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Authors: David Morrell
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stared at her.
“You’d return to me sometime in Lent—that’s what you promised.” She tenderly kissed his forehead. “Each day before Easter, I waited, hoping. When you didn’t come this first year, I worried that you’d never come.”
“No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” he said.
“I love you.”
With a tremble, he touched her arm. “And now my exile’s over? They’ve pardoned me?”
She hesitated.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not pardoned,” she said. “You’re being summoned. ‘To pursue your calling’ is how the priest described it.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“There’s something they want you to do for them.” Troubled, she glanced away. “It’s the only condition under which they’ll let you leave. When the priest told me where you were, I grabbed at the chance to see you again, just to be with you. Since you ran away that night, I’ve never felt so empty. Losing you the first time, and then …” She finally looked at him again.
He studied her eyes. “Arlene?”
She waited.
“What do they want?”
“That’s the problem. The priest wouldn’t tell me. He sent me here. To talk to you. To convince you. To bring you to him.”
6
A t sunset, she helped him squirm from the cave. The evening’s lower temperature made the heat that radiated from the rocks feel soothing. In the last light of day, she unsheathed her survival knife and snicked its edge across his hair and beard. When she’d finished, he looked like, in her words, “a sexy ascetic by El Greco.”
She stripped off his robe and sloshed water from her canteen all over his body, washing him thoroughly. She dressed him and cautiously fed him. Before the sun completely faded, she went down the slope toward the cluster of rocks around the spring, refilled the canteen, and returned to the cave.
By then, night cloaked them. In his cell, she lay huddled next to him, her pelvis against his hips, spoonlike, giving him warmth.
“Water’s not a problem,” she said.
“But food is.”
“Right. There’s enough for me, but not enough for you to regain your strength. How are we going to manage to cross the desert?”
“I’ve got an idea,” he said.
7
A t dawn, she waited, poised with her knife. When the lizard crawled from beneath its rock, she stabbed it, skinned it, and cut it into strips. The lizard, after all, did have a purpose. The strips of its flesh, spread out in front of the cave, baked in the sun. She brought them inside to Drew, who bit off a piece and chewed until it was like gruel and would not offend his stomach.
“I used to hate the thing,” he said.
“And now?”
“I’m sorry it died for me. It’s a part of me. I love it.”
8
T hey left at night. He’d gained sufficient strength to stay on his feet, provided he leaned against Arlene. Taking their direction from stars, they plodded across the desert. He shivered against her. With her arm around his back, she felt him sweating. But as long as he was sweating, she didn’t worry. Sweat meant his body fluid had been replenished.
They rested frequently, eating the last of their food, trying not to fall asleep. At dawn, they reached a pass between low hills. She exhaled in distress. The pass was near where her car had failed, halfway between Drew’s cave and the village. They hadn’t walked far enough. In a couple of hours, the heat would be so intense they’d have to stop and put up the canvas sheet. They wouldn’t be able to proceed again until late afternoon. At the earliest, they wouldn’t reach the village till tomorrow morning, provided they maintained the pace they’d set throughout thenight. But now that their food was gone, Drew’s strength would diminish rapidly. Already she could feel him leaning more heavily against her. If they didn’t reach the village by the morning, they’d have to stop and rest again throughout the next day, and by then Drew might be so weak that she’d never be
“You’d return to me sometime in Lent—that’s what you promised.” She tenderly kissed his forehead. “Each day before Easter, I waited, hoping. When you didn’t come this first year, I worried that you’d never come.”
“No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” he said.
“I love you.”
With a tremble, he touched her arm. “And now my exile’s over? They’ve pardoned me?”
She hesitated.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not pardoned,” she said. “You’re being summoned. ‘To pursue your calling’ is how the priest described it.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“There’s something they want you to do for them.” Troubled, she glanced away. “It’s the only condition under which they’ll let you leave. When the priest told me where you were, I grabbed at the chance to see you again, just to be with you. Since you ran away that night, I’ve never felt so empty. Losing you the first time, and then …” She finally looked at him again.
He studied her eyes. “Arlene?”
She waited.
“What do they want?”
“That’s the problem. The priest wouldn’t tell me. He sent me here. To talk to you. To convince you. To bring you to him.”
6
A t sunset, she helped him squirm from the cave. The evening’s lower temperature made the heat that radiated from the rocks feel soothing. In the last light of day, she unsheathed her survival knife and snicked its edge across his hair and beard. When she’d finished, he looked like, in her words, “a sexy ascetic by El Greco.”
She stripped off his robe and sloshed water from her canteen all over his body, washing him thoroughly. She dressed him and cautiously fed him. Before the sun completely faded, she went down the slope toward the cluster of rocks around the spring, refilled the canteen, and returned to the cave.
By then, night cloaked them. In his cell, she lay huddled next to him, her pelvis against his hips, spoonlike, giving him warmth.
“Water’s not a problem,” she said.
“But food is.”
“Right. There’s enough for me, but not enough for you to regain your strength. How are we going to manage to cross the desert?”
“I’ve got an idea,” he said.
7
A t dawn, she waited, poised with her knife. When the lizard crawled from beneath its rock, she stabbed it, skinned it, and cut it into strips. The lizard, after all, did have a purpose. The strips of its flesh, spread out in front of the cave, baked in the sun. She brought them inside to Drew, who bit off a piece and chewed until it was like gruel and would not offend his stomach.
“I used to hate the thing,” he said.
“And now?”
“I’m sorry it died for me. It’s a part of me. I love it.”
8
T hey left at night. He’d gained sufficient strength to stay on his feet, provided he leaned against Arlene. Taking their direction from stars, they plodded across the desert. He shivered against her. With her arm around his back, she felt him sweating. But as long as he was sweating, she didn’t worry. Sweat meant his body fluid had been replenished.
They rested frequently, eating the last of their food, trying not to fall asleep. At dawn, they reached a pass between low hills. She exhaled in distress. The pass was near where her car had failed, halfway between Drew’s cave and the village. They hadn’t walked far enough. In a couple of hours, the heat would be so intense they’d have to stop and put up the canvas sheet. They wouldn’t be able to proceed again until late afternoon. At the earliest, they wouldn’t reach the village till tomorrow morning, provided they maintained the pace they’d set throughout thenight. But now that their food was gone, Drew’s strength would diminish rapidly. Already she could feel him leaning more heavily against her. If they didn’t reach the village by the morning, they’d have to stop and rest again throughout the next day, and by then Drew might be so weak that she’d never be
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