Eric Flint - Time spike

Not quite. But he's still serving time." Her body shifted a little. By now, they were both suffering from long immobility, and she had an aching wound to boot. But Elaine was still being careful. No one outside the wrappings would have noticed the slight motion-and their bodies were shifting back and forth anyway, because of the swaying of the litter. "I'm not a fairy-tale princess, born and raised in Disneyland. My family's just one generation away-thanks to my dad, who got a decent factory job and then worked his ass off-from dirt poor Cairo black people. That's not Cairo, Egypt, neither. It's Cairo, Illinois. You ever been there?" "No. I know where it is, but I've never visited." "Don't bother. Unless you got a thing for rusted out old cars and cheap trailers on cinder blocks." This time, he did chuckle. "Not much chance of that, these days." "Tell me about it.

That leads to my next question. Do you have a girl?" "Inprison? Look, whatever you may have heard, not all convicts-" "I didn't mean it that way. Sorry. What I meant was, did you have… Is there anybody you're pining after, so to speak? You know, the girl you left behind."

He couldn't figure out where she was going with all this. "No. I broke up with the girlfriend I had-well, she broke up with me-not long before the fight. Part of the reason I was in such a bad mood, that Friday night." Again, her body shifted a little. Impossibly as it seemed, she was pressing against him even more closely. "Good. That makes everything easy. Well, James Cook, you got a girl now. And I'm giving you fair warning. I catch you fooling around with any other woman, you'll wish you'd never been born." He stared at nothing. There was a little open shell around their faces, but the blanket wasn't more than an inch or two away at any point. Bostic had wrapped the entire thing around their heads. It wasn't quite what you'd call pitch dark, but almost. That was too bad, because he really wanted to be able to look at her face. Badly. "You don't even know me, Elaine."

"That's true. But if we survive, I'll have plenty for time for that.

Right now, I'm concentrating on the basics." James didn't know what to say. For one of the very few times in his life-the only time, actually, that he could remember-he was literally struck speechless.

He didn't even entertain the possibility that the woman might be joking. He didn't know Elaine Brown, either, but somehow he knew she wasn't kidding at all. Which… Was pretty basic knowledge, now that he thought about it. In a world full of rampaging felons, conquistadores and giant reptiles. "I spent eight days down there," she murmured. "The worst eight days of my life. Not even that. Days that were worse than anything I could have imagined, before it happened. I never really thought I had a chance, all that time, but I just set that aside. And every day-every hour-I promised myself that if I did survive, I would never again, not ever in my life, waste a single moment on bullshit. And I was never much of one for bullshit in the first place." He still didn't know what to say. She giggled. And didn't try to suppress it, this time. "Speaking of bullshit, are you really going to tell me that's a gun in your pocket? I might even believe it, almost. Seeing as it's now been solid as a rock for longer than any hard-on I ever saw. Or even heard about from my girlfriend Sara, who saw a lot more than I did." Incredibly, he felt a stab of jealousy, at the thought of her and another man's- Was he going as nuts as the girl? "Well. Answer me." There was something relentless about the little woman. "Isit a gun in your pocket?" He probably flushed. And, for a very brief moment, was thankful for the darkness.

"No, it's not. But look, lady-Elaine. You can't make… I mean, I've been locked up for…" He was fumbling all over the place. And the more he fumbled, the more he realized he was fumbling in bullshit.

He'dnever had this reaction to a woman. Not even when he'd been a teenager with his tongue hanging out at every pretty girl who walked by and had gone without sex for a lot longer than he had since he got in trouble in the bar brawl. "I intend to stay alive, James Cook. Do my very, very best. And help anyone else I can to do the same who deserves to. I've got no time any more for fooling around. I need a man, in a world full of monsters. I want a man. And you're him." "You don't know me-" "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whether you're the perfect man for me. You probably aren't. I can tell you right now I'll ride herd on you about the liquor. I'd hate liquor even if my church wasn't against it. I've seen way too many people get fucked up that way." That wasn't a problem. James hadn't had a drink since the fight. And had promised himself he never would again, either. He'd seen way too much of that himself, starting with his father and two of his uncles. All of whom had spent some time in prison, and always for something involving booze. "But it doesn't matter what faults you have, James. We all have faults. As long as there isn't anything just plain twisted inside of you-that's why I asked the first question, just to be sure-I'll deal with whatever else I have to." "I don't actually have too many faults, I think. No more'n usual, anyway. My temper's fine when I'm sober." Honesty made him add: "Okay, I'm probably too jealous. That's why my girlfriend broke up with me, and… Well. She had at least some right on her side." "Won't be no problem. I never played around even as a girl. And I get pretty possessive myself. Now, in this world…" He could feel her head shake a little. "You really don't understand, James. I don't think anyone could, who didn't go through those eight days. It wouldn't matter if, tomorrow, I did meet my 'perfect man.' The handsomest man in the world, smarter'n Einstein, sunnier than the sun, you name it."

She nuzzled him softly. "All the things you aren't, exactly." He would have chuckled, except the nuzzle paralyzed him. Sent a spike right down from his skull to his toes. She shook her head again. "They still wouldn't be the man who came down to hell and got me out. No man ever will, except you, even if I live to be a hundred. Which I might, if the dinosaurs don't get me. Women in my family live a long time, if they stay away from liquor." From the feel of her head, he thought she was looking at him. He couldn't wait until he could finally look into those dark eyes again. The feeling was almost scary. Except it was too exhilarating. "You ever hear where little ducklings-or maybe it's chicklets-get imprinted by the first thing they see when they come out of the shell? Whatever it is, that's momma." "Yeah," he said. "Don't know if it's true." "Well, it's true with me. Like it or not, fella, you done went and imprinted yourself on me, down in that basement of hell. James Cook. My man. Way it is. Get used to it." He laughed outright, then. They had to be far enough away from the prison, by now. And he couldn't possibly have contained it anyway. *** Danny Bostic was genuinely fascinated, by the time they got well into the woods and could stop to set down the litter. Had Cook managed to getlaid in there? It sounded like it, between his laughter and the happy little noises the girl was making. Apparently not. At least, when they cut away the tape and unwrapped the sheets, all the clothes seemed to be in order. And he'd forgotten about the girl's stab wound. As passionate as she might be, there was no way she'd have been able to have sex. Not and be smiling at the man like that afterward. Still, it was impressive. For at least twenty seconds after the blanket was removed, the two of them just stared each other in the eyes, both smiling from ear to ear, as if they'd met for the first time and fallen instantly in love. Cook's smile was the first honest-to-God expression he'd ever seen on the Indian's face. And Brown's smile… He had to look away. The temptation to break the deal and snatch the girl got almost overwhelming, for a moment.