Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [286]
Then the terror of the day and the danger of tomorrow, the slow, agonizing death of a world and the coming end of the Stronghold, could be forgotten in the frantic importance of each other. The passenger foot-well grew cluttered with clothing until Harvey broke off and dumped the whole armful behind the steering wheel. The passenger seat wasn't shaped for this, but they coupled with care and ingenuity, and maintained the position afterward: he half reclining in the passenger seat, she kneeling before him, her face above his. Their breath fell each on the other's cheek.
"I'm glad you thought of something," he said presently. (He couldn't say he loved her.)
"Ever screwed in a car before?"
He thought back. "Sure. I was more limber then."
"I never did."
"Well, generally you use the back seat, but … "
"The back seat's covered with broken glass," Marie finished, and they felt each other's tension as they remembered: a .50-caliber bullet, glass showering everywhere, Marie brushing the tiny splinters off him while he drove. But there was a way to forget.
And again, later, there was a way to forget, the same way repeated, with the same frantic urgency. They were not drawn to each other, he thought; they were thrust against each other in their fear of what was outside them. They made love with their ears cocked for gunfire; but they made love. Even when it's bad, it's good.
Harvey woke before dawn. He was covered with the blanket from the back seat, but he couldn't remember getting it. He lay awake, not moving, his thoughts confused.
"Hi," Marie said softly.
"Hi yourself. I thought you'd be asleep."
"Not for a while. You get some rest."
Harvey tried. But there were twinges from muscles he'd overused last night, and twinges from his conscience, which apparently hadn't been informed that he was a widower whose new girl had dropped him for an astronaut. To hell with that. But he still wasn't sleeping. "Oh, well," he said, and sat up. "We seem to have survived the night."
"I didn't work you that hard."
There might have been something false in his own laugh, or … she'd known him a long time. She turned toward him in the dark. "You're not worried about Gordie, are you? That's all over. He's got his new girl, and it doesn't need a judge to say a marriage is over. We didn't really need one before."
Harvey hadn't been thinking of Gordie. "What will you do now?" he asked. "When this is over? If?"
She laughed. "I won't stay a cook. But thank you for bringing me to this valley. It's been much better than anything I could have found for myself." She was quiet for a moment, and they heard a sound outside: an owl, and the squeal of the rabbit it had caught. "It's a man's world now," Marie said. "So I guess I'll just have to marry an important one. I've always been a status-conscious bitch, and I don't see any reason to change now. In fact, there's more reason than ever. Muscle counts. I'll find me a leader and marry him."
"And who would that be?"
She giggled. "After yesterday you're a leader. You're an important man." She slid across to him and put her arm around him. Then she laughed aloud. "What's got you so tense? Am I that terrifying?"
"Certainly." She was.
She laughed again. "Poor Harvey. I know exactly what you're thinking. Obligation. You've seduced the girl, and you ought to marry her, and you know damn well you can't resist if I really work at it … see?" Her hands moved to intimate places.
Living with Loretta hadn't readied him for this kind of warfare. He kissed her hard (she couldn't bluff Harvey Randall!) and maintained the kiss (because it felt so good, and hell, Maureen had her winged man) until she drew back.
"That wasn't very nice of me," she said. "Don't worry, Harv, I'm really not after you. It wouldn't work. You know me too well. No matter what we did, even if we really did learn to love each other, you'd always wonder about it. You'd wonder if it was all an act, wonder when I'd decide to drop it. And we'd fight, and play head games, and dominance games … "
"I