Harvey looked at her in astonishment. She eyed him calmly. His dislike of her boiled up inside him. He wanted to scream at her, to ruffle her. Didn’t she realize… ?
“How did you get here?” he demanded.
When she answered, he was ashamed of himself. Marie Vance spoke calmly; too calmly. There was an undertone of unnatural effort in her voice. “I came up the ridge. There were cars in the way, but some men moved them. I went — Why do you want to know how I got here, Harvey?”
He laughed, at himself, at the world, and she was frightened at his laughter. He could see the fear come into her eyes.
Mark drove up on the motorcycle. He looked at the Cadillac, then at Marie. He didn’t whistle. “Your neighbor?” he asked.
“Yes. Marie, you’ll have to come with us. You can’t stay at your place—”
“I’ve no intention of staying at my place,” she said. “I’m going to find my son. And Gordie,” she added, after a tiny pause. She looked down at her gold-colored sandals. “When I get some clothes… Harvey, where is… ?” Before she could finish she saw the pain, then the numbness in Harvey’s eyes. “Loretta?” she said, her voice low and wondering.
Harvey said nothing. Mark, behind him, shook his head slowly. His eyes met Marie’s. She nodded.
Harvey Randall turned away. He stood in the rain, saying nothing, looking at nothing.
“Leave the Caddy and get in the TravelAII,” Mark said.
“No.” Marie tried to smile. “Please, can’t you wait until I get some clothes? Harvey—”
“He’s not making decisions just now,” Mark said. “Look, there’ll be clothes. Not much food, but plenty of clothes.”
“I have perfectly good outdoor equipment at home.” Marie was firm. She knew how to talk to employees, Gordie’s or Harvey’s. “And boots that fit. I am very hard to fit. You can’t tell me that ten minutes will make that much difference.”
“It’ll take longer than ten minutes, and we don’t have any time at all,” Mark said.
“It certainly will take longer if we stand here talking about it.” Marie started the car. She began moving forward, slowly. “Please wait for me,” she said, and drove away, south.
“Jesus,” Mark said. “Harv? What…?” He let his question stay unfinished. Harvey Randall wasn’t making decisions just now. “Get in the goddam car, Harv!” Mark ordered.
The bark in Mark’s voice moved Harvey toward the TravelAII. He started to get into the driver’s seat. Mark growled, “Joanna, take the bike. I’ll drive.”
“Where… ?”
“Back to Harvey’s place. I guess. Hell, I don’t know what we ought to do. Maybe we ought to just go on.”
“We can’t leave her,” Joanna said firmly. She got out and took the bike. Mark shrugged and climbed into the TravelAII. He managed to turn in a drive and started back the way they’d come, cursing all the way.
When they reached the cul-de-sac, Marie Vance was sitting on her front porch. She wore trousers of an expensive artificial fabric. They were cut in a rugged square pattern and looked very durable. She wore a cotton blouse and a wool Pendleton shirt over it. She was lacing medium-height hiking boots over wool socks. A blanket lay beside her. The blanket was lumpy.
Joanna braked the motorcycle on the lawn. Mark got out and joined her. He stared at Marie, then back at Joanna. “Goddam, that’s the quickest change I’ve ever seen. She could be useful.”
“Depends on for what,” Marie said evenly. “Who are you two, and what’s wrong with Harvey?” She went on lacing her boots.
“His wife was killed. Same outfit that broke into your place,” Mark said. “Listen, where were you going in that Caddy? Is your husband with Andy Randall?”
“Yes, of course,” Marie said. “Andy and Burt are up there. With Gordie.” She tied the boot and stood. “Poor Loretta. She — oh, damn it. Will you tell me your names?”
“Mark. This is Joanna. I worked for Harv—”
“Yes,” Marie said. She’d heard about Mark. “Hello. You’re staying with Harvey, then?”
“Sure—”
“Then let’s go. Please put this bundle in the car. I’ll be right out.”
Hard as fucking nails, Mark thought. Coldest bitch I ever saw. He took the blanket. It was lumpy with clothing and other objects. Marie came out with a plastic travel bag, the kind used to hang clothes when carried on board an airplane. There wasn’t a lot of room in the back of the TravelAII, but she was careful about how she laid it, smoothing out wrinkles.
“What’s all that?” Mark demanded.
“Things I’ll need. I’m ready now.”
“Can you drive Harv’s buggy?”
“On roads,” Marie said. “I’ve never tried to drive except on roads. But I can handle a stick shift.”
“Good. You drive. It’s too big for Joanna.”
“I can manage.”
“Sure, Jo, but you don’t have to,” Mark said. “Let Miz-”
“Marie.”
“Let Miz Marie-”
She laughed. Hard. “It’s just Marie. And I’ll drive. Do you have maps? I don’t have a good map. I know the boys are up near the southern edge of Sequoia National Park, but I’m not sure how to get there.” Dressed in trousers and wool shirt, thin nylon jacket she’d brought from the house, hiking boots, she looked smaller than Mark remembered, and somehow less competent. Mark had no time to wonder why.
She’ll have to do, Mark thought. “I’ll lead on the bike. Joanna will ride shotgun in the car. I think we ought to put Harv in the back seat. Maybe if he gets some sleep his brain will turn on again. Christ, I never saw a guy go to pieces like that before. It’s like he killed her himself.” Mark saw Marie’s eyes widen slightly. To hell with that, he thought. He went to the bike and kicked it into life.
They went back out, turned north again. The road was deserted. Mark wondered where to go now. He could ask Harv, but would he get the right answer, and how would he know if he did? Why the hell is he so broke up about it, Mark wondered. She wasn’t much wife anyway. Never went anywhere with Harv. Good-looker, but not much of a companion. Why get so broke up? If Mark had to bury Joanna he’d hate it, but it wouldn’t break him apart. He’d still function, and he’d turn a glass over for her next time he had a drink — and Harv had always been tough.
Mark glanced at his watch. Getting late. Time to move fast, through what was left of Burbank and the San Fernando Valley. How? If the freeways weren’t down they’d be packed with cars. No good. He thought of routes, and wished Harvey’s head was working again, but it wasn’t and it was up to Mark to lead. When he reached Mulholland he turned left.
The horn sounded behind him. Marie had stopped at the intersection. “This isn’t the way!” she shouted.
“Sure it is. Come on!”
“No.”
God damn it. Mark drove back to the TravelAII. Marie and Joanna sat tensely in the front seat. The shotgun was poised in Joanna’s hands, pointing upward; Marie sat with one arm carelessly near the gun. She was a lot bigger than Joanna.
“What is this?” Mark demanded.
“The boys. We are going to find our boys,” Marie said. “And they are east of us, not west.”
“Hell, I know that,” Mark shouted. “This is the best way. Stay on high ground. We get across the valley on Topanga, stay along the Santa Susanna hills and go up through the canyons. That keeps us off the freeways and out of the passes where everybody else will be.”
Marie frowned, trying to imagine a map of the L.A. basin. Then she nodded. That route would take them to Sequoia She started the car moving again.
Mark roared on ahead. As he drove he muttered to himself. Frank Stoner had said the Mojave was the place to be. Stoner knew everything. It was good enough for Mark. It was a place to go, and once there they could figure out what to do next. It was a destination.