Part 10 (1/2)

DC-3.

The plane swooped low over Haiti's green hills, bridged the mountains midisland and pa.s.sed over the Dominican Republic, dipping so low that they could see workers in the cane fields and bathers on the beaches, everything gilded in gold by the afternoon sun. They flew over open ocean for a while, marveling at the different shades of blue. ”Na.s.sau,” they said, nearly in unison.

”G.o.d,” said Beatrice, ”remember how glad we were to get there?” What was the name of the s.h.i.+p?”

”The Homeric?”

”Did your father pay for the entire honeymoon? Or just the cruise?” Peter asked. ”I think we bought the sherry”

”That's right, we drank sherry in the stateroom,” Peter said. ”It had bunk beds.” ”Like being in jail, with a chance of drowning.” ”Samuel Johnson. And a bathroom in the hall. Like our apartment on 31st Street, with the bathtub in the kitchen? That door that went over it, to form a counter?” ”And that lady who used to bang on the ceiling with her broom?” Beatrice laughed. ”Right. Every time we made love. She looked like her picture belonged on the onedollar bill.” They laughed at their memories until the coast of Puerto Rico pa.s.sed below them, and then they grew quiet: the island of Vieques was coming up. For a long while they remained silent. Then, as though no time at all had pa.s.sed, they picked up where they had left off. ”Which was the apartment we got evicted from?” she asked. ”The one on Fourth Street. You were in your third year of med school.” ”No, wasn't I still preclinical?”

”I'm positive. Remember, we wore out the bed and the springs broke so we put the mattress on the floor.” ”That was so hideous.”

”The fleas from our terrier!” he shouted. ”Buntle. XVho used to lick the toilet seat.” ”I used to sleep in my socks and in the morning I'd have anklets of fleabites.” ”You kept saying the roaches were going to carry the mattress away,” she said, roaring with laughter. ”Those were huge roaches! It could've been like the Lilliputians carrying Gulliver.” He patted her hand. ”What's the matter?” she asked.

”Nothing.”

”No, tell me what just crossed your mind.” ”A conversation I once had. Talking about Swift reminded me.” ”With who?”

”You weren't there. With Freddy. About why it's no picnic to live forever-” He broke off. From straight ahead an F-14 drew up on them, a speck, then a blur, then an enormous shape strobing by their c.o.c.kpit windows at astonis.h.i.+ng speed and without the slightest sound. Then the sonic boom struck like Thor's hammer, bowing in their windscreen with a thousand spiders of fractured gla.s.s. It left them both clutching their ears. The DC-3 bucked hard in the violent surge of wind, and Peter felt the warm rush of blood from his nose even as he fought to bring the plane under control. ”Good G.o.d,” he said.

”Can we get them on the radio?”

”Yes, I'm trying.” The ancient device wasn't responding. ”The sonic shock-” ”Jarred the tubes, you think?”

”Possibly.” He slid open the side window and waved into the sky. ”I don't think they can see you,” said Beatrice. She peered out the window. ”Is that the airstrip at Vieques?” ”That's it. We're all right.” he said. ”Might get a little turbulent. There's some blood on your cheek.” She dabbed at it. ”I think my left ear may have checked out.” ”Yes. It's temporary, though. We're fine,” he said. Something exploded off their starboard side. ”Sidewinder missile,” said Peter. He surrendered to being a scientist and nothing else. ”Does Mach 4. Homed in on our exhaust. That was lucky. If we had been in a modern jet, it would have read us correctly, These old engines give off a lot less heat.” ”Makes sense,” Beatrice said, just as nonchalantly. ”But I do think something's happened to the plane.” It was yawing wildly. ”A piece of shrapnel must have gone through the fuselage. Maybe cut a control cable. Or maybe it dinged the vertical stabilizer. Are you all right?” She nodded tightly. ”You?”

”I'm fine. I can see the runway. They won't shoot again, not while we're this close to other people.” ”Okay;” she said. She did not sound convinced. ”Okay? Try and hang on. You know, I think I'm wrong. I think it was your second year of med school. All those mnemonics you made up for pathology cla.s.s because you cut cla.s.ses so many times that year. They applauded when you showed up for your final. You're right, that was definitely Fourth Street. We were happy there.” ”We were happy everywhere,” said Beatrice. ”We were,” said Peter. ”Even when we were doing the devil's work. Would you do it all over again?” ”The same life exactly?”

”Not just the good moments. The good, the bad, the mistakes, the misjudgments, the compromises, all the lies we told ourselves?” ”If we could make it right,” said Beatrice as a second Sidewinder exploded a hundred yards nearer than the first. ”Peter?” she said faintly. ”I'm here. I've got it,” he said, wrestling with the control column. Beatrice was clutching her ribs, There was a hole in the c.o.c.kpit wall next to her. and beyond, the starboard engine was burning fiercely. Not even thinking about it, Peter cut the fuel and feathered the prop before the plane swung around entirely. Then he grabbed his wife. ”Beatrice?”

Her head came up. She reached up and touched his face. Then her hand fell away. Blood was oozing from her side. ”Beatrice!”