Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [144]
"Nice car," Eileen said. "Glad it has power steering."
"For a quarter of a million bucks it ought to have," Tim said. "Damn, that frosts me—"
Eileen giggled. "Best deal you ever made in your life." Or ever will make, she thought.
"It isn't the car." Tim's voice held hurt indignation. "It was the extra fifty thousand bucks he charged for gas and oil and a jack!" Then he laughed. "And the rope. Mustn't forget the rope. I'm glad he had extra. I wonder where he's going?"
Eileen didn't answer. They crested a hill and started down, around a bend. There were no more houses. Thick mud covered the road and she shifted into four-wheel drive. "I've never been in a car like this before."
"Me neither. Want me to drive?"
"No."
There was water at the bottom of the hill. It came up to the hubcaps, then up to the doors, and Eileen backed away. She drove carefully off the road and onto the embankment beside it. The car tilted dangerously toward the swirling dark water to their left. They went on, carefully and slowly. On their right were the ruins of new houses and condominiums, just far enough away so that they couldn't see any details. A few lights, flashlights and lanterns, moved among the wreckage. Tim wished he'd got a flashlight from the car dealer. They had a spotlight, but it needed to be mounted on the car, and wouldn't be any good until it was.
They went around the valley, staying just above the water, and eventually found the road again where it rose out of the flood. Eileen gratefully shifted gears.
The road twisted up into the mountains. They passed stopped cars. Someone darted out in front of the Blazer and gestured them to halt. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but he held a pistol in his hand. Eileen gunned the car toward him, making him dive off to the side, then she accelerated.
There were gunshots, and a crash of glass. Tim looked back in amazement at the neat round hole through the rear window, then above at the exit hole angling up through the roof. Rainwater ran in through the hole and dripped between them. Eileen floorboarded the car, roaring around the curve without braking, and the car had the feathery feeling of an imminent skid. She got around, braked for the next curve, then accelerated again.
Tim tried to laugh. "My new car."
"Shut up." She was leaning forward against the wheel. "You all right?"
"No."
"Eileen!"
"I'm not hit. I'm scared. I've got the shakes."
"Me too," he said, but he felt waves of relief wash over him. There had been that tiny moment, only an instant really, when he thought she'd been hit. It had been the most terrifying moment of his life. Now that struck him as strange; because he hadn't seen her since she turned down his proposal. Of course not. He had his pride—
"Tim, there are bridges ahead, and we're getting closer to the Fault! The road may be gone!" She was shouting.
"Not much we can do about it."
"No, we can't go back." She slowed for another curve, then accelerated again. She was still strangling the wheel. She was going to wreck them if she didn't calm down, and he couldn't think of a thing to do about it.
The road was often blocked by mudslides, and Eileen, finally, had slowed to a crawl. Once they took half an hour to get fifty feet. Now, whenever they came to a clear section of road, Tim wished that she would drive faster. But she didn't; she kept the car in first or second gear, and never drove faster than twenty miles an hour, even when the headlights showed long clear stretches.
They drove on interminably. Eventually Tim stuffed his handkerchief into the hole in the roof.
Tim's watch showed 8 P.M., twilight time for Los Angeles June, but it was as black as ink outside. Rain fell intermittently. The windshield wipers in the Blazer were very good, and Stimms had showed them how to fill the washers. Eileen used