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She thought the message looked okay otherwise. If she wasn t back before the
staff started looking for her they would come into her cabin and find it, and
then it would probably be read over the phone almost immediately to Kate
and/or Joe. That was all right; they would be able to guess something of what
was going on, and when the police were called in, Joe could . . . well, it was
too bad, but right now Judy had to leave.
She had money, a couple of hundred bucks, in her pockets, and credit cards.
What else did she need? It was hard to say, since she didn t really know where
she was going. But money in some form was all you really needed, as a rule.
Judy slipped into her windbreaker, turned out the lights, and went out into
the spring night. After a moment s internal debate she left her cabin door
unlocked; somehow that seemed to make her departure less serious, more
temporary.
The next step, of course, was to arrange a ride of some kind into town. Once
she got there . . . well, she would just have to see then where she was called
to go.
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Walking toward the cabin that served Bill Bird as combination studio and
living quarters, Judy saw with a mixture of guilt and relief that the lights
were on inside. Bill looked first pleased and then somewhat wary when he saw
who was tapping so discreetly at his door.
Judy. What can I do for you?
Something s come up, Bill. I absolutely need to get into town right away, and
I wonder if you could give me a lift.
A hesitation. Oh. Did you check at the office? There was a prescribed system
of signing out, and also one of pooling rides.
Can I come in a minute? And once inside the one-room cabin, much like her
own, Judy pulled shut the door behind her. A crude female nude, about half
life-size, stood under lights. The clay looked wet, and Bill was wiping his
hands on a rag. It seemed he must have been working from memory; anyway there
was no model in sight. I m
going to level with you, Bill. There are reasons why I didn t want to do
that.
Oh? Something private?
Yes. And the truth is I don t know when I ll be able to get back. I want
to meet someone, in town or near town.
Oh.
She wished he would stop saying oh.
No, it isn t anything like that. Just someone who desperately needs help.
And there s nothing illegal or wrong about it, but at the same time it s very
private.
Bill opened his mouth, but failed to utter the anticipated word. Now Judy
could almost see the wheels turning over in his head. Abortion appointment?
Drug rendezvous? Or a friend of Judy s on a bad trip with some drug, or in
some trouble with the law? Or simply running away from home? Bill asked:
Where are you supposed to meet this -
person?
It s not easy to explain. I m sorry. Look, can you just give me a ride into
town? If you don t want to, I ll understand and I ll figure out some other way
of getting there. I appreciate that there s some chance of your getting into
trouble here if you break the rules.
Is this really me, Judy wondered, willing to use someone in this way?
She thought that for the first time she could begin to understand how
alcoholics, addicts, could be as ruthless as they sometimes were. The
craving dominated.
Bill was looking at her carefully. It s all right, Judy. I ll give you a
ride.
Thanks, Bill. I mean it. I really do appreciate it, I can t tell you how
much.
Waiting for Bill to take care of a few things and grab his coat, getting ready
to go out, Judy leaned against the doorframe, groping mentally.
He
, the man she sought, had been very recently in a great desert basin which
contained a large city and a mass of warm air, almost hot air, fairly heavily
polluted air. Names of course never came through the contact, but Judy had no
trouble recognizing Phoenix. But Thorn, she perceived now, was there no
longer.
. . . he was coming closer, moving almost straight toward her from the
southwest. His feet were running, racing at a terrible pace . . . four feet
running, and all of them were his . . . this was a mode that she had never
experienced before.
What s wrong, Jude?
She opened her eyes and pushed away from the doorframe, making herself stand
up straight and smile.
Nothing . . . maybe a little headache.
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Bill looked doubtful. But he was holding the door open for Judy now, and she
went on out. Her own feet trod again the springy needle carpet of the forest
path. Two human feet, hers were, in shoes, not like . . . the landscape around
him had been momentarily clear to Judy. It had seemed to be bright moonlight
there, though from here her merely human eyes could see that tonight s moon
was only a dim crescent.
Those distant, running feet were coming closer quickly, loping almost directly
toward Santa Fe. It would be hours yet before Judy could meet them. How many
hours she could not guess.
They were in Bill s car now, a small Buick several years old, and he was
starting the engine. As he turned the key
Judy at the last moment knew irrational panic that a great bomb under the hood
was going to go off and turn them both to jelly. So strong was the sensation
that she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. Nothing happened, of
course, and now he was driving over the rutted gravel of the parking lot
toward the gate, which as usual this early in the evening was standing open.
He asked Judy casually: Where exactly are we going?
Her conscience would not lie down quietly. Bill, I don t want to get you into
any trouble for doing this. Maybe you d better not.
Oh, just driving you to town isn t all that bad. Bending the rules a little,
maybe, but . . . oh, hell, look, Judy.
You re already in real trouble of some kind. I d have to be blind not to see
that. I don t know if it really has to do with some friend, or if the friend
in trouble is you anyway I can see that you need help. So why don t you just
tell me where you have to go? And on the way, tell me what it s all about.
Oh, Bill. You re beautiful. Suddenly near tears, Judy reached to squeeze his
bicep, which felt surprisingly large and hard. Bill, the trouble is, I don t
know anything exactly yet. Just that I have to be there . . . maybe when I get
into town, things will be clearer.
How is that going to help?
It s difficult to explain. Or maybe impossible. Once when her brother Johnny
had been in the hands of kidnappers, Judy had been able to see, to locate
perfectly, the house where Johnny was being held. Of course that time she had
been hypnotized, by . . . maybe the trouble was that this time she wasn t
hypnotized.
No, I don t think I want to drop you just anywhere. They were driving the
camp road now at a brisk pace, traversing a midnight aisle of trees. Tell me,
Judy. Are you really intending to cut out from school altogether? Or do you
really mean to come back tonight?
I
hope to be able to get back tonight, Bill. I ve left a note in my cabin, just
in case . . . but oh God, I hope I can get back there before anybody reads
it.
Bill turned his eyes from the night road long enough to look at her. He
whistled softly. All right, this is very serious, I can see that. Is it all
right if I ask what the note says?
It says . . . it s just meant to be reassuring. I m trying to keep my parents
from finding out . . . Bill, don t mind me if I act a little crazy tonight. I
know I m acting like I m crazy but I m really not. Do you know anything about
the psychic?
Psychic . . . well, not really, I guess. But I like to think I have an open
mind.
NINETEEN
Helen was garbed in much poorer clothing than the elegant garments in which
she had departed our Pisan cottage.
She was shivering with cold, and her rags, like those of the traveling poor of
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