The day after: An apocalyptic morning (47 page)

              Skip shrugged. "Adequate payment for protecting the sanctity of this settlement, wouldn't you say?"

              "Stragglers are shot several times a week," she told him. "Do we invite every guard who does that in here to raid our trade goods?"

              "No," he said. "But then they usually don't have to go track them down and shoot at them in the open either. Why don't you cut us a little slack, Jess? Here," he held up the bong. "Let me load you up a nice bonghit. It'll mellow you out."

              "I do not take bonghits," she said with extreme distaste. "I don't know why we even kept that stuff. It's illegal. You of all people should know that."

              "I'll tell you what," he said, reaching in and pulling out another pinch. "When the federal government and the California state government gets its shit back together, reinstates civilization, reenacts the penal code and the drug control act, and gives me a new badge, I'll be the first to seize the supply, okay? Until then, I think I'll just burn it a little bit at a time." He stuffed his pinch in and picked up the lighter.

              Paula giggled again, shaking her head at Skip's quick tongue. Jessica glared at both of them, daggers in her eyes. "In any case," she said sternly, "there is something going on tonight that I thought Skip should be aware of. It is potentially very scandalous and shocking."

              "Oooh, let me guess," Paula said, holding up her hand as Skip took his bong hit. "Someone has snuck out to one of the guard posts to have unauthorized sex?"

              Though this was not particularly funny, Skip and Paula both found it to be in their present condition. Paula erupted into hysterical chuckles while Skip coughed out the carefully prepared inhalation he had just completed, and more than a little saliva. Paula, still giggling, began patting him on the back.

              Jessica did not find this the least bit amusing. "No," she said huffily. "Although that subject is not something that should be laughed at."

              Skip got himself under control, his laughter reluctantly tapering off and dying away. "Of course not," he said, wiping a tear from his eye and giving a few more light coughs. "Forgive me. So what kind of scandal is going on that I should be made aware of during this official debrief session?"

              "It seems," Jessica said, her expression now taking on the barely repressed delight it assumed whenever she was sharing a particularly damaging piece of gossip, "that your young friend, Jack, was seen accompanying our kitchen server, Stacy, to the house that was assigned to her."

              Skip looked up at her, uncomprehending. "That's it? What's the big deal about that? They're friends. I see them talking together when I go in for early breakfast."

              "Jack does have the night off you know," Paula, who had finally gotten herself under control, added helpfully. "He's not skipping out on his detail if that's what you're worried about."

              "She invited him inside," Jessica exclaimed. "And he has not come back out yet!"

              Paula and Skip looked at each other for a moment and then back at Jessica. "How do you know that he hasn't come back out yet?" Skip asked. "Do you have somebody following them around?"

              "Well of course," she said, as if doing such a thing was by-the-book doctrine. "When I saw them leaving together I sent Maggie to see where they were going." She patted a walkie-talkie that was on her belt. "As of five minutes ago, he was still in there, no doubt being molested by that... that... bimbo!"

              Paula's jaw dropped as she heard this. Skip's came close. "Are you telling me," he said slowly and carefully, "that you are using the security division's communications gear to keep track of the activities of two of the townspeople?"

              Jessica scoffed. "Stacy is no more a member of this town than you are," she said. "She worked making coffee before the comet. She's lucky we even let her stay here at all. And now look how she repays us. By corrupting your friend! I always knew she was a shameless slut!"

              "This is unbelievable," Skip whispered.

              "I'm glad you agree with me for once," Jessica said. "Now what are you going to do about it? Are you too drunk to take care of it yourself? I can get Paul and..."

              "You are the one that is unbelievable," Skip interrupted. "Where in the hell do you get off having people followed around like that? What the hell makes you think you have the right to do that?"

              "She is taking advantage of a young boy!" Jessica screamed. "Where do you get off not even acknowledging that fact?"

              "I hardly think Jack is in any danger," Skip said. "In fact, he's probably having the time of his life. If he and Stacy want to boff their brains out, what business is it of yours?"

              "He's fourteen years old!" she reiterated loudly. "Fourteen! Are you saying that you think its okay for a full grown, pregnant hussy like that to take advantage of him?"

              "It's okay for him to kill stragglers for you and protect you while you sleep, but it's not okay for him to get laid?" Skip asked.

              "I never wanted him on guard detail," she said. "And that is beside the point anyway. He is a child that needs to be protected. She is a corrupt woman without any sense of decency! Now, are you going to do anything about this, or should I go get Dale and Paul to do it instead?"

              "There is nothing to be done," Skip said. "Call off your nazi spy that's watching them and leave them alone. Put the communications gear back in the security room where it belongs and don't touch it anymore."

              "You do not give orders to me," she proclaimed.

              "I am in charge of security," Skip said, "and you, committee member or not, are abusing official security department apparatus. Call back your goon, put the shit away, and don't touch it again. You know as well as I do that it is well in my authority to tell you that. So do it!"

              "How dare you..."

              "And no one will bother Stacy and Jack," he added, standing up to face her. "I mean that, Jessica. Leave them alone."

              "Are you threatening me?" she asked, obvious fear in her voice as he towered over her.

              He did not answer her. "Leave them alone," he repeated. "I mean it. What they're doing is none of your business."

              She took a step backwards, her fist clenching in nervousness. "Paul and Dale will hear about this," she said with a voice that was not quite steady. "The committee will take action against you."

              "Groovy," he said. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, after everyone has had a chance to reflect upon the day's events, okay? In the meantime, why don't you do what I told you to and then go back to your house, fuck Dale a couple times, and then start planning your speeches for the meeting tomorrow?"

              "You'll be ejected from this town," she promised, pointing a trembling finger at him. "I promise you that."

              "Whatever will be, will be," he said. "Now, can me and Paula get back to our debriefing? We still have a lot of tequila to get through until we put the painful episode behind us."

              She turned and stomped off, heading towards the main office. Skip watched her go and then sat back down. "So," he said, with a satisfied smile. "Where were we?"

              It didn't take them long to blow off Jessica and her intrusion. All it took was another slammer, another bong-hit, and an animated discussion about Jack and Stacy.

              "You think he'll come out alive?" Paula asked with a laugh.

              "I think he's a very happy man about now," Skip replied. "I'm surprised Jessica didn't have Maggie stick a video camera through a gap in the blinds so she could get a photo record of the corruption in progress."

              "How do you know she hasn't?"

              "True."

              He sighed a little, slumping downward against the wall a bit. "Why is everybody so wrapped up in all of this gossiping and scandal? Everybody does realize that a comet hit the planet and killed everybody, don't they?"

              "Of course they do," Paula said, putting her hand on his leg. "They can't drive their Mercedes or get their hair done in the salon anymore, can they? They only get to take hot baths every third day now, don't they? They are rapidly running out of fingernail polish remover and Oil of Olay, aren't they? You have no idea the hardships these women are enduring. I mean, sure, you've been out in the wilderness fighting off starving outsiders, but they have not seen a new issue of Cosmo or had a decent latte in weeks."

              He eyed her hand for a moment, noting that it was resting about two inches above his knee, seemingly companionably. He then looked up at her. "I guess I just haven't appreciated all that everyone has been through in here," he replied.

              She inched a little closer to him, her hand sliding up a few more inches. It gave a little squeeze of his thigh, a squeeze that felt very good. "They're in a huge state of culture shock," she said. "Everyone is. You can't just live under one set of ideals all of your life and then change in a few days. Give them a while and they'll slowly start to come around."

              "I'll believe that when I see it," he said, starting to feel guilty now for enjoying her touch upon his leg and not doing anything about it. What would Christine think if she saw this or heard about it? Despite the estrangement between them, he did not wish to lose her. And though he could pretend that Paula was just caressing his leg in friendship, he knew, even through his haze of drunkenness, that that was not really the case.

              As if to prove this point, she inched her hand even higher, so that it was about halfway between his knee and his groin. She edged her hips over a few more inches as well, so that their shoulders were touching. He could feel her warmth through her clothing. "I've become very fond of you these last few weeks," she said to him softly.

              "Have you?" he said, not looking at her, only looking at her hand, which continued to inch upward.

              "I didn't think I would at first," she said. "When you gave me that speech about my not having a chance with you, I thought it was funny. I never thought that I would be the least bit interested in someone like you. I figured that you were sort of a dull person. You know? Efficient at what you did, reasonably smart, but without much personality otherwise. That's how I always pictured cops, pilots, and soldiers. Whenever I wrote about one in a short story or one of my many failed novels, that's always how I portrayed them: serious but dull."

              "That sounds like me all right," he said weakly, his penis now hardening.

              "Give yourself a little credit," she said, leaning closer and whispering the words into his ears. He could now feel her breast pushing against his shoulder. "You're very witty, very funny, and very good looking. You care Skip. That's what really gets to me. You care about all of these shallow people you're protecting. You're not just going for free room and board."

              "Paula," he said, pulling away from her and breaking the contact; everything except her hand on his leg, she refused to give that up. "This is a bad idea."

              "Oh?" she said pointedly. "And why is that?"

              "Because I'm in charge of the guard force and you're one of the guards," he said.

              " Christine is one of the guards," she said, "and yet you sleep with her, don't you?"

              He nearly choked as he heard these words. His erection wilted in an instant and adrenaline went shooting through his veins, sobering him up considerably. Paula simply smiled at him.

              "Or at least you were," she continued, "until you had a fight on your fifth or sixth day here. You haven't been really speaking to each other or doing anything else since then. The fight was probably about what happened your first night with Missy. I imagine Christine told you what she heard and you didn't deny it. Am I right so far?"

              "How... how... how do you know this?" he asked numbly. "Did Christine talk to you?"

              She shook her head. " Christine and I talk a little bit, usually at breakfast and dinner, but she never told me that. She's keeping your secret."

              "Then who told you?"

              "You and Christine did," she said. "Although not with your mouths. Do you remember a little while ago when I told you that writers are very observant people? I wasn't kidding. If you just pay attention to people's body language, you can learn a lot about them. Hell, you should know that. Don't cops do the same thing?"

              He ignored her question. "Are you telling me that you just figured this out by watching us?"

              "Yep," she agreed. "When you two were first voted in, I could see that you and Christine were very close to each other. Much closer than a man and a platonic friend are. I could tell that you had great affection for each other but that you were restraining it when you were in public. You always made certain that you did not touch each other in any way, that your eyes never met with that teasing, knowing little smile that lovers share. But at the same time, when you thought that nobody was paying attention to you, you would share that look, just for a moment. You would pass a little telepathic signal back and forth with your eyes. She loves you, Skip, and I suspect that you love her as well."