Panic!

looked at myself in the mirror and I thought: You’re a lesbian now, too, you’re turning into a lesbian just like Kelly. Then I went and vomited in the toilet, because I don’t want to be a lesbian, I want to be normal, but I liked it with Kelly, I liked it every time, I liked it as much as I liked making love with Don. I knew I had to do something, I knew I had to stop myself before it was too late, divorce myself from Kelly and from New York, from everything that was turning me into what I didn’t want to be turned into. I had to be alone, I had to have time to think, I had to plan for the future—just me, just Jana, keeping her mind occupied with things, and maybe if enough time goes by I’ll be all right again, maybe if I don’t let myself get involved with anyone, not with anyone, because I think I’m a lesbian now and if I am I’ll reject any man, I’ll be frigid with any man who tries to make love to me and if I have anything to do with a woman no matter how casual maybe I’ll try to seduce her or maybe I’ll let her seduce me, and then I’ll know for sure, I’ll know, and I can’t face it yet, maybe not ever. I’ve got to be alone, I’ve got to be alone ...”

The tape had run out now, and Jana’s eyes lost some of their glassy quality. Lennox shook her again, less sharply this time, and when he was sure his words would penetrate, he said, “Jana, listen to me, you’re all right now, don’t you see that? You’re free now. You broke away, and that proves—”

“It proves nothing. It’s not Kelly and it’s not New York any more. It’s me I’m afraid of, it’s me I can’t face.” She began to tremble, violently, and the cold wind was only a small part of the cause; her teeth chattered with little hollow clicking sounds. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me ...”

Lennox put his arms all the way around her, drawing her close. “Jana,” he said, “Jana.”

She could feel the warmth of him, the solidity of him, she could feel his breath against her hair, the way his hands moved on her arms and her back, she could hear his soft, gentle voice. The tremoring began to subside, slowly, but there was something else now, a sensation, a curious inner quivering. “No,” she said. “Oh no.”

“It’s all right,” Lennox whispered. “Jana, it’s all right.”

“Oh my God, no, no.”

Caressing, warm, solid, male, touching her, holding her, no, no, the thought there in her mind, growing, spreading, beginning to command, no no no, and the embers stirring and the fires sparking, a tightness in her chest, a catch to her breathing, a flowing warmth in her loins, oh no oh no, and she wants to pull free of his arms, she doesn’t want this to happen, she can’t let it happen, but he is so warm, his touch is so gentle, she is safe but no, no! she can’t let it happen, she can’t know, but it is happening, does that in itself mean something and is that enough, it is happening inside her, she is letting it happen, she wants it, she wants him, she wants him, him, him, him

and Lennox holds her, rocking, whispering, and he has never known a tenderness like the one which he feels for this girl, this victim, this kin, her body is soft against his and she is still trembling but it is a different kind of trembling now, somehow he senses that and he holds her tighter and she says, “No, oh please,” and her arms go around him and she is holding onto him now, too, she is pressing against him and moving against him and they fall sideways into the dust and fit their bodies tightly to one another, clinging, clinging

and Jana presses her face to the side of his neck, not wanting to press her face there, his pulse beat is soft and irregular against her ear, and she moves her hands along his back, not wanting to move them, and moves her hips against him, not wanting to move them, I don’t want this, she thinks, I don’t want this, and her loins are hungry and eager for the first sign of his arousal

and Lennox becomes aware of her body now, moving, the rippling of her muscles under his fingers, and he understands, he understands what must be happening inside her, the confusion, he doesn’t want to hurt her but he doesn’t know what will hurt her the most—capitulation or rejection, he wants to help, he wants to reassure her, he knows she is normal, he feels it, he has to communicate it to her and there is really only one way now, but he is so tired, the toll of the past two days has been too great, he can’t, and he focuses on her movements, on her body, and his hand slips down and touches her buttocks and then he is lengthening, growing, impossibly and wondrously coming alive

and Jana feels him erect against her, oh no, no, and her hips move faster under his hand now, under his hand, I don’t want this, “No, please no,” and she is burning, she is burning, Love me, no, love me love me love me

and Lennox says her name, “Jana,” and hears her moaning and wants her desperately and his fingers on her clothing are deft, quick, gentle

and Jana helps him, helps them both, the wind blowing cold over naked flesh, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her lips saying “No” and her mind saying Yes, yes! and she is afraid, she is terrified, but he is whispering to her now, calming her, stroking her, and the fire, the need, the need

and they are one, murmuring, clinging, moving, and it is savage, it is tender—together, reaching upward, reaching the zenith, together, together, it happens together, incredibly, perfectly, the way it had to be ...

They lie silent, holding tightly to one another, and there is no need for words. Jana knows, and inside she weeps—but the tears are clean and good, purging. Lennox knows, and inside there is a peace, unstable but rich and promising. They are one now, in many ways.

In many ways.

The Final Day..

One

Vollyer came awake just before dawn—and he was blind.

A soft, strangled cry bubbled in his throat; he sat up, pawing at his eyes. Darkness, darkness, with light shimmering faintly at the edges, with light flickering a long way off like candles at the end of a long, dark tunnel; but there were no images, no colors, there was only the light and pain, pain hammering behind the swollen lids, pain pulsating at the core of each eyeball. He shook his head and kept on shaking it, scratching wildly at the mucus- crusted sockets with the tips of his fingers.

Di Parma had been sitting on a rock nearby, watching the eastern horizon turn a dusty gray with the approach of dawn, eating the last of the tinned meat with chilled fingers. He came running over to Vollyer and knelt beside him. “Harry, what’s the matter? Jesus, Harry, what is it?”

“Get away from me!” Vollyer snapped at him. Control, control, get control of yourself, don’t panic, only the losers panic. Hands away from your eyes, only makes it worse rubbing at them, that’s it, blink now, blink, blink, light growing brighter, yes, taking away the darkness, force those lids up all the way, blink, blink, the sky, you can see the sky now and Di Parma, fuzzy but it’s Di Parma, concentrate, blink, his features, eyes, nose, mouth, blink, concentrate, blink, fuzziness fading, focus coming back, you’re all right, you’re not really blind, only temporary, bad strain that’s all, you can see now, you can see as well as before ...

Vollyer dragged cool air into his lungs and sat up again, looking around him. The solid objects had faint, dancing perimeter shadows until he stared at one in particular and then the shadow went away. His head ached massively, malignantly, and there were searing needles probing at the retinas of his eyes. He got shakily to his feet and held his hands out in front of him and stared at their backs; the hands were trembling, but there were only two of them and they had no dancing shadows.

Di Parma said, “Was it your eyes, Harry? Mine have been giving me hell, too. It’s the glare of that sun ...”

Vollyer said nothing. He walked slowly to the rock on which Di Parma had been sitting and took the binoculars from it and then went to where he could look out over the desert to the north. He lifted the glasses, squinting through the lens. The moon was gone now, the stars fading, and the landscape lay cold and starkly quiet under the