Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [130]
"Harv?"
He didn't answer.
"Harv, it's Mark. My God, man, what happened!"
"Don't know. Raiders."
He had almost dozed off when Mark spoke again. "You all right, Harv?"
"I wasn't here. I was interviewing a goddam professor at UCLA and I was in a traffic jam and I was … I wasn't here. Leave me alone."
Mark shifted from one foot to the other. He wandered around the bedroom, looking into closets. "Harv, we've got to get out of here. You and your damn hot fudge sundae. The whole L.A. basin is under the ocean, you know that?"
"She wanted me to stay. She was scared," said Harvey. He tried to think of some way to make Mark go away. "Get out and leave me alone."
"Can't, Harv. We have to bury your old lady. Got a shovel?"
"Oh." Harvey opened his eyes. The room was still lit by surrealistic strobe lighting. Funny he didn't notice the thunder anymore. He got up. "There's one out in the garage, I think. Thanks."
They dug in the backyard. Harvey wanted to do it all, but he ran out of energy quickly, and Mark took over. The shovel made squishing sounds; the hard adobe was soaking faster than Mark could dig. Squish. Plop. Squish. Plop. And rolling thunder.
"Time?" Mark called. He was standing in a waist-deep hole, his boots nearly underwater.
"Noon."
Harvey looked around, startled at the voice from behind him. Joanna was perched above them on the slope, rain running down her face. She held a shotgun, and she looked very alert.
"Deep enough," Mark said. "Stay here, Harv. Jo, let's go inside. Give Harv the shotgun."
"Right." She came down from the slope, a tiny figure with a big shotgun. She handed it to Harvey without a word.
He stood in the rain, standing guard by looking down into an empty grave. If someone had come up behind him, he wouldn't have noticed. Or cared. Except that he did notice Mark and Joanna.
Big Mark and tiny Joanna, carrying a blanketed bundle. Harvey went over to help her carry, but he was too late. They lowered her into the grave. Water flowed up and around the blanket. It was an electric blanket, Harvey saw. Loretta's electric blanket. She could never stay warm enough at night.
Mark took the shovel. Joanna took the shotgun. Mark shoveled steadily. Squish. Plop. Harvey tried to think of something to say, but there weren't any words. Finally, "Thanks."
"Yeah. You want to read any words?"
"I ought to," Harvey said. He started toward the house, but he couldn't go in.
"Here. This was in the bedroom," Joanna said. She took a small book out of her pocket.
It was Andy's confirmation prayer book; Loretta must have included that in her survival kit. She would have. Harvey opened it to the prayers for the dead. Rain soaked the page before he could read it, but he found a line, half read and half remembered. "Eternal rest grant her, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon her." He couldn't see any more. After a long time Mark and Joanna led Harvey into the house.
They sat at the kitchen table. "We don't have long," Mark said. "I think we saw your raiders."
"They killed Frank Stoner," Joanna added.
"Who?" Harvey demanded. "What did they look like? Can we track the bastards?"
"Tell you later," Mark said. "First we get packed up and moving."
"You'll tell me now."
"No."
Joanna had rested the shotgun against the table. Harvey picked it up, calmly, and checked the loads. He pulled one outside hammer back. His firearms training was excellent: He didn't point it at anyone. "I want to know," Harvey Randall said.
"They were bikers," Joanna said quickly. "Half a dozen of them riding escort with a big blue van. We saw them turn out of Fox Lane."
"Those bastards," Harvey said. "I know where they live. Short side street, half a mile from here. The street's half a block long. They repainted the sign to read 'Snow Mountain'."