“Could I see, too?” she asked, predictably.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I can only see him because of a subatomic agitation of carbon quarks tuned to the mesons of Sam’s optic and otic neurons. ...”
Janna burst out laughing. “Your what? Carbon quarks? Oh, come on, even I know better than that.”
Al shrugged. “What can I say, it worked on Congress.” He found himself pulling out a cigar, unwrapping it. “Janna, love, I have to go now—”
Caught in the midst of examining the translucent white panels that made up the Chamber’s walls, she turned back to him. “Go? Go where?”
He shook his head. “I mean, you have to go. Out. I have to get back to Sam.”
Puzzled, she knit her brows. “Okay, Al. I’m glad you showed me this. I’ve always wondered what it looked like.”
“It looks exactly like this.” He gestured widely with the hand holding the cigar. The handlink was beginning to light up. “Janna, it’s time.”
“All right.” She stepped over to the air-lock door through the Accelerator, looked back at him. “Al? Will you be back in time for dinner?”
He bit his lip. “I don’t think so. Go ahead without me, okay?”
“Okay.” She ran to him suddenly and gave him a quick fierce hug. “Love you.”
He returned the embrace, kissing the top of her head. “Love you back, honey.”
She ran back to the air-lock door, gave him a quick wave. “See you soon!”
He raised his hand as if to say farewell, and punched the handlink control instead. “Center me on Sam, Ziggy,” he said roughly. “Now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
There just wasn’t any way to park the truck closer. He left it at about the same place it had been on Friday night. He wondered where the kids were parking.
He passed the pine branch, which slapped him in the face again.
He was ready for the clearing, and he paused to scope out the situation before charging in.
Two campfires, as before; almost two dozen people scattered around. Somehow Kevin had brought a truck around, too—he could see the road now, on the other side of the clearing. Kevin himself sat on the tailgate, swinging his legs and holding forth on something or other to a group of six or seven teens.
By one fire a young woman played plaintive sixties folk songs on an acoustic guitar. Her audience, another girl and a boy, was more interested in each other than in the music. Not far away a cluster of boys were chugging from cans. Someone was toasting marshmallows over the other fire— he caught the smell of burning sugar and swallowed against a rush of saliva, remembering too late he’d skipped dinner. Someone else had a radio, tuned to the harder rock of the current decade.
He couldn’t seem to find Bethica. He looked them over
again. They were quiet still, the clashing music the loudest part of it. She wasn’t there.
No, there she was, coming down that road. Sam started to step out from the trees, then stopped, waiting to see what would happen first.
They were expecting her. If he strained, he could hear the greetings. It helped that the radio got staticky and someone turned it off just about the time the greetings were over.
“So Bethie baby, gonna have one?” Kevin said, holding a paper cup under a spigot.
She held out a hand, took the cup. Sam made himself stay still. This wasn’t what he was supposed to change. Not this.
Besides, she looked at it and set it down on the fender of the truck. “No thanks.”
Sam, watching, felt a rush of relief, and even some pride. She had listened after all.
“Oh, c’mon. What’s the matter, you want something harder?” Kevin produced a bottle.
Someone else laughed and staggered. The bottle was half-empty.
“No thanks.”
“So what the hell you want?” Kevin said. “You swear off or something?”
“Maybe later,” she responded, looking around, away.
“Later might be too late,” Kevin said, nudging one of his friends. “I have some unfinished business to take care of.” They laughed immoderately.
“What unfinished business?”
Sam leaned forward. He thought he knew the answer already, but it never hurt to be sure. He was still moving stiffly. If Kevin was going to go after him again, he was going to have to stop holding back and really use the body he was occupying.
Poor Wickie. He wondered if the guy was really used to all this exercise.
“I’m going to take care of that Indian.” Kevin tilted his head back and drank directly from the bottle. Sam could see the amber liquid glinting in the light from the fires as the level dropped.
“I’m gonna take care of him good,” Kevin went on, wiping the whiskey from his mouth. “You think tonight was a fight? That was just a taste. I’m gonna pound him so hard—”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. It was unlikely that Wickie would allow this kid to “pound” him. Sam had no intention of allowing it, either, but he was less concerned about it at the moment than in keeping an eye on Bethica.
His own rules for Quantum Leaping were designed to minimize the effect of observation on the events observed. It wasn’t necessary to intervene here in order to keep Bethica from getting in an automobile accident; the best approach he could think of at the moment was just to keep an eye on her, and when she left, talk her into going with him rather than driving herself. All he had to do was get her home safely tonight, and then he could Leap.
“No, you won’t,” Bethica said suddenly. “You’re just a drunken bully, you know that, Kevin Hodge? You think you’re such a big deal because you can buy booze. Because you can hit people.” Her face was twisted with loathing.
The kids gathered around Kevin fell silent, looking at each other and at their leader, waiting to see what he would do. Kevin set down his bottle and slipped down from the tailgate. Sam tensed. Getting Bethica home safely didn’t include letting Kevin hurt her.
“What’s the matter, your
