He regretted terribly that he hadn’t been able to keep his date with Lulah. He hated that he’d stood her up for the first time ever. He would’ve given anything to be on his way to a nice dinner with her right now. Yet, for her safety as well as his own, he couldn’t even call and explain why. Even though by now he was sure it was all over the newsfeeds and she was probably putting two and two together, he wished she could’ve heard it from him. Especially if there had been any mention of a half-naked furry woman with a bushy tail.
That one would need some sitting down and explaining.
He had reignited the damaged starboard Thor, running it at one-third power, just to get the added lift he needed. He wasn’t worried about the fluid loss. They didn’t have that far to go and he had a feeling once he sat the ol’ girl down, she wouldn’t be getting back up again. She not only was mortally wounded but was now a fugitive the same as the rest of them. She carried the same bullseye on her battered back.
He felt a feeling of immense sadness. So many memories were attached to this antique bucket of gyros, micronic relays, and propulsion tubes. Far too many involved Lulah.
He closed his eyes, imagining her pressed up next to him in the seat, lifting his arm up and sliding under it to nestle against his side on one of their many flyaways. Wherever impetuousness and spontaneity deemed they should go during those three days of R & R, that’s where they ended up. It might be to the Gulf, for sun, swimming and oysters on the half shell. It might be to the mountains for skiing and a secluded romantic cabin with a real wood-burning fireplace. She loved those things. He, on the other hand, never saw anything vaguely romantic about going out into the bitter cold in the middle of the night to fetch a bundle of wood. Doesn’t love makes you do the damnedest of things?
Sometimes, it was nothing so involved. It might simply have been just a short ten-minute flight to a secluded clearing up in southern Tennessee, taking along nothing but a blanket and a bottle of Martian brandy. They would spend the night lying naked on the ground, making love under the stars while classic Southern rock softly competed with the crickets. On the southern horizon, white streaks of light would shoot skyward at regular intervals, another ship launching from the old Redstone terminal. At dawn, as the sun arose and the bottle of wine gave up its last few drops, they would dress, climb back into the Pegasus and fly back to town for a nice country-style breakfast of eggs, biscuits and gravy, bacon and grits.
It seemed like just yesterday, sometimes, and then there were times it seemed as if centuries had passed. Perhaps it was the first sign of growing old, that time no longer had any depth or consistency to it. He’d think back on something that had happened, thinking only a few weeks or months had passed, only to realize it had happened over years ago. Time was flying by now, moving steadily faster with each passing year. It was as if he were rolling down a steep slope, building momentum as he went.
He allowed himself a moment of indulgent self-pity. Here he was, just over forty, and he had nothing to show for a life that should have amounted to so much more. He had no wife or children. He had no house rock side. Most of his earthly possessions had just been impounded with the Jenny Lou … or burnt up by his own hands. He was a spacefaring gypsy without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Was it any wonder Lulah had walked away from him ten years ago? Sure, he always talked about retiring to that abode on the Gulf, but was it all just talk? Had he ever really given it any real consideration, other than glancing at a few brochures, trying hard to convince Lulah and himself after a few drinks? Would he really be happy sitting on a balcony with a bourbon and Coke, overlooking the ocean every day? Was that really who he was?
Maybe if Lulah was there beside him. Maybe if those kids had been his. Things might’ve been a lot different. Despite his nomadic ways, he could see himself all settled down and domesticated. At least he could now; it was too bad he couldn’t ten years ago, when it really mattered.
But here he was once again, on another adventure with the deck stacked against him. You would’ve thought the last one would’ve cured me from touching a hot stove a second time. Am I that damned dense?
As Monte Sano loomed before him in the darkness, his mind wandered back to his childhood. Once upon a time, in what now seemed centuries ago, the old mountain had been such a special part of his life. Growing up in South Huntsville, he and his friends used to play for hours in the woods that blanketed the slopes of the flat-topped mountain. There were trees of all shapes and height for them to scamper up. There was an abundance of animals to check out too, from deer and rabbit to lizards and birds. There were even caves and an old abandoned limestone mine.
