Speed limits were something for the distant past; they filled up several times at military stations, grabbing food at the same time, but mostly they kept going. From Mann’s Harbor in North Carolina to the Catoctins was four hundred fifty or so kilometers; they made it in the early afternoon.
“It’s Saturday,” Joe told them, turning off a road and passing through the checkpoint at a little town called Thurmont, then up a small, winding road where the signs read Catoctin Mountain Park. The scenery was beautiful, wild and isolated; it was amazing that there was so quiet a wilderness this close to so many millions.
They turned off on a road where a sign directed them to Cunningham Falls State Park, then got backed up behind three olive drab school busses full of people. Finally they turned, went past a beautiful lake, and down to an enormous parking area.
“Put on the SP armbands and strap on the pistols under the seats,” Joe told them. He was already doing so himself. “We’re going to be three cops—me the old hand and you two being introduced to the area. All of these people are military having some fun in the water here. Just act new, poke around, and use that phone box over there to make your calls. You have a little money, so get something to eat if you want in the snack bar. Then just wander around, and wait.”
They pulled in near the snack bar just up from the bath houses. Hundreds of men and women were here, playing games in the grass and woods, and making use of the man-made beach to swim and play in the beautiful and large man-made lake.
Joe wandered into the snack bar, and for a few moments, the first in a long while, they were truly on their own.
“Now what?” Sam asked her.
“I’m going to take a shit,” she said. “You get what you like from the snack bar and make your call. I’ll do it later.”
He nodded and she went off. He didn’t feel like eating. What he felt like was getting a bathing suit and joining those people having fun down there on the lake. Still, he was also conscious that this was the place for them to get out of as quickly as possible, and he fumbled in his pocket, found a quarter, and went over to the phone box.
He stared at the phone for a moment, then reached back into his pocket. Yes, he had two quarters. He sighed, put a quarter in the phone, heard the dial tone, then dialed the number that was supposed to bring the next stage of people here. It was an interesting number, unlike any he’d ever heard of before. One-500-555-2323. What was a “500” number, anyway? And wasn’t “555” information?
The phone clicked several times, then rang once, and he heard another picked up. For a second he was confused, somehow conditioned for a response, but now he realized that there would be none. It was probably a recording anyway. “Twenty twenty-five,” he said “Two-oh-two-five.” There was a click, a dead silence at the other end of the line, and, even before he hung up, his quarter came back.
He remembered suddenly his first encounter with this organization, the TV mail-order switchboard, and realized that this number was probably tied to something like that. A perfectly public toll-free number for subversion, he thought. It was somehow ironic; it said something else about the culture.
He considered whether or not to make the other call. He put the quarter in, then hesitated for a long time. Did he, in fact, want to use the FBI signal?
He thought about fascist America, now actually what he’d always claimed it was. He thought of the camps, of the terror, and of the people in this new organization. Most of all, he thought of Suzy.
Did he want to betray them? Deep down? He had to confess to himself that he did not, although those pictures of the Wilderness Organism victims were never far from his mind. Most of all, it was Suzy. She would never be taken alive, he knew that. He couldn’t. Not now. He just couldn’t.
He hung up, got his quarter back, and turned. Suzy was coming toward him.
“God! I feel better!” she enthused. She drew close to him. “Did you make it?”
He nodded.
“Okay, then, go buy us both Cokes. I’ll be with you in a second.”
He turned and walked into the snack bar. He didn’t see Joe around and figured that the older man must have come out while he was on the phone. Almost at the same time as the Cokes came, Suzy was there as well, smiling and nodding to him.
“Let’s go outside. May as well look the place over,” he suggested, and they walked outside.
The staff car was gone.
They walked around a while, looking officious, and talking with some of the people, particularly some of the lower-ranking MPs and SPs on routine patrol. Both bluffed extremely well, and were extremely well briefed for the job, but it wasn’t comfortable. Parading in front of the enemy when one slip could ruin you wasn’t the most pleasant fun in the world; Cornish was only happy that it was hot enough that heat perspiration masked the nervous type.
“I wish they’d come,” he muttered between clenched teeth.
“They’re looking us over good first,” she whispered back. “Want to make sure.”
The hours passed, making it all that much worse, and since their cover had them on duty they couldn’t relax. Suzy almost had a problem when she failed to salute a first lieutenant in uniform but it was glossed over quickly with apologies. Afterwards she swore that one day she’d kill the son of a bitch.
Finally an official-painted green station wagon with the logo of the Maryland Parks Service pulled up next to them. A young woman in park ranger garb and Smokey the Bear hat leaned out the window and peered at them through dark sunglasses.
“Hey!” she called to them. They went over to her.
“One-500-555-2323,” she said softly to them. “Get in.”
They got in, still sweating, and moved off.
“I thought you’d never get here,” Sam said, relieved.
“Only the first step,” the woman replied. “Remove the gun belts and armbands and put them in that first aid locker back there.” They did as instructed, although reluctant to part with the weapons.
The car turned off onto a dirt road in the middle of the forest. It was marked Official Use Only—Keep Out. At the end of the road was a maintenance shed of some kind, but no people.
“Go into the shed, get rid of your military clothes, and put on the clothing you find there. You also will have new IDs identifying yourself as Maryland State Police undercover.”
They went in and did as instructed. Now they both wore shorts, tee-shirts, and sandals. The new IDs, with badges, looked impressive, and their photos again matched. The clothing fit perfectly.
They walked back out to the ranger, who was leaning against the side of the station wagon.
“Over there you’ll see a trailhead,” she told them. “Take it. Walk a kilometer and a quarter until you reach a small road. You’ll be picked up there. Don’t rush. Your contact will go by several times.”
They started walking. The woods were beautiful this time of year, the air warm and the shade of the giant trees invitingly romantic.
“I could stay around here forever,” Sam told Suzy. “Sort of like Vermont. You know some of those trees back at the lake were maples?” He looked at her, seeing that she was sharing some of the same feelings.
“If we had a blanket it’d be real neat,” she whispered sexily. They kissed long and hard there, then, after a while, arms around each other, they continued down the trail to the road.
The reason why their contact passed here several times was that he ran a shuttle bus. He was a teenager, no more, in an Army private’s uniform. His bus was empty.
He pulled up to them as they sat by the roadside. “Hey! You the state cops?” he yelled.