Dream Park

More beer was being consumed, the last of the pizza was gone. Couples were breaking away from the fireside to find privacy. But Mary-em seemed, for the first time that Griffin had seen her, to­tally unnerved.

Eames wobbled out of the woods, a beer in his hand, plastic smile stretched tight across his face. He leered at Mary-em and she folded her arms, tucking her hands in her armpits. 'What are you staring at, Eames?'

He laughed. When he spoke it was in the ingratiating tones usu­ally reserved for idiots and children. 'What's a matter, huh? Isn't she feeling himself tonight?'

The other voices died. Griffin felt danger tightening in the air. Are we all going crazy? He wanted to scream a warning. Then Acacia's hand was on his neck, stroking him. It felt very nice, very comfortable, and suddenly he could do nothing but watch.

Let it happen, he thought. He's an asshole anyway ... He

shook his head like a drunk going down for the third time and wondered what the hell was in that beer?

Eames said, 'You know, Mary-em, I don't like you at all. You are one of the homeliest, most ridiculous little witches I have ever laid eyes on, and I wish-'

Mary-em's fist shot out like a piston, almost level, catching Eames squarely in the groin. He whoofed air and doubled over, swinging a wild reflexive haymaker. Mary-em went under it and came up, snatched two handfuls of Eames's hair. Both of her feet left the ground as she rammed her knees into his face.

Earnes shot upright and stumbled back with his face covered in blood. Back into a corner of the fire. He did a ragged hop, trying to stay clear. Then his mind gave up trying to guide his body, and he did a slow spiral to the ground, onto his knees, then fiat on his bloody face.

Mary-em looked at him, and tears began to stream down from her eyes. She wiped at the streaks with a chubby hand, then walked unsteadily to her bedroll and collapsed into a ball, sobbing. Everyone stared, then, embarrassed, turned back to their own

little groups and couplets. Griffin felt a vague urge to get up and do something, but once again Acacia's hand dissuaded him.

'Don't worry,' she said, her mouth close enough to his ear for him to feel the heat in her breath. 'They'll both be all right.'

He tried to find surprise, indignation, any emotion more appro­priate than the one that was starting to stir. 'All right then. What's on the agenda, more songs?'

She took his face in her hands and brushed his lips with hers.

'Se algunos juegos para mayores, hombre.' She whispered.

Griffin spoke little Spanish, but the message in her eyes needed no translation at all. He had trouble finding his voice. 'Let's go play Pathfinder, shall we?'

Her smile was hot enough to scorch. She rose, then bent and demurely collected her bedroll. She glanced up and said with half­lidded eyes: 'I think we may need this.'

He felt giddy, dizzy, and not totally sure of what he was doing as he nodded, gathering his own bag under his arm. Together, the two of them walked into the darkness and kept walking until the campfire and its noises were far behind them.

Acacia kissed him gently, almost shyly. 'Here?'

He spread his sleeping bag down in silent agreement. They linked the inside edges together and sat next to each other, eyes locked wonderingly. 'I didn't... I really didn't think that this was going to happen, Gary.' She shied away an inch, and he reached out his hand.

He knew what he should be saying, and he forced his thickened tongue to say it. 'It doesn't have to if you don't want it.' He tried to mean it.

'We both know better than that...' She seemed to want to say something, but he stopped her by leaning forward.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, and what logic was left in Alex's head dissolved together. His blood seemed to fizz. She held him, and he could feel her nervousness.

'Help me, Gary. I don't understand it. I don't. I want you, but I don't know what's happening to me.' There was no strength in her voice. She sounded like a little girl... but her skin was smooth and hot, and he couldn't stop touching her. Excitement and wonder burned in her eyes as he helped her off with her clothes and she clung to him, fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders. When at last he pulled the bag over them both and took

her in his arms, she closed her eyes, murmuring only 'Please, please, Gary. .

Gary. Not Alex. He paused, unsure, gazing into eyes that were afraid. He felt the fire that roared in his mind and body and from somewhere gathered the strength to pull away. Something's wrong here. She's not-The crazy way the others were-Lopez wouldn't drug us, but- Then she rolled hard against him, and the questions were wiped

away as they began to move together. The same fear, the same wonder he felt was in her eyes too, but there was something more now, something that began to build until at last it clouded his vi­sion. And for a while, in that moment without time, there were no longer two people who strove and sought, there was only one body with four limbs that found a rhythm of its own.

When the everlasting moment was over, when he held her and she buried her face against his chest and cried, he stroked her hair and looked into the darkness surrounding them both, and doubted his sanity. I can't be feeling this, he thought. I can't. But the words rang hollow even to him.

Presently the force took them again, with equal power, as if the whole universe were moving in them, irresistibly. Afterward he held her, and she held him, and together, without words, they waited for morning.

Chapter Twenty-Three

BLACK FIRE

Birdsong woke him. Real or recorded? Alex opened gummy eyelids and looked into the face of the woman sleeping in his arms. He watched her for a bit, almost holding his breath. Her breathing was slow and even, and she wore a slight smile. A smug smile?

Unbidden, his brain called up vivid tactile images of last night.

My God, he thought, disbelieving. That was one hell of a powerful

experience!