Part 21 (2/2)

Randy said, ”Why did you do it, Peyton?”

”I don't know. I was lonely and there wasn't anything else to do and I'd never been up there. You know how it is. When you've never been some place, you want to go.”

Randy opened one of the alb.u.ms. ”Old seventy-Bights,” he said, his voice almost reverent. ”Cla.s.sic jazz. Listen to this. By Tommy Dorsey--'Come Rain or s.h.i.+ne,' 'Stardust,' 'Chicago,' Carmen Cavallaro's 'Stormy Weather.' Also 'Body and Soul.' Artie Shaw's 'Back Bay Shuffle.' All the best by the best. I guess I'm certain this must have been Father's collection. I've never seen this machine before, but I remember the records.”

”In the Mood” ended. Randy said, ”Turn it over, Peyton. No. Put on this one.”

”You're not angry, Randy?” Peyton said. ”Angry! I should say not!”

”I found some other stuff in there too.” ”Like what?”

”Well, there's an old-time sewing machine-the kind you work with your feet. There are some big kerosene lamps, the kind that hang. This one on the desk I found up there, too. All I had when I went up was a little stub candle. Then there's an old potbellied stove and a lot of iron pipe. Oh, and lots of other junk. I left it because I wanted to try the record player. The only other thing I brought down I brought for you and Dan, Randy. It's there on the bed.”

Randy picked up the black leather case. It looked familiar. He had seen it before. He opened it and saw the two matched straight-edge razors that had belonged to his father.

He leaned over and kissed the top of Peyton's head. ”Don't worry about what your mother will say,” he told her. ”I'll handle everything for you. If I had medals to give, I would pin one on you, Peyton, right now.”

In this manner, Peyton became a heroine.

Chapter 13.

One morning in November, when Randy was breakfasting early and alone, Dan Gunn came downstairs smooth-shaven, his jaw looking oddly pallid in contrast to brown forehead, nose, cheekbones, and neck. ”Good morning,” Randy said. ”You swore you'd never shave again! Why?”

”Well,” Dan said lamely, ”I had the razor and it seemed a shame not to use it after Peyton gave it to me. Then there was the soap.” Within the past few weeks, bars of homemade soap had appeared in Marines Park, produced by Mrs. Estes, who had been senior teller at the bank, and two former co-workers. Everyone agreed that it would be a prosperous and rewarding business. ”The truth, Dan!” Randy said.

”Helen asked me to do it. She said she was getting tired of tr.i.m.m.i.n.g it.”

”Oh, that's different. You'd better be home in time for dinner tonight. John Garcia just made another run up to Blue Crab Pool and he's dropping off a washtub of crabs here. In exchange for one quart of lightning.”

Dan said, ”I'm very fond of Helen. I don't know what I'd do without her.”

”Why do anything without her?” ”Randy, I want to marry her.”

Randy rose from the table, bowed, and said, ”I give you my blessing!”

”It isn't funny.”

”Marriage is rarely funny.” ”She won't marry me.” ”Then why did you shave off your beard?”

”d.a.m.n it, Randy, I love her. And she loves me. She admitted it. She wants to marry me. But she won't. She thinks there's a chance Mark's still alive. She's afraid that if we married then Mark would turn up alive and there'd be one of those awful messes we've all heard about or read about. Like when men were reported dead in the Philippines or Korea and they turned up after the war in an enemy prison camp. They came home and found their wives happily married to someone else. Sometimes there were children. It's always a mess.”

”It's happened,” Randy said, ”but in this case I don't think there's a chance. Want me to talk to her?”

Dan rubbed his face where his beard had been. ”I feel naked. No, Randy, thanks. I don't think Helen would want it discussed. Not yet, anyway. She just has this feeling, and I'm afraid she'll have to empty it herself.”

It was in this month that the first low-flying plane frightened and exhilarated them.

At irregular times planes had been reported before, but always jets, flying very high, usually no more than a silver splinter in the sky, or contrail, in day, and only sound at night.

But in the second week in November a big four-engined transport roared over Fort Repose at a thousand feet. It bore Air Force markings. In Marines Park everyone screamed and waved. It did not even waggle its wings, but went on, south. Dan Gunn, who was in town, saw it directly overhead. Randy heard and saw it from River Road. The Admiral, who was out on the river in his flags.h.i.+p, was able to observe it through binoculars.

That night Randy and Lib and Dan and Helen went to Sam Hazzard's house to hear his opinion. ”I noticed two cylinders slung under the wing,” he said. ”Not extra gas tanks. I think they might be air traps. I think they might be taking radiation samples.”

A week later the same plane, or one like it, came over again. This time it circled Fort Repose, and a stream of what appeared to be confetti, at the distance, fell from its belly and drifted down on the river banks and in the town.

Randy was in Marines Park, at the time, discussing an alarm system with officers of his company. Church bells had been used in England during the second World War, and there were bells in the Catholic and Episcopal churches. It was possible to evolve a code by which his troopers could understand the type and location of the emergency. The plane came over and everyone yelled, as before, as if they could hear up there. Then the leaflets fluttered down. They read: DO NOT BE ALARMED This leaflet comes from a United States Air Force plane conducting atmospheric surveys of the Contaminated Zones.

At a future date a more precise survey will be undertaken by helicopters.

Should a helicopter land in or near your community do not interfere with the activities of personnel aboard. Lend them your cooperation if requested.

This activity is an essential preliminary to bringing relief to the Contaminated Zones.

In a sense, it was disappointing. But it was something. It was something you could put your hands on, that you could feel, that had come from the outside. It was proof that the government of the United States still functioned. It was also useful as toilet paper. Next day, ten leaflets would buy an egg, and fifty a chicken. It was paper, and it was money.

In December the helicopter came. It made a fearful racket, wind milling over Fort Repose. At various open s.p.a.ces, including Marines Park, it hovered low and dropped a long wire from its belly, a small cylinder on the end of the wire actually touching the earth. It was like a gigantic bug dipping for honey.

It came up the Timucuan and circled the Bragg house.

The children were down at the dock; Helen and Lib were in the house; Randy was visiting with Sam Hazzard.

It circled four times. The two women ran up to the captain's walk. They had the best view. They waved their arms and then Helen took off her pink ap.r.o.n and waved that.

Inside the helicopter they saw faces and the pilot opened a window and waved back. Then it went away, up the Timucuan. In five minutes Randy, the Admiral, and the children, all out of breath, were at the house.

Helen was weeping. ”He waved!” she said. ”He waved at us! n.o.body else, us! I'm sure he came just to see us!”

”Now let's not get too excited,” Randy said. ”It may be that he was just looking for people-not anyone in particular-and saw the kids out on the dock and then circled the house to encourage us and give us heart.”

Helen wiped her face with her ap.r.o.n. She said, ”Oh, I wish he'd come back. Please, G.o.d, send him back!”

At that moment, they heard it coming back.

The children ran up to the roof. Randy went outside and sat on the porch steps. He was still out of breath and he wasn't going to run upstairs. If the d.a.m.n helicopter wanted to see him it would have to come here. He couldn't go to it. Sam Hazzard sat down beside him.

Randy watched for it. From the sound he knew it was circling again. It came low over the trees and hovered over the lawn. Everything else was overgrown and choked with weeds and sprouting saplings but this single stretch between house and road Randy kept in lawn. It was one of Ben Franklin's ch.o.r.es to mow once a week, and it was a link between the house and the time before The Day, like shaving.

It hovered there and slowly lowered. Randy said, ”It's coming in!” He rose to receive it.

Its wheels touched the ground, its engines cut off, and its rotors drooped and slowed. Peyton ran down the steps and Randy grabbed her. ”Don't go out there until the rotors stop!” he ordered. ”Cut your head off!”

Now that it was down, the helicopter looked ungainly and enormous. There were five men in it.

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