When Rip Cantrell awoke, the sun was in his eyes. He was lying in sand, he discovered, and the sun was reflecting off the saucer. He squinted, tried to rise and couldn't, rolled over to see where he was. He could hear an airplane, a buzzing.
He held up an arm to shield his eyes from the sun. The plane was a high-wing Cessna, only a couple hundred feet up, circling. The pilot must be looking the saucer over.
'About time you woke up,' Charley Pine said. She was pouring water into the fuel tank using one of the plastic cans Rip had thrown into the saucer last night.
He had a hell of a headache. He rolled over, levered himself up to a sitting position. He fingered his forehead. A large scab. Dried blood on his skin, in his eyebrows. He picked at it.
Finally he checked his watch. Ten o'clock.
The saucer was sitting on its landing gear, as neat and pretty as a pigeon on her nest. Fifty or sixty yards away, mostly downhill, was the riverbank. The river was perhaps two miles wide at this point; this must be Lake Nasser. The view was worth looking at, but his eyes ached from the sun's glare. He shut them to let them rest.
The drone of the airplane's engine brought him fully awake. 'How long has that plane been circling?' he asked.
'Oh, fifteen minutes or so.'
'I thought we crashed, last night.'
'We did. Nothing damaged, though. I lifted the saucer and put the gear down. Got you out here in the sand so you would sleep better.'
'Is the thing okay?'
'Sure.'
'Didn't hurt it?'
'Honest.'
She finished pouring and set out for the river. Rip started to get up, then thought better of it.
The Cessna made one last circle, then flew away to the northeast.
Rip watched it go. He was still sitting beside the saucer when she returned carrying the heavy can with both hands. Unassisted, she hoisted it to the refill receptacle and began pouring.
'You're pretty strong.'
'You'd better be, this day and age.'
'How many gallons is that?'
'Fifty. Ten trips. I'm going to sit a while and watch you add the next fifty.'
'Isn't that just like a woman! You do your work in the cool of the day and leave the hot work for a man.'
'Isn't that just like a man!' she shot back. 'Sleeps late, watches the woman work, then gripes.'
Rip struggled to his feet and took the empty can from her. He picked up the second one in the other hand, then set off down the hill.
The river was a flat sheet of brown, opaque water. In every direction, all he could see was sand, mud, rock, and water. There wasn't much breeze. Sweat dripped off his chin as he forced the first can into the water and let the water run in the opening.
Liquid mud. This brown water wouldn't do the saucer's machinery any good, that's for sure. still, there was nothing else.
After he filled the second can, he paused, staring morosely at the brown water, which didn't seem to be flowing. He was thirsty and hot, but if he drank that stuff he would get the runs for sure. He squatted and splashed water on his face, in his hair, then swabbed it with a rolled-up sleeve. His sleeve picked up most of the dirt.
Maybe this afternoon they would get to a place with cool, clean water.
A bath wouldn't hurt either. And food.
If he could work up the courage to fly in the saucer again. He had never been so scared in his life as he was last night, in the darkness, with the earth rushing toward them… He shivered once, remembering.
Climbing the hill with the cans, he told himself he could do it. 'It was dark last night,' he told Charley. 'Couldn't see a darn thing.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Flying in the daytime will be different.'
'Yeah.'
'You can see things.'
She nodded her head and brushed the hair back out of her eyes.
'You'll do better today,' he said.
'Maybe.'
'No, really. I'd be dead right now if you hadn't crawled into that saucer with me.'
'You would really have flown this thing by yourself?'
'I was going to.'
'Seriously?'
'I intended to.'
'Uh-huh.'
'I didn't know what was involved.'
'Life's like that, isn't it?' she said and brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead.
He trudged down the hill for another ten gallons.
When he had poured his fifty gallons into the saucer, he flopped down on the sand beside Charley. 'Wonder how much that thing holds.'
'Let me see your head.' She put her hands on the side of his head and examined his forehead. 'You may have a scar. That's a pretty good whack. Blood's still oozing from it.'
Her hands were strong. He liked that.
'Are you married to that major?' he asked.
'What made you ask that?'
'You're not wearing a ring, but some women don't these days.'
'I'm single.'
'Live with him?'
She made a dismissive gesture.
A gentle breeze stirred her hair. She looked like a fine hunk of woman, Rip Cantrell thought. Pretty old, though. Heck, she must be pushing thirty.
'So how come you got into that saucer with me?'
'I didn't want to see you kill yourself
'Oh, come on. Give me a straight answer. I'm not a kid.'
She shrugged. 'I figured you might try to fly it, and I thought, why not? A girl can only die once.'
Charley Pine started to laugh, then thought better of it and bit her lip. She got up, picked up one of the cans, set off for the river.
Rip picked up the other can and trailed after her.
'So are you in trouble with the Air Force?'
'I will be, sooner or later. When they find out this thing will fly, they'll want me to fly it to Nevada.'
'Where in Nevada?'
'Area Fifty-one.'
'That's the top-secret base?'
'Yes.'
'So are you going to?'
'Can't take you there, can I? You don't have a clearance.'
'They'll fire you, maybe. Talk Lockheed Martin out of hiring you.'
Charley grunted.
