Blue Field(33)

Ha, she said.

He parted his lips in an exaggerated smile and wiggled the gum between his front upper and lower teeth before sucking the wad back in his mouth. Just a little conversation, he said.

Not much later Rand cut from the highway for a secondary road through forest and Bowman buzzed down his window and hawked. Sweltering air oozed inside. When the road petered into a rutted dirt path, the truck bounced past abandoned refrigerators and swollen cardboard boxes and lumpy torn trash bags. Rand clung to the wheel and Bowman braced against the door with one arm, the top of the bench seat with the other, which grazed her shoulders. The vegetation thickened into twisting vines over tangled trees and the path became a branch-whipped tunnel. Bowman clicked off his seatbelt and thrust his upper torso out the window, balancing on the sill. Yee-haw, he called and Rand slowed and Bowman drew back inside and sidled sideways so that his back was against the door, his legs heavy on Marilyn’s. He knitted his fingers together behind his neck. Now that I’ve got you two kids here, he said.

Rand jumped the brake, pitching Marilyn and Bowman forward into the dash. You didn’t get us f*cking lost, did you? Rand said. Get out of this truck and f*cking walk, in front of us. You find that f*cking site.

Bowman chuckled. Up ahead, he said and resettled in the passenger seat to face forward. I’m just f*cking with you. Fuck’s sake. You, my friend, are no fun to be around.

The truck rolled again. Dick, Rand said.

Bowman leaned forward and cupped his hands over her ears. Language, he said to Rand. Try to use your nice words. You dick.

Rand drove on, double-fisted. Leaves shushed against both sides of the truck and branches niggled like small creatures on the roof. Suddenly Bowman drum-rolled on his knees and cried, Here-here, and the truck lurched to a halt. Cramps seized her and she lunged for the door handle, but Bowman nose-to-nosed her and she cringed back into her seat. Uh-yup, he said lightly.

Looks not in the slightest familiar, Rand said, after a few seconds.

You stupid bastard, Bowman drawled. You were here, what, year and a half ago? With me. And not this one but the other one. And that is a long time no see. Meanwhile a whole jungle springs up. Can hardly tell one f*cking thing from another. You should f*cking know.

Your mouth? Rand said through gritted teeth. Watch it?

Ouchy, Bowman said. You okay, guy? I’ve been worrying about the princess here. But maybe it’s you I should be keeping my eye on.

Then he cracked open the door and slid out. Marilyn made to follow and he caught her. For a second her legs swung uselessly against his as he tamped the ground then planted her firmly. This what you want, princess? he asked. A little fresh air?

She lodged her hands against his chest for balance. She could feel the ridge of muscle beneath the layer of baby fat. Sure boss, she gasped, then rammed into the thicket where she yanked at her pants and crouched. She pressed her lips together to keep from moaning while the stench rose around her.

When she returned to the truck Rand was already suited, rig readied and waiting upright on the truck’s gate. Bowman held Rand’s harness straps and he hunkered in and adjusted and slogged out of sight. Bowman dragged her doubles and gear box from the back of the truck, then wordlessly scrutinized her preparations before helping her into her harness, his legs straddling hers as he tented open the straps. She let him attach her suit whip to her intake valve over her left breast and gently press it in place. Then he clapped his palms to the side of her face. You’re the boss, he said, lips close to hers. Don’t you forget.

A tremendous drowsiness hazed her head. She should call this one. For real. He hooked his hands under her armpits and guided her to the side of the truck’s gate. Sit pretty for a minute, he told her, and busied himself with his own equipment.

Sweat splashed her eyes and black rings floated across her vision but a single thought lit her head. Wait, she said. Did Jane forget?

He snapped his valves and clipped his lights, then steamed full speed into the bracken. Marilyn trundled after him fast as she could without risking a fall.

Bowman bumped up and down in front of her. A tough nut, he called back after a moment, and then he disappeared, as did the path.

She stopped. Jealousy stirred her acid gut now. What couldn’t Jane do? Just as suddenly, Marilyn felt ashamed. She wobbled a few steps and clung to a tree then let go to shaky-leg down an incline and finally arrive at the sinkhole’s soup of algae and dead leaves. Perhaps twenty feet from the low bank, the men bobbed side by side. Gripping first a tree trunk and then its exposed roots and then sparse tufts of reedy grass, she backed into the basin and paddled out. As if saluting each other, they all three raised their arms to vent the air in their wings—and descended to sixty-five feet where, feeling cooler and far less burdened, she knelt on the coarse bottom. She fiddled with her gages and futzed with the strap attaching her primary computer to her forearm, and on second thought tightened it. She checked her gages again, recalculated her turn-pressure—as an inflowing spring Cleargate required a rule of fourths, not thirds. But then she forgot the new numbers, and then the new-new numbers also thrashed from her brain. She was losing precious time, she knew. But still. Things weren’t right and she needed to fix them. Then Bowman rapped her mask. He thrust an okay at her. She tried to gather a quick response but he tried again, and before she could throw an okay back at him he stuck his thumb up. Dive’s over. Now she mustered an emphatic O with her thumb and first finger. He shook his head. No. She held his stare until his expression grew more quizzical. He raised his hand horizontally in the water and fluttered it side to side. Something wrong? She shook her head, then gave an exaggerated shrug and pointed first one direction and then another. Which way? Bowman stared another few seconds and then signalled a different direction. There. Where ten feet away, tops, Rand waited and watched.