This Perfect Day

"Would they do that?" she asked. "Risk coming ashore?"

"Yes," he said, "I think they would, away from the city."

"But wouldn't they be more likely to go to Eur? It's nearer."

"We'll just have to hope they come to Afr too," he said. "And I want to get some things from the city for us to trade when we get there, things that they're likely to put a value on. We'll have to think about that."

"Is there any chance that we can find a boat?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he said. "There aren't any offshore islands, so there aren't likely to be any powerboats around. Of course, there are always amusement-garden rowboats, but I can't see us rowing two hundred and eighty kilometers; can you?"

"It's not impossible," she said.

"No," he said, "if worse comes to worst. But I'm counting on traders, or maybe even some kind of organized rescue operation. Majorca has to defend itself, you see, because Uni knows about it; it knows about all the islands. So the members there might keep a lookout for newcomers, to increase their population, increase their strength."

"I suppose they might," she said.

There was another rain night, and they sat together with a blanket around them in the inmost narrow corner of their place, tight between the high rock spurs. He kissed her and tried to work open the top of her coveralls, but she stopped his hand with hers. "I know it doesn't make sense," she said, "but I still have a little of that only-on-Saturday-night feeling. Please? Could we wait till then?"

"It doesn't make sense," he said.

"I know," she said, "but please? Could we wait?"

After a moment he said, "Sure, if you want to."

"I do, Chip," she said.

They read, and decided on the best things to take from '082 for trading. He checked over the bikes and she did calisthenics, did them longer and more purposefully than he did.

On Saturday night he came back from the stream and she stood holding the gun, pointing it at him, her eyes narrowed hatingly. "He called me before he did it," she said.

He said, "What are you—" and "King!" she cried. "He called me! You lying, hating—" She squeezed the gun's trigger.

She squeezed it again, harder. She looked at the gun and looked at him.

"There's no generator," he said.

She looked at the gun and looked at him, drawing a deep breath through flaring nostrils.

"Why the hate do you—" he said, and she swept back the gun and threw it at him; he raised his hands and it hit him in the chest, making pain and no air in him.

"Go with you?" she said. "Fuck with you? After you killed him? Are you—are you fou, you green-eyed cochon, chien, batard!"

He held his chest, found breath. "Didn't kill him!" he said. "He killed himself, Lilac! Christ and-"

"Because you lied to him! Lied about us! Told him we'd been-"

"That was his idea; I told him it wasn't true! I told him and he wouldn't believe me!"

"You admitted it," she said. "He said he didn't care, we deserved each other, and then he tapped off and—"

"Lilac," he said, "I swear by my love of the Family, I told him it wasn't true!"

"Then why did he kill himself?"

"Because he knew!"

"Because you told him!" she said, and turned and grabbed up her bike—its basket was packed—and rammed it against the branches piled at the place's front.

He ran and caught the back of the bike, held it with both hands. "You stay here!" he said.

"Let go of it!" she said, turning.

He took the bike at its middle, wrenched it away from her, and flung it aside. He grabbed her arm. She hit at him but he held her. "He knew about the islands!" he said. "The islands! He'd been near one, traded with the members! That's how I know they come ashore!"

She stared at him. "What are you talking about?" she said.

"He'd had an assignment near one of the islands," he said. "The Falklands, off Arg. And he'd met the members and traded with them. He hadn't told us because he knew we would want to go, and he didn't want to! That's why he killed himself! He knew you were going to find out, from me, and he was ashamed of himself, and tired, and he wasn't going to be 'King' any more."

"You're lying to me the way you lied to him," she said, and tore her arm free, her coveralls splitting at the shoulder.

"That's how he got the perfume and tobacco seeds," he said.

"I don't want to hear you," she said. "Or see you. I'm going by myself." She went to her bike, picked up her kit and the blanket trailing from it.

"Don't be stupid," he said.

She righted the bike, dumped the kit in the basket, and jammed the blanket in on top of it. He went to her and held the bike's seat and handlebar. "You're not going alone," he said.

"Oh yes I am," she said, her voice quavering. They held the bike between them. Her face was blurred in the growing darkness.

"I'm not going to let you," he said.

"I'll do what he did before I go with you."