'Maybe. You look like a bit of an exhibitionist.'
'Thanks.'
Another pause.
'I'll do it with my hand, if you want. Easier to hide if we're caught. Or if you want to do it to yourself while I watch, that'd be okay. Some guys get off on that.'
'Can we change the subject, please?'
'Sure, I didn't mean to embarrass you.'
'Like hell you didn't.'
She laughed. 'Okay, maybe I did. A little.'
Rydell leaned over and kissed her again. This time her arms were around him, crushing him to her. He was surprised by the strength in her arms. She nibbled his lip lightly like a hamster and they giggled into each other's mouth.
'You think they found him yet?' she asked, nuzzling against his neck.
'Nope. They won't find him until he's ready to be found.'
'What do you think he's doing right now?'
'Grieving.'
She leaned back against the wall and frowned. 'What are we going to do now?'
'God, I wish I knew. It looks like Trevor Graumann is going to be Chairperson of the Council. New members will have to be elected.'
'Eric?'
He shook his head. 'I doubt it. He's going after his wife and son.'
'Alone?'
'Maybe.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Nothing.'
'Uh oh. You want to go too, right? I think I see the ugly macho head of Daddy Grimme rearing.'
His voice crackled with bitterness. 'Who taught you psychology? Dr. Joyce Brothers? Or Ozzie and Harriet?'
'Bob Newhart.' She touched his arm. 'I didn't mean anything, you know. Just shooting my big mouth off without checking to see if it's loaded.'
He nodded sullenly.
'Hell, we were better off talking about sex.'
He looked into her face. 'You're not the kind who tries to joke people out of bad moods, are you?'
She shrugged helplessly. 'Afraid so. Mary Tyler Moore with slanted eyes.'
The sound of footsteps outside the door interrupted them. Rydell nodded to Molly to stay put. She picked up her bow and eased an arrow out of the quiver. Rydell plucked a throwing knife from his belt, poised it over his shoulder.
'Hey, anybody in there?' Season called before popping her head into the doorway.
'It's only you,' Rydell said impatiently.
Season jerked a thumb at him and spoke to Molly. 'Get him. Bah, humbug to you too.' She slipped her quiver over head, laid it on the floor next to her bow, and sat down on the mattress next to Molly where Rydell had been sitting. 'Oh my God. Oh, that feels good. I never thought I'd get to sit again.'
'Any sign of Eric?' Molly asked.
'Nope. Wherever he is, he doesn't want to be found yet. We've combed, teased, and blow-dried this camp three times already. Still no sign. Tag told me you were hiding out here so I thought I'd join you.' She raised her eyebrows suggestively. 'I didn't realize you had company of the male persuasion. I can keep watch outside the door if you guys want some privacy,' Neither of them answered her, so she just shrugged and closed her eyes. 'Suit yourself.'
'Anything new out there?' Rydell asked to change the subject.
Season rolled her head toward him, half-opened her eyes. 'Same old same old. People are still in shock about what the council did. They're scared now that we don't have a doctor. Susan was a surgical nurse, but you know people, they like professionals with titles, little letters after their names. She's doing a hell of a job at the hospital, but people are still asking her what would Dr. Dreiser do.'
'What about Trevor Graumann?'
'He's organizing people, keeping them busy. The old guy really knows what he's doing. And since he's the only one who didn't have anything to do with this disaster, people are starting to listen to him. In the meantime, Dr. Epson is locked in a room in the hospital until they figure out what to do with him.'
'What can they do?' Molly asked.
Season laughed sharply. 'If most people get their way, they'll lynch him.'
'They wouldn't,' Molly said.
'Probably not,' Rydell said. 'But I wouldn't be surprised if they expel him from University Camp.'
'Expel him? They might as well lynch him. You saw what it's like out there. He wouldn't last an hour, especially in his present condition.'
'I'm not saying they will expel him, just that they might. After all, we don't have the facilities or manpower to care for him.'
'God, you can be cold,' Molly said.
'Uh oh,' Season grinned. 'Trouble in paradise. Your first spat.'
'Knock it off, Season,' Molly said angrily.
Season was stunned by the hostility in Molly's usually placid voice. 'Sorry,' she mumbled, meaning it.
A heavy silence.
Season broke it with nervous chatter. 'You guys given any thought to what you're going to do now?'
'What do you mean?' Molly asked.
'I mean around here. Things definitely aren't going to be the same anymore. Not after tonight. They counted twenty-three dead of ours.' No one was ghoulish enough to ask for names. The community was small enough that everyone knew everyone else, so it didn't really matter who was killed. It would be someone they knew, probably liked.
'Anyway, this is a good chance for us to run for council. After braving the dangers of the Dead Zone, we've built pretty good reputations. And we obviously didn't have anything to do with the massacre tonight. If we get Eric to endorse us, I bet we could get the votes. We'd all be on the council together, really get this place rolling.'
'Rydell's thinking of going with Eric,' Molly said suddenly, an edge to her voice.
'What?' she asked incredulously. 'Go with him? Where?'
'After his wife and kid.'
'Right, his wife and kid. But do you know who has them? Col. Dirk Fallows. You ever hear of him, follow the trial in the papers?'
'Yeah, I know all about him.'
'And did you hear the descriptions of his second in command, what's his name?…'
'Cruz,' Molly offered.
'Yeah, Cruz. He's the bastard that slit Jenny Ravensmith's throat. Supposed to be seven feet of pure mean. That's who you'll be up against. Just you and Captain Bligh.'
'Let me worry about that.'
'Men,' Season sighed, shaking her head. 'They all think they have to wear their balls on their sleeve. I'll tell you one thing about Eric, if he were you he wouldn't go. You don't have any experience, any training.'
With a sudden flick of his arm, Rydell tossed his throwing knife across the room. It stuck in the center board covering the window. 'Yes I do,' he said quietly.
Season and Molly exchanged looks.
'Where'd you learn to do that?' Molly asked. 'Boy Scouts?'
He laughed, trying to lighten the conversation, but neither woman smiled back. 'My father taught me. His campaign to make me a man was ceaseless. Did I mention he was a SWAT commander in Atlanta?'
'No,' Molly answered stiffly. 'You didn't.'