“Every time we look up, it is the opening or closing parenthesis on a recursive block,” declared Eva, swaying.
“I don’t understand.”
“Look up there. Clouds rising higher and higher like a stack of pennies thrown into the sky, and beyond them the first stars are appearing. Up there I see the contrails of the airplanes from the outside world. The Watcher is closing in on us, Ivan. The Free States won’t last much longer.”
“So come with me when I return home.”
“No. While I stay here I am safe.”
“Safe here? With what you have seen lies beneath your feet?”
Eva swayed a little. How far down, she wondered? How far down to those caves?
If they were real, of course. No—she shunted the treacherous thought to one side—Ivan wouldn’t lie to her. Would he?
They heard the chatter of approaching voices. Five people in wheelchairs approached, two of them being pushed by others. She studied them carefully. Stephen Kerry was not amongst them. What would she have done if he were?
“Hello, Eva. Hello, Ivan.”
Eva held on to Ivan as she greeted the newcomers in return. She still felt sick and dizzy, and she felt the stiffness in his body as she clung and realized why when she saw who was walking behind the party. The priest, the man who annoyed Ivan so.
“Hello, Pobyedov,” she called. “Say hello, Ivan,” she muttered.
One of the young men in the wheelchairs began to laugh. “Here we go again,” he called. “Listen, we’re out for an evening stroll. We don’t want to hear you two arguing!”
“I wasn’t going to argue,” said Ivan.
“Nor was I, Wilson,” said Pobyedov. He knelt down by the young man in the wheelchair and offered him a drink from a little silver hip flask. Wilson took a nip, gave a satisfied gasp, and then offered the flask to Eva and Ivan.
“No, thank you,” said Eva. “I’ve had enough.” She squeezed Ivan’s arm, urging him to be polite and accept the offered drink. Reluctantly he did so.
“Whisky,” he said. “But why is it sweet? This is like a child’s drink, Wilson.”
Wilson laughed again. He was a big man, with strong arms and a broad chest. Only his legs were thin and useless.
“It is, it is!” he said delightedly. “Which fool thought of putting vanilla in whisky? And yet you drink black currant vodka and are happy, Ivan. Pobyedov, I like this stuff!”
There was a gentle thumping sound. One of the group had started to spasm, one arm beating regularly against her head. Long strands of drool ran down onto her chest. Her father leaned down and spoke to her softly.
“We’re going to go inside now,” said Wilson, pretending not to notice the woman’s behavior. “We thought we might go to Manny’s bar later on. Maybe see you there?”
“Maybe,” said Eva.
They pushed their chairs on down the uneven concrete slabs of the road. Pobyedov stayed with them, and Eva wished that he hadn’t. Not tonight of all nights. She felt too nauseated for an argument.
“I hear you are going back home in two days,” said Pobyedov.
“I am,” said Ivan.
“I am grateful to you for coming here,” said Pobyedov. “You’ve made a big difference to the residents. The heating would not be working but for you and Alexandr.”
“Maybe,” said Ivan, and Eva saw his face flushing red. She knew that he was trying to be polite. He honestly believed that the handicapped would be better served back out in the Watcher’s world. It was taking a great effort for him not to point this out. He changed the subject by enlisting an unlikely ally.
