The Nightworld - Jack Blaine [54]
The government men have followed us somehow. I know that it seems silly to think that just because they have walkie-talkies that they’re the same guys—but I know. I just know. They’re looking for the device. I know we’re dead if they find us.
I squeeze Lara’s hand and turn to look at her. She’s looking back, and I can see some of the fear she’s feeling. But I see something else too, something like . . . focus, I guess. She’s right here. With me. And she’s telling me that, with her eyes, with the pressure of her hand. I gather myself and try to let her know the same thing. If we die here, I want her to know I was with her.
The car engine hums louder, and we can hear that it’s gaining some speed. After a couple of seconds, I risk peeking out again, and I see its taillights heading uphill, away from us. I wait, frozen, until it disappears from sight over the hill. Then I let out my breath.
“They might double back. Let’s just sit here for a few minutes.” Lara sounds as relieved as I feel.
“Better yet, let’s just camp here for the night.” I look around at our cover. The three trees and the building will hide us pretty well from almost all angles. As long as we don’t light a fire, we should be able to sleep here safely.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Lara relaxes against the building.
After about fifteen minutes, we decide it might be safe to get some stuff from the bike. I grab our packs and Lara unstraps Tank. She loops the end of the strapping through his collar. “Last thing we need is for him to run off sniffing.”
“Good thinking. He might, and then we’d be in trouble.” I watch as she takes him to the edge of the tree cover and waits for him to pee. Then they come back to the back of the building. I spread the sleeping bag out and we all sit on it. We manage to assemble a half-decent dinner of cold canned chicken soup and some more water for all of us, including Tank. We make our bed as well as we can, and Tank snuggles in with us. I look up at the sky.
“I don’t know the last time I saw the moon,” I say. “The cloud cover seems to be permanent.”
“I wonder,” whispers Lara, “what really is permanent now. “ She sounds weary. “Is it always going to be dark?”
“I hope not,” I say. Tank groans, as though he’s telling us both to keep it down. Lara laughs.
“I guess we’d better go to sleep. Tank’s trying to get his rest.”
“Good night,” I say, and before I know what I’m doing, I lean over and kiss her. I mean it to be a soft, good-night sort of kiss, but it turns into a melting, throbbing sort of kiss that radiates throughout my body. She kisses me right back, with so much heat that I finally have to push her away. I know we’re both wishing we were in a place where we could lose ourselves to the feelings we’re having. But we’re not. I pull up on one elbow and swallow.
“Sorry.” I feel a little embarrassed.
“Sorry for what?”
“Well, maybe, I shouldn’t . . .”
“I feel the same way you do, Nick.” I can see Lara’s eyes glittering in the dark. “Don’t be sorry. But you’re right, we’d better get some rest, because we have a long way to go yet.”
I nod. “Want to spoon instead?”
Lara laughs. “I do want to spoon.” She rolls over so I can hold her and we make our bodies fit together. It’s warm, and I’m almost happy.
Chapter 30
In the morning after we pack the bike back up, Lara produces a couple of washcloths and pronounces that she feels too grubby for words.
“I have to at least wash behind my ears.” She makes a face. “We have enough water to last until we get there, if we’re careful.”
“Washcloths?” I ask her with a raised eyebrow.
She shrugs. “I figured we might need them.”
I’m still pondering the workings of her mind—washcloths and an extra clip of ammo—when she pours half a bottle of water on hers. She hands me the bottle.
“I’m off to have a little privacy,” she says. “Keep Tank with you, okay?”
“Don’t go too far. And don’t get in sight of the road.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know. Be right