Get a Load of This (3 page)

     Denny watched her in the driving mirror. “So Stella helps too, does she?” he said for something to say.
     “Sure, it's her capital to look nice,” Gerda said with a tiny sneer in her voice.
     “And what do you do?” Denny said curiously.
     “Me? I guess I run the outfit. We've got along all right so far, haven't we, Stella?”
     Stella didn't say anything. She shifted uncomfortably and her short skirt rode up a few inches. Denny could see a long expanse of bare thigh and he pursed his lips. If it wasn't for Gerda in the back, he could go for this honey in a big way he told himself.
     They swept through Port Orange and on to the U.S. Highway 1. They were now in the heart of the East Coast citrus country and the road curved across lowland meadows, pink with rose mallow. The mandarin trees were heavy with fruit. Denny thought it was all very beautiful.
     “This part of the country does things to me,” he said. “Don't you think it's swell?”
     Stella said: “You don't think of the ugly things in life after this, do you?” She spoke very tensely, as if she meant every word.
     Denny glanced at her curiously. He wondered what sort of a life she had been leading. She didn't look like a little tramp. He shook his head, giving up.
     They stopped at New Smyrna for petrol. Evening was drawing on rapidly and the sun, wrapped in a yellowish haze, was sinking behind the skyline. Denny got out of the car to stretch his legs and the two girls followed his example. Up the road they could see a long line of trucks moving slowly towards them, crowded with farm hands and bedding.
     Denny asked the mechanic who was operating the gasoline pump what it was all about.
     The man shrugged. “Oh, I guess they're coming in because of the hurricane,” he said indifferently. “The radio says it'll hit us before long.”
     Denny felt a sudden wave of apprehension. “Listen, I'm goin' through to Miami tonight. This hurricane won't stop me, will it?”
     The man screwed the cap on the gas tank and hung up his pump hose. “That depends on you, mister,” he said. “Two bucks, please.”
     Denny paid him and walked over to the edge of the road, where the two girls were watching the trucks pass. “Think we ought to go on?” he asked. “These people are coming in from outlying farms because of the hurricane.”
     Gerda said very decisively: “A little rain and wind wouldn't stop me. It's your car, you can please yourself what you do.”
     “Well, let's get on then,” Denny said, turning to the car.
     “You wouldn't like to stake us to a meal, would you, Mr. Merlin?” Gerda asked, smiling with her mouth.
     Denny looked at her. “Say, what is this?” he asked. “Are you two flat broke, or something?”
     Gerda moved over to the car. “Think no more about it, Mr. Merlin. Forget I ever spoke.”
     Denny turned to Stella. “You tell me. I can talk to you.”
     Stella hesitated and then nodded. “I guess we're tight for money just now,” she said awkwardly. “But we ain't really hungry. Please don't—”
     Denny said, “Wait for me,” and walked over to a coffee-shop. He came back with two paper bags and dumped them down on the seat. “There you are,” he said, “that ought to hold you until we get to Fort Pierce. We'll have a decent meal then. Let's get on before we waste any more time.”
     He drove out of New Smyrna in silence. The two girls ate the chicken sandwiches silently and ferociously. Gerda said, “Is that Scotch you've got there?”
     Denny handed the flask over his shoulder without a word. He was beginning to understand why Gerda looked after the outfit, as she called it. She wasn't slow in getting what she wanted.
     They drove along the Indian River. It was just dusk enough to see the luminous water, ruffled by an increasing wind. Every now and then faint flames seemed to be flickering along the top of the water. The scene so enchanted Denny that he forgot to be annoyed any more, and slowed down so that he could concentrate. Overhead a flight of herons passed, looking dark against the evening sky. Woodpeckers still continued to plunge from the telephone wires like rockets after minnows.
     “This is a grand country,” Denny said to Stella. “I'm mighty glad I decided to come here for my vacation.”
     “Why are you alone?” she asked. “Haven't you got a wife or a girl friend?”
     Denny shook his head. “I guess not,” he said. “I've been too busy making money. Believe it or not, this is the first real holiday I've had in ten years.”
     Gerda said softly in his ear, “Have you made a lot of money?”
     Denny grinned. “Oh, I guess so. Enough to get by.”
     “What do you call big money?” she persisted. “Ten grand, twenty grand, fifty grand—how much?”
     “Five hundred thousand,” Denny said, half to himself. “Believe me, it's nice to feel you've made that little lot just by yourself.”
     Gerda drew a deep breath. The amount left her speechless. They drove in silence for some minutes, then she said: “I guess you can do what you like with all that money.”
     Denny nodded. “It certainly helps,” he said lightly.
     They were running through a road bordered by Australian pine windbreaks which swayed in the increasing wind.
     Stella said suddenly: “Look, the wind is rising. Do you see the trees? It is getting rough.”
     “Well, we'll be all right in this bus,” Denny said confidently. “This old hearse doesn't leak; it can blow and rain as much as it likes.”
     The sun had given place to a big moon. It was almost dark now and Denny switched on his head-lamps. “I like driving in the dark,” he said, “especially in this country. Look at the river now. It looks as if it were on fire.”
     The wind had whipped the water into large waves which flickered like tongues of flame. Overhead small clouds began to race across the moonlit sky, joining up with each other rapidly. They were dark clouds that fled before the wind, gradually building up a barrier between the earth and the moon.
     “This looks like it,” Denny said as the landscape began to fade into darkness. “I guess if it gets too bad we'll have to put up at Fort Pierce.” A thought suddenly struck him. “Haven't you girls got any luggage?”
     Gerda said, “No.”
     There was a long silence and then Denny said, “You two seem to be having a bad time.” He felt uncomfortable, as most very wealthy people do when they run into real poverty. He began to wish he hadn't given them a ride. He supposed that they were going to be a damn nuisance before he had seen the last of them.
     Gerda said, casually: “Oh, we've been in the same sort of spot before. We'll get by.”
     Fine rain appeared on the windscreen and the darkness came down like a shutter. The two brilliant pools of light from the head-lamps lit the road, making the grapefruit trees and the lemon trees look grotesque as they flashed by them.
     Above the soft note of the Lincoln engine they could hear the moan of the wind, and out to sea came the thundery roar of the rollers smashing themselves to foam on the beach.
     A vivid and jagged flash of lightning lit the sky and the first clap of thunder startled them. The rain began to fall in earnest and Denny switched on the rain-wipers. He drove slowly, as he found it difficult to see through the windscreen.
     “I hope it's not going to get worse than this,” he said suddenly.
     “Oh, it will,” Stella told him. “This is just the beginning. The wind hasn't reached its height yet.”
     As she spoke the wind suddenly increased, making a shrill, whistling noise. Denny felt the car shudder against it, nearly coming to a halt. He fed the engine more gas and the speedometer needle crawled up to twenty miles an hour.
     “I guess we'd better get under cover,” he said. “I wish now that we had stayed at New Smyrna for the night. Keep a look-out for a house, will you? I don't care to drive much further in this.”
     “Oh, let's go on,” Gerda said quickly. “Fort Pierce is only about twenty miles from here.”
     Denny grunted. The lightning was beginning to worry him. It leapt about the dark sky, lighting the trees which swayed almost to the ground from the blast of the wind. The Lincoln was crawling now, although he kept his foot hard on the accelerator. He reckoned the wind must be blowing at well over a hundred miles an hour.
     The rain drummed on the top of the car, blotting out the noise of the thunder, and the wind had risen to a shrieking howl.
     Over to the left he thought he saw a building in the flash of brilliant lightning and his head-lights picked out a narrow road that turned off abruptly from the highway. He didn't hesitate, but swung the car into it. The wind caught them broadside and he felt the off wheels lift a little.
     “There's a house here,” he said. “We'll take shelter. This is beyond a joke.”
     He drove as close to the building as possible, and then stopped the car.
     “Be careful how you get out,” Stella said anxiously, “or you'll get blown away.”
     Denny thought that was most likely, and opened the car door gingerly. He slid out, keeping his body hunched. The wind and rain struck him solidly, and if he hadn't been holding on to the car door he would have gone over. He steadied himself, feeling the rain driving through his clothes as if they were paper, then, keeping low, he began a desperate struggle to the house. He had only to walk a few yards, but by the time he had reached the shelter of the house he was nearly exhausted.
     He could see that all the windows were boarded up, and he hammered on the front door. Fortunately, he was on the lee side and he could remain there without being battered. No one answered his knocking. Finally he lost patience and, taking a step back, aimed a violent kick at the lock. The door creaked, and a second kick sent it flying open. He stepped inside, peering into the darkness. He called loudly once or twice, but his voice hardly sounded in his own ears above the roar of the rain and wind.
     Taking his cigarette-lighter from his pocket, he made a tiny flame and finding an electric-light switch near his hand, he turned on the light. He found himself in a well-furnished lounge with three rooms leading off. A quick examination of the house proved that it was empty. The owners had most likely, he thought, gone to Fort Pierce, away from the hurricane. Anyway, the place was well furnished and comfortable. The next step was to get the two girls inside.
     He again stepped into the hurricane and fought his way back to the car. He tried to shout to them that it was all right, but the wind blew his words down his throat, leaving him gasping. He pointed to the house and took hold of Stella's arm. She hesitated for a moment, then slid out of the car. It took quite a time to get her into the shelter of the lounge. Twice they lost their balance and sprawled into a big pool of rain water, and by the time they got inside both of them were soaked and plastered with mud.
     Even at that moment Denny felt his blood quicken a trifle when he saw Stella in the light. Her jersey and skirt clung to her figure, revealing every line. The superb sweep of her hips down to her feet and the curve of her firm full breasts enchanted him. He said, “You look cute like that.”
     She turned her head. “Oh, don't look at me,” she said. “Please go and help Gerda.”
     He laughed a little nervously and turned away from her. Gerda stood in the doorway watching them. The wet jersey on her big figure made her look even more mannish than she actually was.
     She said: “I've locked up the car. The rain isn't getting in. I think it will be all right to leave.”
     Denny shrugged. “It'll have to be,” he said. “I've had enough of that wind for tonight. My God! I'm wet through. Maybe I'd better get a suitcase in.”
     Gerda went to the door. “You'll need some help,” she said, and together they battled their way once more to the car. Denny was a little piqued to see that Gerda managed the wind much better than he did. In fact, once she came to his aid and shoved him forward. He was equally astonished at her strength. Together they brought the suit-case back and closed the door on the storm.
     “You're hellish strong,” Denny gasped, wrenching off his sodden collar. “Quite a Samson.”
     Gerda didn't say anything. She disappeared into the kitchen.
     Denny wandered into the lounge, where Stella was standing shivering before an empty grate. She held her wet skirt away from her body as he came in.
     “Have a nip of this,” Denny said, producing his flask, “otherwise you'll catch a cold.” He was feeling shivery himself.
     They both had a long pull from the flask and immediately felt better for it.
     “You ought to get out of those things,” Denny then said with a grin, “although they suit you like that.”
     Stella flushed hotly. “You're making me feel awfully uncomfortable, Mr. Merlin,” she said. “I wish you wouldn't.”
     Denny took another pull from his flask. “Well, I guess I don't want to do that,” he said. “But you shouldn't have such a nice little figure.”
     Gerda came in with some paper and wood. “Get those things off, Stella,” she said, “the bathroom's down the passage. There's an electric geyser and I've turned it on. I've found a wrap for you. Hurry up.”
     Stella went away and Gerda knelt down before the fire. In a few minutes she had a roaring fire going.
     Denny looked at her admiringly. “I can see why you're the boss of the outfit now,” he said. “Are you always as efficient as this?”
     Gerda looked over her shoulder at him with her hard green eyes. “I have to be,” she said. “You aren't a great help, are you?”
     Denny scowled. “You didn't give me much time,” he retorted.
     She got to her feet. “Don't let's fight,” she said. “Suppose you change too. I've had a look in the pantry. There's some food there. I guess we can make ourselves quite at home.”
     Denny scratched his head. “Bit rough on the owners,” he observed.
     “I see you haven't my philosophy,” Gerda returned, moving across the room to the door. “Still, you have plenty of money, haven't you? Leave them something. That's what money is for, isn't it?”
     Denny undressed quickly after she had gone, and gave himself a brisk rub down with a towel. He couldn't help thinking how much more pleasant it would have been to be in this house with Stella alone. He dressed in a pair of flannel trousers and heavy sweater over a white silk shirt and took his wet clothes into the kitchen.
     Gerda, dressed in a dark red dressing-gown, her long slender feet in a pair of Turkish slippers, was preparing a meal. On the table close at hand stood a large cocktail-shaker and three glasses.