Chapter 23
A piteous little moan broke the steady rhythm of Sheryl Lee’s gentle breathing. The fingers of her right hand clutched at Rick’s left. His eyes, more weary than sleepy, fluttered open.
Tense furrows ran across the redhead’s brow, marring the peaceful mask of quiet sleep that had been there but moments before. She moaned again; her head tossed from side to side on the pillow.
“Shh,” he whispered softly, and tightened his hand around hers. “Sleep and rest. It’s all right now. Everything is all right.”
Sheryl Lee’s head jerked violently toward him. She whimpered like some small, frightened animal. Her eyes flew open, darting about a tiny room that contained only a chair and a small cot. Rick discerned the disoriented panic in her expression; it was as though she was uncertain where she was. Her fear-widened emerald eyes focused on his face.
“It’s all right. You’re back at Dallas headquarters.” His voice came as a comforting whisper. He leaned forward and lightly kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep and rest. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and need to sleep.”
A smile of recognition lifted her mouth. Her right hand rose, fingers brushing over his cheek. “You need a shave, Surfer Boy.”
He returned the smile and shrugged. “And you need to sleep.”
“Have you been sittin’ in that chair all night, lookin’ after me like some mother hen?”
“Day. It’s daytime, and it’s only been a few hours,” he answered, his eyes tracing over the delicate features of her face. In spite of the nasty purple bump on her head, she remained the beautiful fiery-haired angel who had greeted him aboard the Wanda Sue a lifetime or two ago. “You gave me a scare last night. I didn’t think I’d ever see this beautiful face again.”
“I told you once that line wouldn’t work with me.” Her smile widened while her fingers tightened about his hand. “I gave myself a pretty big scare last night. I remember the wreck and being thrown from it. That’s when I hit my head. ”
She lifted her left hand to her forehead and winced when her fingers tested the nasty lump. “There were shock troopers cornin’ after us. I ran—thought I was runnin’ from them. I didn’t know where I was until I slammed head-on into three snakes.”
Her eyes abruptly narrowed, and she stared directly into Rick’s eyes. “Whose stupid idea was it to come after me?”
Rick masked his face with the most innocent expression he could contrive. “We can talk about that later. You need to rest now.”
“It was your idea, wasn’t it?” she pressed.
“I might have had a small part in it,” he admitted. “I discovered that I’d grown used to having you around these last few days.”
“It was stupid. You know that, don’t you? Everything we’ve been workin’ for here could have been destroyed last night. All of you might have been killed,” she reprimanded him, but her hand remained about his.
“ ‘Mights’ don’t count. Besides, who said we came after you? The last processing center in this area was destroyed last night. That might have been our real purpose for being there. Ever think of that?”
“Might have been, but it wasn’t. You came there for me.” Her emerald gaze caressed his features. “Stupid, Surfer Boy. But I’m damned glad you’re on my side.”
“Me too. Now try and get some more sleep.” He leaned forward and kissed her brow again. “I’ll be right here.”
“I came within an inch of being killed in a car wreck last night, then the Visitors tried to make a frozen dinner out of me, and all I’m goin’ to get is a peck on the forehead?” She frowned up at him. “They sure grow ’em shy in California.”
“I . . . uh . .
Her left arm shot around his neck and eased his lips to hers. There was nothing shy or reserved in the passion of that kiss, nor in his own response. They clung together, arms wrapped about one another, hugging tightly, then in the next heartbeat their hands moved, stroking, soothing, speaking the desire of a man and woman.
He came to her gently, never questioning the swelling love that warmly opened within him, weaving out to melt and join with the love that radiated from the angel who gave herself to him. In a slow, rocking lullaby their bodies whispered all the tenderness the times and the circumstances had stolen from their voices.
When at last they lay quietly entwined on the small cot, he held her, and she cried, ridding herself, at least for the moment, of the demons of anguish and sorrow that she had locked within her breast for far too long. When the final shuddery sob passed from her body, he drew her even closer. Together they slept, protectively enclosed in each other’s arms.
“We hurt ’em bad last night.” Charlie sipped straight bourbon from a paper cup. “Gave ’em a thing or two to think about.”
Rick poured a second shot in Sheryl Lee’s own cup. She turned and smiled. Warmth suffused the Californian, and his heart quickened. The light of love that sparkled in those emerald eyes was meant just for him.
“Mind sharing that bottle?” Jace asked.
Rick passed the pilot the bourbon the four shared in memory of Brad and Mark and the others who had died in last night’s attack on the processing center. A half hour ago the four had gathered in Brad’s office to drink a toast in honor of their friends, a silent, personal wake of remembrance. But the weight of the world in which they struggled to survive had rapidly displaced the mourning, turning their thoughts and discussion to the Visitors.
“I’m not say in’ we didn’t hurt ’em.” Jace recapped the bourbon after pouring himself a second shot. “But it wasn’t enough to stop the snakes.”
“But you heard the message on the skyfighter’s radio this momin’.” Charlie pushed back his gimme cap and glanced at his fellow pilot. “That Yvonne was appointed by Diana to replace Garth, and she’s recalling the lizard troops in this area to the Houston Mother Ship.” “That will be for a few days, maybe a week at the most.” Jace tossed down his bourbon, then crumpled the paper cup in his hand. “They’ll try again, have no doubts about that. They’ll keep tryin’ again and again until they rob us of our world or we drive them back across the stars.”
“Jace is right.” This from Sheryl Lee. “The Visitors have lost their processing centers here, but they can— and will—build more. Until winter comes to give the red dust a chance to regenerate, Dallas and Fort Worth are open territory for the snakes. What we have to do is take advantage of the Visitors’ temporary withdrawal and evacuate as many people as we can to the north.” “Which won’t be enough.” Jace’s face twisted in disgust. “Soon as the lizards return, we’ll be back in the same situation we’ve been in. Unless ...” His voice trailed off and he glanced at the floor.
“Unless what?” Rick looked at the pilot.
“Jace and I were talkin’ this momin’ while we were monitorin’ the Visitors’ broadcasts,” Charlie spoke up. “We think that the run we made with the medical supplies shows that a pipeline for supplies and weapons can be established with the West Coast, and perhaps some of the northern states.”
“Charlie thought he could use my Piper Cub to get him back to his own plane,” Jace added. “From there he could fly on to Los Angeles. The Mustang is fast, and it’s armed.”
Charlie’s head turned to Rick. “You’re our only direct contact with L.A., Rick. Are you willin’ to make one more flight with me?”
“Sounds like a ticket home to me.” A wide grin spread across the young man’s face. “But what about Sheryl Lee? Is there enough room for three people in the cockpit of a P-51?”
Charlie’s gaze shifted to the redhead, and he chewed nervously at his lower lip.
Jace started to say, “Sheryl Lee isn’t part of our ...”
Sheryl Lee waved the man to silence. “I think Rick and I need to be alone for a minute. If you two wouldn’t mind excusing us.”
Rick’s heart lodged in his throat as he stared into the green eyes that lifted to his. Charlie and Jace quietly rose and walked from the off
ice, closing the door behind them.
“Jace was trying to say you weren’t part of the plan, wasn’t he?” he asked.
Sheryl Lee nodded, her eyes fixed to his.
“Well, you’re part of my plans, dammit!” Rick said firmly. “I lost you once last night, and I don’t intend to let that happen again for the rest of my life.”
“I know.” Sheryl Lee leaned toward him in her chair and took his hands. “It’s a nice dream, isn’t it, Surfer Boy? You and me livin’, lovin’, and growin’ old together. I’ve got the same dream, and it means as much to me as it does to you. But we both know that it’s only a dream—at least for right now.”
“Dream? Don’t tell me what we shared this morning was only a dream!” Rick’s head moved from side to side in denial of her words. “I‘ve never felt anything more real—neither have you.”
“It was real, and that’s what makes everything so damned hard. I love you, Surfer Boy. Love you more than is probably good for either you or me, because it’s something neither of us can afford. It’s a luxury we can’t allow ourselves. There’s a war goin’ on, in case you haven’t noticed. And you have to return to Los Angeles and—”
“You can come with me. We make a hell of a team, Sheryl Lee,” Rick said, forcing himself to speak through the sudden dryness that filled his mouth. “We can—” “Shh. ” Sheryl Lee pressed a finger to his lips. “I can’t leave here any more than I can ask you to stay. This is my home, Rick. Los Angeles is yours. That’s where you belong, where you can do your best in our fight against the Visitors. I can do my best here. I can’t abandon what my mother and I have fought for this whole time.” Rick struggled to find an error in her argument and couldn’t.
“One of these days the circumstances will be different. We’ll be free to choose what life we want to live. Then—and I know that then will come—there will be time for two people. But not now.”
“No time for two people, not with the whole damned world intruding.” Bitterness swept through Rick. She was right, but he didn’t have to like it.
“There is a little time—if we’re willing to grab it and savor it,” Sheryl Lee replied. “There’s no possible way
Charlie will risk flyin’ out durin’ the day. It’s only a few hours, and it’s only a small room with a cot barely big enough for one person, but it can be ours. We can have what remains of this day.”
Rick stood and reached down, drawing Sheryl Lee to him. His mouth covered hers. A few hours wasn’t the lifetime of his dreams, but for now it was all they had, and he intended to do as she suggested—grab it and savor it.
The Piper Cub raced down the night-darkened street. Charlie Scoggin eased the controls toward him, and the single-engine plane leaped into the air, shooting over the roofs of the warehouses. The small craft banked to the left, heading toward Fort Worth to the west.
“We’ll make my place in a couple of hours and with luck be in Los Angeles before daybreak,” the older man said.
Rick didn’t reply. Through tear-misted eyes, he stared downward, his neck craning to see the shadowy figure who stood below waving at the departing plane—a young redheaded woman who grew smaller with each passing second. His lips silently mouthed, “Good-bye, my angel. I’ll be back.”
And he would be too. Sheryl Lee had been right. One day there would be no Visitors to plague the world. How the reptilian invaders would be defeated and driven back to their own planet, he didn’t know, but they would be!
On that day there would be time for two people named Sheryl Lee Darcy and Rick Hurley.
V 11 - The Texas Run Page 17
