Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [145]
As they rounded a sharp curve, the headlights showed empty space in front of them. Eileen braked, hard, and brought the car to a stop. The headlights bored small holes in the rainy dark, but there was enough light to show a jagged end to the road.
Tim got out in the rain and went toward the edge. When he saw where he stood he gulped, hard, and went back to the driver's side. "Back up, slow," he commanded.
She started to ask why, but the urgent fear in his voice stopped her. Carefully she put the car into reverse and crawled back. "Get back there and guide me, damn you!" she shouted.
"Sorry." Tim walked back behind the car and guided her with gestures. Finally he made chopping motions.
She switched off the ignition and got out to see where they'd been. The bridge had been a slender concrete arch spanning a deep gorge. The bridge had fallen in the center, and they'd been well onto it before she stopped. Now they were back on solid ground.
They could see nothing. To the left they felt the loom of a flint-and-granite cliff rising high above them. On the right, beyond a broad earth hump, was a steep drop into nothing. Ahead was the ruined bridge.
There were no lights anywhere, and no sounds except howling wind driving the rain, and far below, sounds of rushing water.
"End of the line?" Eileen said.
"I don't know. It's a cinch we can't do anything about it tonight. I guess we stay here until daylight."
"If there's ever any daylight again," she said. She frowned, and began walking up the road. Tim didn't follow. He stood, exhausted, wanting to get back into the car, but reluctant to do it until she came back. Somehow it would have been cowardly to sit in the car out of the rain while she tramped up the road, looking for … for what? Tim wondered. Finally she came back and got in. Tim went around and joined her.
She began backing up, slowly, this time without his help. She went on and on, and Tim wanted to ask what she was doing, but he was too tired. She had made a decision, and that was good, because he didn't have to. Eventually she came to a wide gravel patch to the left side of the road and carefully backed into it so that the car was off the pavement entirely. "I don't like it," she said. "There might be a mudslide. But I'd rather be here than on the road. Suppose someone else comes."
"No one will."
"Probably. Anyway, we're here."
"Beer?" Tim asked.
"Sure."
He took two cans from the six-pack the car salesman had thrown in. He opened one and started to throw the pull tab away.
"Save that."
"Huh? Why?"
"Save everything," Eileen said. "We don't have much. I don't know what we can use those for, but we'll never get more of them. Save it. Cans, too. Don't crush them."
"Okay. Here."
The beer was lukewarm, like the rain outside. They had nothing else. Nothing to eat, and the rain outside was mildly salty. Tim wondered if they could drink it safely. Pretty soon they'd have to.
"At least it's warm," Tim said. "We won't freeze, even at this altitude." His clothes were damp, and it wasn't really very warm. He wished they'd saved the old raincoat from the first car. For a moment Tim thought about the Chrysler's owner. Had they killed him by taking his car? That wasn't something to think about. What was?
"Do we save this or drink it up and be done with it?" Tim asked.
"Better save at least two," Eileen said. Her voice was wooden and emotionless, and Tim wondered if he sounded that way to her. Wordlessly he opened another pair of cans and they drank that.
Two cans of beer, on an empty stomach, after the day's excitement: Tim found that it had more effect than he could have believed. He almost felt human again. He knew it wouldn't last, but for the moment there was a warm feeling in his stomach and a lightness in his head. He looked toward Eileen. He couldn't see her in the dark. She was only a shape on the seat beside him. He listened to the rain for a few moments longer, then reached for her.
She sat stiffly, not moving, neither pushing him away nor responding. Tim moved against her on the seat. His