pubic hairs caught the light's flame and glistened with mock fire. She reached up, her fingers trailing coolly along his scar, down his powerful chest, hard stomach, into the thatch of rough hair.
Eric hovered over her a moment, studying her thick, long hair as it twisted carelessly around one shining breast and completely veiled the other. Her beauty was almost too much and he felt his leg muscles lapse slightly. He took a deep breath and lowered himself on top of her, his straining penis sliding into her body so easily, so effortlessly, like piercing a cloud. He felt the rippling of her vaginal muscles clamping around him, then the violent thrashing as they bounced atop the thin mattress in something that was more than love. Almost religion.
His head was nestled next to hers, his lips pressed against her smooth shoulders. He could taste her sweat, hear the strained gasps as she bucked under him. Eric lifted his head and looked into her open eyes. They stared at each other as they felt the pressure mounting, the locomotive climbing their spines, blasting its steam from all sides.
She came seconds before he did, her eyes narrowing but still gazing at him. Her mouth was wide with concentration, and once again he delighted in the wrinkles around her eyes and brackets at the corners of her lips. They'd earned each and every one of them, he thought, and the pleasure of that thought pushed him past all control into his own orgasm, his hands clutching her buttocks as he lifted her off the mattress, grinding further into her.
Afterwards they kissed, eyes closed, lips almost painfully mashed together.
'That's enough,' Annie said, pushing him away. 'You'll be late.'
Eric didn't ask her how she knew. He'd learned long ago how transparent he was to her. To others he was an enigma, a conundrum as complex as a Chinese box, a half-faced Sphinx. To Annie he was as simple as a tear.
Annie did not get dressed. She sat cross-legged on the mattress, naked and smiling, watching as Eric tucked his shirt into his pants.
'I want to go with you,' she said, the smile suddenly gone.
Eric said nothing, slipped into his quiver.
She shrugged. 'That's what I thought you'd say.'
'You know why. The kids.'
'I know. Maybe you're going to think I'm a terrible mother or something, but I love you more than I love the kids. Rotten, huh?'
Eric smiled. 'No. Because I feel the same way about you. But it's going to be distracting enough out there taking care of these kids. I don't want to worry about you too. Understand?'
Annie stood up, her hair hanging to her hips. 'I've got a present for you.'
'More Beatles tapes?'
'Nope.'
'What is it?'
She lifted the corner of the mattress they'd just made love on and pulled out a samurai sword. Lifting it delicately with both hands, she presented it to Eric with a ceremonial bow.
Eric took the sword from her, hefting it a couple times before pulling the blade out a few inches. 'It's magnificent,' he said. 'Where'd you get it?'
'I bought it.'
'Oh, you've been out shopping again.'
'Sort of. After what the kids got you, I couldn't be outdone. Well, as you know, Joyce Harvey's been seeing a lot of Gordon Petrie-'
'Right. As we all know.'
'Don't get superior. You love gossip as much as I do. Anyway, Joyce told me all about Gordon's fascination with weapons. How he used to make swords, knives, spears, all that stuff as a hobby.'
'He told us all that,' Eric said. 'That's why he's making them for University Camp now.'
'Uh huh. But you didn't know that he brought a few of his former creations with him, which he's kept buried-'
'Where?'
'Forget it. I promised Joyce I wouldn't squeal. Besides, that's not important. What is important is that this is an exact replica of the kind of swords ninjas used to carry in 17th century Japan. It's sharp as your tongue and almost as long. The guard here is oversized to be used to pull the owner over walls or obstacles. The scabbard's tip is removable so you can use it as a hearing aid, a megaphone, or an underwater breathing tube. And this cord here lets you tie it across your back like the guys in those Kurasawa movies. Pretty damn clever, huh?'
'Remarkable.' Eric had been taught how to use such a weapon as a member of the Night Shift because some assassination assignments demanded complete silence. They weren't even permitted to carry guns then. But for most of the time in Nam, it was not a very practical weapon, not in a world of Uzi submachine guns and grenade launchers. But now, it was more than practical. He looked at Annie. 'What'd you buy it with?'
Annie laughed. 'What kind of gentleman would ask a lady such a question?'
'Seriously.'
'Hmmm. I think I've been insulted.'
'You know better. It's just that this is quite a work of craftsmanship. Not something to be given up lightly, especially after carrying it through an earthquake.'
She kissed him lightly. 'Okay. Joyce and Gordon want the use of our little home here one day a week for two months.'
'That's all?'
She shook her head. 'Men. How quickly they forget once they've had their lust satisfied. Try to remember how difficult it is around here for a couple to have any privacy.'
'Yeah. Still seems like a small price.' He tied the sword across his back, fastening his quiver to his waist. He was anxious to get going now, get it all over with and come back home to Annie.
Sensing his restlessness, Annie pecked him on the cheek and pushed him playfully toward the door. 'Thanks for the roll in the hay. Jocko. Let's try it again sometime.'
He didn't know what to say, nothing seeming enough. Finally he settled for 'Bye' and a kiss.
'Don't be too late,' she said.
'No, I won't.' He heard the door close behind him, the locks sliding into place. It was a cold, metallic sound that sent a chill of loneliness across his neck.
Within three minutes he was leading his combat team to the makeshift gate through the barbed wire and into the Dead Zone.
Season Deely looked around at the eerie darkness, the vague glow of distant campfires, and shivered. 'It's worse than I imagined.'
They moved on.
16.
'What was that?' Tag asked, stopping to listen.
'What?' Philip asked.
'That noise. Like a whistling.' He crouched down, tightening his fingers on the bowstring.
Season gave him a scornful frown. 'It's just the wind, Tag.'
'I don't know,' Philip said. 'It sounds different than the wind. Not as steady.'
'He's right,' Rydell said. 'It's spooky like… my God, what's happening to me?' He stiffened his fingers into claws and bared his teeth like fangs. Hissing like a steam iron, he leaned over Season's neck and bit her lightly. 'I vun to trink your bloot.'
'Big tough men,' Season said disgustedly, pushing Rydell away. 'At least Molly and I aren't afraid.'
'Speak for yourself, Season,' Molly said. 'I've been scared since we left camp.'
'Jesus Christ. Our fearless leader tells us to wait here for him while he scouts around, and we all turn into the Hardy Boys in Transylvania.'
