NIGHT CRUISING (34 page)

He promised to keep
her, maybe to insure safe passage if he were captured, but she knew
he was not operating the way a practical man would act. She couldn't
trust him to save her to save himself. He was so far over the edge
she could never reach him now.

When he turned off the
main highway onto another road, she sat up in the seat and looked
around, trying to memorize the route. Where in holy hell was he
taking her?

A sign read CITY OF
ROCKS STATE PARK.

Cruise turned left and
downshifted to cross a cattle guard. They bumped and rumbled across
the metal grid, the truck lurching drunkenly to the left, then to the
right. He slowed even further so that they were crawling across a
desert floor. The truck motor growled low and the smell of diesel
came into the window. About a mile away Molly could see flat-topped
blocks of rock. City of Rocks? A state park? But there was no guard
gate or guard, no camping facilities, no concession booths or
souvenir stands. Just the desert, the standing rocks, prickly pear
and barrel cacti, the twisted, thorn- infested mesquite trees.

Hideout.

Of course. He had been
looking for a place to hide and lucked onto the City of Rocks. Or had
he known about it before and came directly here? She didn't know. She
was afraid to ask.

"Fifty miles more
and you could have seen the Kneeling Nun."

His statement clarified
the mystery for Molly. He knew this place. "Kneeling Nun?"
Her voice sounded small, apologetic.

"There's a huge
mesa that split into two. One piece was weathered or something and it
looks like a gigantic nun kneeling. She's so big she throws a shadow
over the town. But this is more private," he added. "Much
better for us."

"Oh."

"See those
mountains back there?" He pointed behind the rock formations
standing isolated on the desert.

"Yes."

'Mount, Holt's there.
And Old Baldy. You can't see much at night, but during daylight you
can tell there's snow up near the summits. The continental Divide's
not too far north of us."

As they approached the
City of Rocks, Molly could see that at one time the entire cluster of
one-story rocks had probably been all of one piece. A vast slab of
mesa sitting out here in the desert by itself. Over generations of
time heat and cold contracting within the rock had caused it to
splinter down straight north-south, east-west fault lines so that now
the blocks stood apart. As Cruise stopped the truck and sat staring
into the crevices between the rocks, Molly could see that some of the
lanes were wide enough to allow entrance of a vehicle and some were
too narrow. Altogether the geological formation made a sort of city,
a city of rocks, the rocks like houses built along cramped streets. A
rock maze. A dead place.

She shivered
uncontrollably and locked her hands around one another. She didn't
want to be here. It was the worst place he could have taken her. It
was barren and lonely and there was no one here to help her. The
police would never...

"We..." She
had to find some spit in her mouth so she could talk. "We...could
we...this is...uh..."

"What's the
matter, don't you like it?"

"But it's so..."

"Empty?"

She nodded and licked
the split in her lower lip.

"Yeah," he
said. "It's empty and pretty much stays that way. Not many
tourists ever find their way here. That's why I like it so much. With
food and water, we could stay some time before anyone ever showed up.
As it is, we should be able to stay until the heat gives up. The cops
will think we just disappeared into thin air."

Oh, no
, Molly
thought,
not here, not out here at the end of the world. I don't
want to disappear with Cruise, not in this terrible place.

#

Cruise pulled the truck
into one of the wider streets leading into the City of Rocks. He
parked it. and turned off the motor. He climbed from the cab. Stood
looking overhead past the tops of the rocks on either side. There
were a million trillion stars, more stars than he had ever seen from
any vantage point except maybe up in the Colorado Rockies. The stars
twinkled and blinked and shone down steady, silver and gold and icy
blue and crystal pink.

He took in a
desert-cool breath, feeling easier. He heard the cab door open on the
other side of the truck and knew the girl was looking around. If
she'd look up, let her gaze travel heavenward, she too would feel
better about his chosen hideout.

He heard a rustle along
the ground and turned his attention there. He saw a gila monster
scurry away, pushing aside small stones and pebbles in its way.
Sometimes on his visits to the City of Rocks he heard coyotes wailing
out on the plains.

They'd never find him
here. When he left it could be weeks before anyone found the body of
his witness.

#

Fifty miles seemed to
spin out to five hundred. He should have driven it in an hour or
less, and according to his watch he had, but the hour seemed to be
ten while he drove and cursed and called Molly's name in a whisper.

He almost passed
Highway 6l and had to slam the brakes, skid to a complete stop
halfway past the turnoff. He passed a sign that read CITY OF ROCKS
STATE PARK. He continued to a small town. Sherman. Were they here? He
needed to check with someone. He tried the CB, but the streets were
devoid of traffic this time of night. And there were no trucks along
this route.

He realized that
Sherman was just a spot in the road. There were no lights on or
places of business that were open this time of early morning. As he
crept along at less than twenty miles an hour, he saw the glow of a
cigarette in front of a dark closed service station. He whipped the
steering wheel to his right and pulled up to a stop. He hopped from
the car, left it running. He must have scared the older man as he
came toward him. He saw him drop the straight-backed chair he'd been
leaning against the wall to the ground with a hollow thump. He saw a
six-pack of beer at the side of the chair. The man had one open in
his hand and a cigarette in the other.

Mark had to hurry.

"Listen, I hate to
bother you, but have you been here the last hour or two?"

"Sure, mister.
What's the trouble?"

"I'm with the
state police," he lied smoothly. "We're searching for a
truck. It isn't pulling a trailer. It's dark blue, has a snub nose, a
cab-over truck. Have you seen it?"

The man shook his head
and his long hair moved like a sheaf of white wheat. "Ain't
nothing come by here since about midnight. I close up at eleven. I
sometimes sit out here with a beer afterward. I like the peace and
quiet, and those stars up there." He pointed overhead with his
beer and Mark caught himself looking up too. The sight at this
elevation was spectacular. He had never seen so many stars in
Florida.

"I don't get too
many customers through here this time of night," the man
continued. He laughed as if that was supposed to be a joke on the
town.

"You didn't see a
truck? Any kind of semi-truck?"

"No, sir. I would
have noticed. I've been sitting right here in front of the place all
night. Last sale I had was a pack of Salem Lights to Jerry Salinas,
and that was around closing time. He stops by after work at the
hospital and gets either cigarettes or a brewski."

Mark thought it over.
"No truck? You're sure?" He couldn't figure that out. The
station was right on 6l. There were no other highways crossing 6l
they might have taken.

The sign he'd passed
flashed through his mind. CITY OF ROCKS STATE PARK.

"That state park
back on 6l," he said. "What is that anyway?"

"What is it? Well,
it's just a big bunch of squared-off rocks. You can walk down through
them and all. It ain't much."

"Could you drive
into them? Park a semi-cab in there?"

The man gave it some
thought. He twirled the beer in his hand. "Oh, there's one or
two streets in it, well....they ain't streets really, just lanes
where the rocks have split, but there's a couple you could drive a
big cab into, sure."

"Thanks."
Mark turned on his heel and was back inside his running car before
the man could ask any questions.

He turned the car
around and headed back out of town.

That's the only place
Molly could be. Parked in the City of Rocks. She had to be there,
hidden from view. He just knew it.

#

Once they were off the
road, time fell back into a familiar pattern. In fact, it might have
slowed now. The stars wheeled overhead in dazzling array. A caressing
wind blew down the canyons between the rocks.

Cruise made Molly walk
with him through the maze while he worked out his tension and
stretched his legs. When they came to the outer edge of one of the
streets, he would pause and look out at the plain. There were desert
spoon plants, small yucca-type plants that Indians sometimes used for
spoons. There were straggly mesquite trees blowing in the starlight,
long pods of dry beans rattling like strings of tiny clicking bones.

"You think this is
desolate?" he asked Molly.

She didn't answer. She
was a most uncooperative witness, a sad little companion.

"This is
paradise," he said. "There's the wind and the stars, the
rocks that have been here longer than man has wandered these plains.
I love it here."

Prodding her, he turned
back to take another stroll down another canyon street.

He had time.

All the time he needed.

#

Mark turned off his
headlights before he turned onto the cattle guard crossing that led
to the City of Rocks. He could see the formation not far away. He
didn't want to alert the killer, if he was here. He pulled over onto
the desert sand and shut off the ignition. He'd walk. If he was wrong
about this, he'd kick himself all the way back to the car. He prayed
he was right.

He was trying to think
of a weapon to use to get Molly back. He wished he had a gun. He
should have asked the fucker who put in the CB at Guthrie's Truck
Stop.

All he had was the tire
iron in the trunk and the strength of his resolve. It would have to
do. He was a
Marine
, god damn it. You had to be really good to
beat a Marine.

#

Cruise was leading
Molly down a street hardly wide enough for his shoulders. As they
approached one of the intersections he heard footsteps. He stopped
abruptly.

He pulled Molly to him
and clamped his hand around her mouth. She struggled in his arms
until he tightened his grip. "Sshh," he whispered close by
her ear. "Someone's here."

The footsteps neared,
halted, neared again. They paused every few feet as if the person was
listening.

Cruise suddenly thought
about Boots, his old infantry buddy in 'Nam, how he crept through the
jungle so lightly so as not to alert the Cong.

Boots.
Boots.

No, it couldn't be.
Boots had not visited him in twenty years. Boots died in 'Nam,
everything leaking from the stumps of his legs. He was buried shallow
under leaves and forest debris by Cruise's own hands.

Some of the stories
Cruise told Molly were lies. Tall tales to fill the time driving over
so many miles. Sometimes Cruise had told his stories to the witnesses
so many times that he came to believe they were true. Sometimes, and
he just now realized this truth, he couldn't distinguish between his
lies and the real past. But the story of Boots was true. It was Boots
who had persistently showed himself even though he had been dead,
Boots who rallied him when he faltered in the jungle, who woke him
when he slept, who lured him ever onward to the 'copter pickup point.
Boots who saved his ragged ass.

Molly struggled anew.
He held her fast, furious that she would give him trouble now when he
least needed it. One more time, one more move, and he'd break her
goddamned neck right where she stood.

The footsteps neared.

The wind gave a low
eerie whistle as it eddied down the narrow rock walls.

Cruise kept still and
waited for someone or something that was coming for him out of the
night.

#

Mark found the truck.
The front grille was still hot to the touch so it had not been here
long.

Where was Molly?
Where had the son of a bitch taken her?

The City of Rocks was
an endless maze of lanes leading he knew not where. He might follow
them for hours without getting close.

His training kicked in
and he began to creep down the canyons like a sniper on
reconnaissance. He would move forward a few cautious steps, stop,
listen so hard his ears started ringing, move forward again. Stop.
Listen.

They were here
somewhere.

His baby was here.
Somewhere.

#

Cruise thought it the
worst possible time for the worms to start wriggling beneath the skin
of his arms.

He jerked Molly to the
side and back again. She made a sound muffled behind his hand and he
tapped her on the head with the heel of the knife. She shut up.

He jerked her back
again, trying to relieve the pressure building along the veins and
muscles of his forearms. He had meant to show her the cuts and ask
her opinion of what he might do. He hadn't had the chance. Time had
come unraveled, then the peaceful stars shining down on the City of
Rocks had made him forget for a while.

But the closer the
footsteps came, the more he wanted to throw the girl to the ground,
and rip off his shirt, tear apart the bandages. Something had to be
done and soon. He could cut off his arms they felt so inflamed. There
were rolling sparks falling down his shoulders to his hands, leaving
behind them burning tracks that made his muscles spasm.

He nearly cried out in
agony.