water, moving downstream as fast as she can, stopping at intervals to turn her head sideways so as to catch the breeze from behind her on the flat of her eardrum.
It’s been a while now since she’s heard their voices. Have they lost the track? Or are they right behind her, creeping up?
Don’t speculate. Don’t think at all. Just move. Keep going …
Ten minutes? Half an hour? There’s no way to measure time. Her ankles are weakening; were it not for the support of the boots she’d have caved in by now. Can’t walk on these Goddamn stones any longer. This is just going to have to be far enough.
She climbs out of the stream and leans against the bole of a tall tree, propped on one shoulder, looking back the way she just came.
“Do you think it fooled them, little girl? Think we’ve got a chance?”
Who knows. All we can do is play it out.
She finds a place deep in the woods-a fallen log to sit on. Changing the baby’s diaper, feeding her unwarmed milk, she listens to the forest.
“Just stick with your momma, kid,” she says drily, “and we’ll see what other nifty kinds of trouble we can get you into. If you want a dull peaceful life you picked the wrong momma.”
61
With the baby balanced on her shoulder she trudges across the back of somebody’s cornfield.
Just make it to that far corner; then we can rest again.
Everything hurts. Everything.
The baby lies across her shoulder like velvet. No complaints now; no stirrings. Poor kid’s exhausted.
I understand, Ellen. I know how it is. It’s always harder to be a passenger than to be a driver.
Feels like a blister coming up on the left heel. Damn. All we need. Well what did you expect, feet all soaking wet and everything?
One foot and then the other. That’s it. Just put one foot down and then put the other foot down. One foot at a time. We’ll get there.
How far do you suppose we’ve walked? Time’s it? Takes too much energy to shift things around so I can look at the watch; take a guess by the sun shadows.
Probably somewhere between four and six. Split the difference. Say it’s five. I don’t believe less than nine hours ago Charlie and I were making love.
Charlie. I wonder what happened to the airplane and the helicopter. Haven’t noticed them since God knows how long ago. No sign of them now.
Hell with them. Come on. Almost to the corner now.
Nasty rip in the sleeve of this blouse from those thorns back there. Cheek feels all scratched from the thickets. Burrs in my hair, what’ll you bet. I must look a sight.
Well this ain’t no beauty contest, honey.
This is the corner. We can sit down now. Jesus-it feels as if I’ve got drill bits in my joints. God, that hurts!
Now then. What’s the plan?
Are they back there? Tracking?
Maybe. Maybe not. You can’t do anything about it so quit thinking about it.
Can’t be too far to the Interstate. Keep walking east you’re bound to find it.
What then?
God knows. Worry about it when we get there. One thing at a time. Too tired to think.
Let’s see what we’ve got in here, kid. You want Gerber’s applesauce or Gerber’s apricot? Where’s the Goddamn plastic spoon?
Here, quit making such a mess all over your face. You handle the mouth, let me handle the spoon, all right? Try to get the food inside the mouth, right?
Now stop looking at me like that. Like I’m taking food out of the mouths of babes. In the first place the damn things are too heavy to go on carrying. And in the second place Momma needs nourishment too, you know. One jar of Gerber’s apricot isn’t going to make that much difference in your life, kid, take my word for it.
God, it tastes good. I think I’m going to start eating baby food for a regular diet. If we ever get out of this mess alive.
62
She finds a narrow blacktop road and walks east on the shoulder. Every time she hears the rumor of an approaching vehicle she takes cover off the road.
The baby is delivering herself of long closely reasoned monologues in a language known only to herself.
It probably isn’t very far in miles but she hasn’t been able to move at a very good pace. By the time the country road takes her across another hill from which she sights the superhighway below her, the sun is setting; by the time she stumbles to the overpass the last of the twilight has dimmed to dusk.
The blacktop road isn’t important enough to rate an interchange. It crosses on an overpass above the Interstate. She goes down along the right side of the hump of landfill and parks herself and the baby on the sloping grass fifty feet above the highway, protected from view by the bulk of the overpass.
Cool here. Cool now and it’ll get cold soon. Wish we had a blanket-although God knows how I’d have carried any more weight.
Cars go by at infrequent intervals, headlights stabbing the road, but by the time they come in sight they are broadside to her, heading away. No chance of being seen unless she steps out onto the shoulder.
She lies back-aching everywhere but it is good to stretch out. She holds Ellen close. Is there anything we can do other than take the chance of hitchhiking?
If only my brain weren’t so fogged. Just reeling.
Got to protect the baby. That’s number one. Got to keep us both out of Bert’s clutches; that’s number two. Got to get out of this area; that’s number three.
Might as well go down there and stick out a thumb. Can’t think of anything else to do. Can’t think period.
Rest here a few minutes. Gather a bit of strength. Then go down and thumb-and be ready to leap back out of sight if you see anything that looks like the square silhouette of the Bronco.
Remember too-they may have alerted every sheriff and local cop and highway patrolman; every big rig with a CB radio. Knowing Bert and his capacity for rage he’s perfectly capable of turning this into something no less noisy than the Lindbergh kidnapping.
Funny image: show some flesh; stick out a leg-make like Claudette Colbert in
She awakens having no idea how long she’s slept. Stars glittering overhead.
Ellen!
She’s fine. The baby’s fine. Snuggled right here in my arms. Poor kid’s nose is running. Find something to wipe it-here, this’ll do.
So stiff. Can hardly move. I’d give anything for a drink and a couple of aspirin. Anything except my kid.
Haven’t seen a single car go by since I woke up. It must be very late.
She holds the watch close before her eyes and tries to turn it to pick up reflections of starlight. Very hard to make out the dial. Can’t be sure but it looks as if either it’s ten after twelve or it’s two o’clock.
