He was anxious to head west again. Continuing in the direction they were going would take them to the ocean, all right: the Arctic Ocean. He didn’t much care for cold country.
“Will you relax?” She gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder. “We’ve lost them. Can’t you tell? They don’t even know what kind of vehicle you’re traveling in, or if you’re on a bus, or a plane, much less where you are.”
He divided his attention between her and the relentlessly spectacular scenery. “You didn’t meet these people. I did. They’re not going to give up. If any military base managed to track or record what happened up in the mountains last night, sooner or later connections are going to be made with Jed. Right now they’re trying to keep it quiet, but if the story breaks wide, my face will be in every paper and on every evening newscast within an hour.”
“And a very nice face it is, too.” Her trivializing of the situation was disarming. “You really think anyone’s going to take those saucer people seriously?”
“I suppose not.”
“ten calm down, Ross Ed. Enjoy the ride.” She grinned and nodded toward the back. “Take a lesson from your friend.”
Indeed, there was no disputing that of the three occupants of the van, the alien was by far the most relaxed. An unfair comparison, Ross knew, because in Jed’s case it was a permanent condition.
An hour later they pulled over so Ross could take the wheel for a while. He flinched when she picked the body up and set him in her lap, arranging the three arms in a kind of tripartite fold. Crossing the three legs was more difficult; left over center, center over right. The result left Jed looking like a spurious fugitive from Sesame Street. The intimate, repeated physical contact had no visible effect on her.
“Don’t you think you should put him back on the floor? What if somebody seems him?”
“What if they do?” Raising one alien arm, she let it flap loosely at a passing car. “What do they see? A man and a woman cruising along in their van, enjoying the scenery. If they look real close they might see that the woman has a very strange doll or a real ugly baby in her lap. I feel sorry for poor Jed. How’d you like to ride all the way to California lying on the floor? Just drive, Ross Ed. We’re not going to stop any traffic up here.”
By unspoken mutual agreement they let the radio occupy the conversational space for a while. Eventually Ross turned back to her. “You know, Caroline, you’ve been awfully good to me throughout this whole crazy business.”
“Don’t think I don’t know it. I told you why.”
“I’m not looking for any kind of long-term relationship.”
“Ever had one?”
He told her about his own two marriages.
“Naw,” she decided when he’d finished the distressing recitation, “you never have. You can be married to someone without having a real relationship. I know; I’ve done both.”
“Just the same, don’t get any ideas. I like you, Caroline, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“What, moi, get ideas?” Her eyes widened as she placed her fingers over her cleavage. “Why, Ross Ed, I would never think of such a thing. I’m just helping you make it to California.”
“Just so long as we understand each other.”
“Right.” The van banged as they hit a pothole. “You know, you give me a funny look every time I touch Jed.” Holding the alien by the shoulders, she turned it toward her. “Doesn’t he?” Shaking it back and forth, she managed to induce in the head and neck a passable imitation of a nod.
Ross clenched his teeth. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?” She was honestly bemused. “What’s the problem?”
He couldn’t forget the night in Lordsburg: the gun and the addlepated bullets. “When people … touch … Jed, they sometimes see things. Other times, stuff happens.”
“Is that all? Look what happened last night.”
“No, not like that. I mean, personal things. Your surroundings don’t act natural. Pictures form in the mind.”
“Are you talking about telekinesis and telepathy? That’s fantasy. Besides, he’s dead.” Her eyes were inches from the alien’s own. They didn’t stare back.
“I don’t reckon it has anything to do with Jed. Obviously, he can’t do anything. But the suit’s another matter.”
“Well, I’ve picked him up, turned him around, bounced him in my lap, played with his limbs, tossed him in back, and I haven’t felt or seen a single thing out of the ordinary.”
“I guess he, or his suit, likes you. Or at least doesn’t see you as a threat. Or maybe, just maybe, there’s no rhyme or reason to it. Maybe sometimes the suit reacts to contact and sometimes it doesn’t.” He told her about Lordsburg.
“That’s quite a story.” Her attitude had become less flippant and she regarded the alien in her lap with new respect. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it only reacts to certain people. Something in their brain waves, or their movements. Personally, I think both Jed and his suit are comfortable with us. Can’t you see how he’s enjoying the scenery? He’s hardly taken his eyes off the road.” Her cheeks dimpled.
He studied the console. “I’d feel better if we had some coolant along. It’s getting hot outside.”
She was shaking her head slowly. ‘there’s a whole gallon in the back right storage bin. You really don’t know how to relax, do you?”
“Yeah, I do,” he objected. “Guess I might as well, since you seem to have thought of everything.”
“Coolant, jumper cables, spare fan belt, tools. Dead alien. Your name it, I’ve got it on board.” She jiggled Jed on her lap. “Oversized testosterone unit who doesn’t know when he’s well off. Oh yeah, I always travel properly equipped.”
He could only grunt by way of response, unselfconsciously confirming her evaluation.
As they slowed to pass through small towns with unpronounceable names, no one looked at them twice. Thousands of tourists made the look-see loop through the reservations and the locals were accustomed to strange vehicles and their even stranger occupants.
When the road finally turned west toward the great unbroken gash in the earth known as the Grand Canyon, Ross Ed’s energy level rose perceptibly. Eventually they’d swing south to pick up Interstate 40. If they weren’t confronted there he suspected that it would be clear sailing all the way to California.
Exhausted from the previous long, late night, they stopped early at a motel in Tuba City. Ross checked in while Caroline struggled to squeeze the van into one of the few shady parking spots.
The clerk who checked them in spared him the embarrassment of trying to decide what sort of accommodations to request by announcing regretfully that every room in the motel came equipped with twin beds. The formalities concluded, they found their room, cranked the air-conditioning to the max, and did what little unpacking was required.
The clerk, whose name was John Qaannasqatszi, watched through one of the heavily tinted office windows as the newcomers moved in. They seemed to have no luggage at all. Not that it was any of his business. The switchboard buzzed as other guests demanded his services.
