yards out into the open. But keep it quiet, just to be safe." "I would anyway. This is between you and me. First, I got a question." "What is it?" "Why'd you get sent up?" He thought about telling her the truth. No, she'd think it was a lie. Better-for now, anyway-to just say it… Neutrally, so to speak. "Second degree murder. I got in a bar fight and the guy died afterward." "A little more detail." He sighed. "He provoked the fight, not me. But if I hadn't been drunk, I would've just walked away before it got that far. I got a problem with my temper, sometimes, when I've had too much to drink. But even after the fight started, I wasn't trying to do anything more than whip him." She was silent, for a few seconds. "Okay. I can deal with that. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't something, you know… Sicko." He almost chuckled. "Uh, lady-Elaine. Second degree murder's not exactly considered a misdemeanor." "Yeah, sure. But it's not sicko. My cousin Eddie almost did the same thing. He got lucky, because the other guy didn't die.

  Not quite. But he's still serving time." Her body shifted a little. By now, they were both suffering from long immobility, and she had an aching wound to boot. But Elaine was still being careful. No one outside the wrappings would have noticed the slight motion-and their bodies were shifting back and forth anyway, because of the swaying of the litter. "I'm not a fairy-tale princess, born and raised in Disneyland. My family's just one generation away-thanks to my dad, who got a decent factory job and then worked his ass off-from dirt poor Cairo black people. That's not Cairo, Egypt, neither. It's Cairo, Illinois. You ever been there?" "No. I know where it is, but I've never visited." "Don't bother. Unless you got a thing for rusted out old cars and cheap trailers on cinder blocks." This time, he did chuckle. "Not much chance of that, these days." "Tell me about it.

  That leads to my next question. Do you have a girl?" "Inprison? Look, whatever you may have heard, not all convicts-" "I didn't mean it that way. Sorry. What I meant was, did you have… Is there anybody you're pining after, so to speak? You know, the girl you left behind."

  He couldn't figure out where she was going with all this. "No. I broke up with the girlfriend I had-well, she broke up with me-not long before the fight. Part of the reason I was in such a bad mood, that Friday night." Again, her body shifted a little. Impossibly as it seemed, she was pressing against him even more closely. "Good. That makes everything easy. Well, James Cook, you got a girl now. And I'm giving you fair warning. I catch you fooling around with any other woman, you'll wish you'd never been born." He stared at nothing. There was a little open shell around their faces, but the blanket wasn't more than an inch or two away at any point. Bostic had wrapped the entire thing around their heads. It wasn't quite what you'd call pitch dark, but almost. That was too bad, because he really wanted to be able to look at her face. Badly. "You don't even know me, Elaine."

  "That's true. But if we survive, I'll have plenty for time for that.

  Right now, I'm concentrating on the basics." James didn't know what to say. For one of the very few times in his life-the only time, actually, that he could remember-he was literally struck speechless.

  He didn't even entertain the possibility that the woman might be joking. He didn't know Elaine Brown, either, but somehow he knew she wasn't kidding at all. Which… Was pretty basic knowledge, now that he thought about it. In a world full of rampaging felons, conquistadores and giant reptiles. "I spent eight days down there," she murmured. "The worst eight days of my life. Not even that. Days that were worse than anything I could have imagined, before it happened. I never really thought I had a chance, all that time, but I just set that aside. And every day-every hour-I promised myself that if I did survive, I would never again, not ever in my life, waste a single moment on bullshit. And I was never much of one for bullshit in the first place." He still didn't know what to say. She
giggled. And didn't try to suppress it, this time. "Speaking of bullshit, are you really going to tell me that's a gun in your pocket? I might even believe it, almost. Seeing as it's now been solid as a rock for longer than any hard-on I ever saw. Or even heard about from my girlfriend Sara, who saw a lot more than I did." Incredibly, he felt a stab of jealousy, at the thought of her and another man's- Was he going as nuts as the girl? "Well. Answer me." There was something relentless about the little woman. "Isit a gun in your pocket?" He probably flushed. And, for a very brief moment, was thankful for the darkness.

  "No, it's not. But look, lady-Elaine. You can't make… I mean, I've been locked up for…" He was fumbling all over the place. And the more he fumbled, the more he realized he was fumbling in bullshit.

  He'dnever had this reaction to a woman. Not even when he'd been a teenager with his tongue hanging out at every pretty girl who walked by and had gone without sex for a lot longer than he had since he got in trouble in the bar brawl. "I intend to stay alive, James Cook. Do my very, very best. And help anyone else I can to do the same who deserves to. I've got no time any more for fooling around. I need a man, in a world full of monsters. I want a man. And you're him." "You don't know me-" "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whether you're the perfect man for me. You probably aren't. I can tell you right now I'll ride herd on you about the liquor. I'd hate liquor even if my church wasn't against it. I've seen way too many people get fucked up that way." That wasn't a problem. James hadn't had a drink since the fight. And had promised himself he never would again, either. He'd seen way too much of that himself, starting with his father and two of his uncles. All of whom had spent some time in prison, and always for something involving booze. "But it doesn't matter what faults you have, James. We all have faults. As long as there isn't anything just plain twisted inside of you-that's why I asked the first question, just to be sure-I'll deal with whatever else I have to." "I don't actually have too many faults, I think. No more'n usual, anyway. My temper's fine when I'm sober." Honesty made him add: "Okay, I'm probably too jealous. That's why my girlfriend broke up with me, and… Well. She had at least some right on her side." "Won't be no problem. I never played around even as a girl. And I get pretty possessive myself. Now, in this world…" He could feel her head shake a little. "You really don't understand, James. I don't think anyone could, who didn't go through those eight days. It wouldn't matter if, tomorrow, I did meet my 'perfect man.' The handsomest man in the world, smarter'n Einstein, sunnier than the sun, you name it."

  She nuzzled him softly. "All the things you aren't, exactly." He would have chuckled, except the nuzzle paralyzed him. Sent a spike right down from his skull to his toes. She shook her head again. "They still wouldn't be the man who came down to hell and got me out. No man ever will, except you, even if I live to be a hundred. Which I might, if the dinosaurs don't get me. Women in my family live a long time, if they stay away from liquor." From the feel of her head, he thought she was looking at him. He couldn't wait until he could finally look into those dark eyes again. The feeling was almost scary. Except it was too exhilarating. "You ever hear where little ducklings-or maybe it's chicklets-get imprinted by the first thing they see when they come out of the shell? Whatever it is, that's momma." "Yeah," he said. "Don't know if it's true." "Well, it's true with me. Like it or not, fella, you done went and imprinted yourself on me, down in that basement of hell. James Cook. My man. Way it is. Get used to it." He laughed outright, then. They had to be far enough away from the prison, by now. And he couldn't possibly have contained it anyway. *** Danny Bostic was genuinely fascinated, by the time they got well into the woods and could stop to set down the litter. Had Cook managed to getlaid in there? It sounded like it, between his laughter and the happy little noises the girl was making. Apparently not. At least, when they cut away the tape and unwrapped the sheets, all the clothes seemed to be in order. And he'd forgotten about the girl's stab wound. As passionate as she might be, there was no way she'd have been able to have sex. Not and be smiling at the man like that afterward. Still, it was impressive. For at least twenty seconds after the blanket was removed, the two of them just stared each other in the eyes, both smiling from ear to ear, as if they'd met for the first time and fallen instantly in love. Cook's smile was the first honest-to-God expression he'd ever seen on the Indian's face. And Brown's smile… He had to look away. The temptation to break the deal and snatch the girl got almost overwhelming, for a moment.

  Because he looked away, he saw the expressions on the faces of Boyne and the other Boomers. They were staring at their boss, with their eyes almost bulging. Who would've guessed he was this much of a ladies' man? "Does anyone know the location of the nearest jewelry store?" Brown asked brightly. She finally took her eyes off Cook and looked up at the other men standing around. Still smiling from ear to ear, even if the smile didn't have the same laser intensity. "We need engagement rings. Mr. Cook proposed to me in the course of our little journey, and I accepted." "Well, Jesus," said John Boyne. "Jesus H.

  Christ." He shook his head, as if clearing away confusion, and looked at Cook. "Is that true, boss?" Cook was still looking at Brown.

  "Yeah," he said. Then, like a startled rabbit, he looked up at his lieutenant. "By God, it is true." With Cook, of course, sentimental moments couldn't be expected to last long. Less than a minute later, he was back on his feet. Back in charge, with that inscrutable Injun look on his face. He and Danny studied each other for a moment. "Which way are you going?" Danny asked. "I don't know." Cook looked down at the girl on the litter. "Elaine?" She seemed uncertain. "Well, it's hard to explain easily. The directions I have are a little complicated." "Never mind the complications," Danny said. "Which waynow?" "Oh." She pointed a finger at one section of the woods.

  Which didn't look any different from any other. "That way." "Fine.

  Then I think it's best if we head the other way. We don't have a specific destination in mind, so it really doesn't matter." Danny gave Cook a little salute and started to turn. But a stray and ridiculous thought bloomed into focus. Maybe not so ridiculous. He hesitated.

  What the hell. If nothing else, it was a little funny. Not much, but a little. And while it had seemed like a good idea, at the time, to bring a back-up pistol, he was loaded down heavy as it was. With each step he took, the idea seemed less and less bright. He drew the pistol from his waistband. With his left hand, not his right. Then, he shifted it so that he was holding it by the barrel instead of the grip. No point in setting off tight nerves at the very end. "Here, Cook." He extended the gun, butt first. "Take it. It's got a full clip." Cook came over, and took the gun. "Why?" he asked quietly.

  "First, a deal. Give us ten minutes before you leave. I'd just as soon know we're well out of sight. It's not that I think you're a double-crosser, it's just…" "I understand. 'Good fences makes good neighbors,' as they say." Cook nodded. "No problem. You can have twenty. It'll take us that long to adjust the litter so it's comfortable for Elaine on a long trip. Second?" Danny shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not sure. But you never know. We might meet up again someday. If and when we do, remember this." For a few seconds after he was gone, James stared at the pistol Bostic had left behind. Boyne came over. "Funny damn thing for him to do." "He's thinking ahead, John," James said, almost musingly. "Way, way ahead." He understood, he thought, Bostic's plans. He wasn't thinking like a con. Most cons would go out there figuring to rob. Bostic was figuring to rule. Find some tribe of primitive Indians, kill or intimidate the existing leaders, and take over. So far, most hardened criminals could have followed the logic. But Bostic parted company with them here. He knew that a tribe-call it a gang, call it whatever-needed rules. They might be tough rules, for the ones on the bottom, but they were still rules.

  Not caprice, not whimsy, not just whatever struck the Big Man's fancy come Tuesday morning or a spot of indigestion. Rules. Then, give it some time, he wouldn't have to watch his back every night and day.

  He'd have men doing it
for him, because they damn well thought it was the right thing to do. He was the chief-maybe, someday, even the king-not just a thug running things until a tougher thug could do him in. In the end, it had been that as much as James' threat that had kept him from taking Elaine. Whether the man understood it consciously or not, he'd sensed that starting his new life by breaking the rules would send him off at a tangent. The same reason he'd given James the gun. He didn't really need it, the Boomers sure as hell did-and he'd just laid the basis, maybe, for an alliance someday. A truce, at least. "Smart man," James murmured. "Hard and cold as nails, but smart. Even ethical, in his own way, if you're willing to stretch the term. Too bad he wasn't running the show instead of Luff." Boyne looked skeptical. "I dunno, boss. For all his fancy talk about honor among thieves, he double-crossed Williams, didn't he? In a heartbeat.

  I betcha he shot him in the back, too." John was wrong, but explaining why would be difficult. It was a subtle matter, and James could only grope at the edges himself. That Danny Bostic had his ethics, he didn't doubt any longer. But they'd be razor thin, without any of the plush and comfortable padding that people in a law-abiding society gave each other. That was mandated by law, in fact. The way Bostic looked at things, Williams had double-crossedhim when his lust and stupidity had almost triggered off a deadly brawl. The moment he did that, Bostic would have removed the man's protection. He'd gone instantly fromone my loyal vassals toa problem to be removed. James smiled thinly. Removed his lord's grace, you might better call it.

  Yes, it was too bad that Bostic hadn't been running the show instead of Luff. But James still wouldn't want to live under his rule. It'd be like walking on thin ice from dawn to dusk, and egg shells through the evening until the lord went to bed. But there was no point debating the matter with John. Not now, for sure. He shoved the pistol into his waistband. Later on, they'd have to figure out who was the best man to carry it. That wouldn't be James himself. He'd never been into guns, the way some people were. He knew how to use one, but that was about it. One of the Boomers was bound to be good with a pistol. He was a little startled, then, when he realized that he'd given no thought at all to keeping the gun just to make sure his authority wasn't challenged. He didn't need to. That was just a fact, by now. So thoroughly engrained that he hadn't even thought about it. He looked around, at his men. Three of the Boomers were fussing over Elaine, giving her water, asking her how she was. But it was the actions of loyal men tending to the lady, not guys angling for her themselves. He realized that he also hadn't given any thought at all to how the Boomers would react when they realized that the one and only woman among them had just been separated out-and by the boss himself. That could have easily triggered off deep resentment. Instead it had done the opposite. It seemed to settle them down a little. He knew his uncle had been wrong. There were lots of men behind bars, hiding the fact beneath animal masks. Boomer had known it too, on some level, and known how to select them. These were men who, deep down, wanted nothing so much as a place of their own. Being part of a society again instead of a pack of wolves that you had to watch every moment. You might sleep alone, at night, for a while. But at least you could sleep. This might be the best day of his life, he realized suddenly.