bet your bottom dollar I hope so, too.
***
Chapter 3
In the obscure little cabin huddled in the woods near the town of Pomeroy Station, Earle Holgren was slowly and methodically putting on his jogging shorts and shoes as the sun slanted swiftly lower through the trees and the long southern twilight began. He had just made love to Janet, who lay sprawled on the bed.
“You look like a damned sack of potatoes,” he said in a contemptuous voice.
“I didn’t notice you minding much in the last few minutes,” she replied with an unimpressed yawn. “Or maybe you were so hot it wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“Don’t be so damned smart,” he said, suddenly threatening, swinging around and coming toward her with a menacing air.
“Okay, okay,” she said, waving him off with an unhurried hand. “No need to get nasty about it. You must really be full of p. and v., to be going jogging after that.” She chuckled suddenly. “I know you aren’t full of anything else at the moment.”
“You’re so damned funny,” he said. “Someday you’ll die laughing.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe. We’ll see. Where are you going now, back to your precious atomic plant?”
“It isn’t my plant,” he said, “and it isn’t precious. It’s a damned vicious crime against all of humanity. It’s a desecration of the earth and the sky and all the creatures therein. It’s an abomination against mankind.”
“You really sound like a hill preacher,” she said with mock admiration. “I guess it’s living around here for the past few months. When are we going to leave this dump and get back to someplace that’s fun?”
“Soon enough,” he said grimly. “Soon enough.”
“Going to take me and John Lennon Peacechild with you?” she inquired, sitting up lazily and pulling on her robe; but he could tell she was really asking and really paying attention to his answer.
“Of course I am,” he said scornfully. “What makes you think I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know,” she said, yawning again. “Sometimes I just wonder.”
“Well, don’t wonder!” he ordered sharply. “People get hurt wondering.”
She looked suddenly alert. The dullness miraculously dropped away.
“That’s the second time today you’ve told me about people getting hurt. What are you planning? Going to hurt somebody? Going to hurt us?”
“No, I am not going to hurt somebody!” he said furiously. “And I’m not going to hurt you! Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“Have fun at the old atomic plant,” she said, yawning yet again and apparently turning dull and uncaring as abruptly as she had roused. “They must think you’re part of the scenery, by this time.”
“They won’t be there,” he said sharply. “It’s past quitting time. You don’t catch those capitalistic two-TV bastards working any more than they have to. The day crew won’t be there.”
“Well,” she said, looking around vaguely for John Lennon Peacechild, who was peacefully snoring in his crib in the corner, “don’t get hurt prowling around. I imagine they’ve got guards.”
“Yes, they’ve got guards. They’re friends of mine.”
“Oh, you know them,” she said, and once again he had the impression that she was paying attention much more closely than she would have him know.
“Yes, I know them. Now get your ass up off that bed and start getting supper. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, standing up and starting toward the crib. “Yes, sir. When are they ever going to finish that old plant, anyway? 1995? It seems like we’ve been here forever.”
“Next Friday,” he said with a grim satisfaction. “At three p.m. in the afternoon.”
“My,” she said admiringly as she scooped up John Lennon Peacechild and began crooning to him as he grunted and reached for her breast “You do know everything about that old plant, don’t you?”
“I don’t know a damned thing,” he said angrily as he
***
Chapter 3
In the obscure little cabin huddled in the woods near the town of Pomeroy Station, Earle Holgren was slowly and methodically putting on his jogging shorts and shoes as the sun slanted swiftly lower through the trees and the long southern twilight began. He had just made love to Janet, who lay sprawled on the bed.
“You look like a damned sack of potatoes,” he said in a contemptuous voice.
“I didn’t notice you minding much in the last few minutes,” she replied with an unimpressed yawn. “Or maybe you were so hot it wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“Don’t be so damned smart,” he said, suddenly threatening, swinging around and coming toward her with a menacing air.
“Okay, okay,” she said, waving him off with an unhurried hand. “No need to get nasty about it. You must really be full of p. and v., to be going jogging after that.” She chuckled suddenly. “I know you aren’t full of anything else at the moment.”
“You’re so damned funny,” he said. “Someday you’ll die laughing.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe. We’ll see. Where are you going now, back to your precious atomic plant?”
“It isn’t my plant,” he said, “and it isn’t precious. It’s a damned vicious crime against all of humanity. It’s a desecration of the earth and the sky and all the creatures therein. It’s an abomination against mankind.”
“You really sound like a hill preacher,” she said with mock admiration. “I guess it’s living around here for the past few months. When are we going to leave this dump and get back to someplace that’s fun?”
“Soon enough,” he said grimly. “Soon enough.”
“Going to take me and John Lennon Peacechild with you?” she inquired, sitting up lazily and pulling on her robe; but he could tell she was really asking and really paying attention to his answer.
“Of course I am,” he said scornfully. “What makes you think I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know,” she said, yawning again. “Sometimes I just wonder.”
“Well, don’t wonder!” he ordered sharply. “People get hurt wondering.”
She looked suddenly alert. The dullness miraculously dropped away.
“That’s the second time today you’ve told me about people getting hurt. What are you planning? Going to hurt somebody? Going to hurt us?”
“No, I am not going to hurt somebody!” he said furiously. “And I’m not going to hurt you! Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“Have fun at the old atomic plant,” she said, yawning yet again and apparently turning dull and uncaring as abruptly as she had roused. “They must think you’re part of the scenery, by this time.”
“They won’t be there,” he said sharply. “It’s past quitting time. You don’t catch those capitalistic two-TV bastards working any more than they have to. The day crew won’t be there.”
“Well,” she said, looking around vaguely for John Lennon Peacechild, who was peacefully snoring in his crib in the corner, “don’t get hurt prowling around. I imagine they’ve got guards.”
“Yes, they’ve got guards. They’re friends of mine.”
“Oh, you know them,” she said, and once again he had the impression that she was paying attention much more closely than she would have him know.
“Yes, I know them. Now get your ass up off that bed and start getting supper. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, standing up and starting toward the crib. “Yes, sir. When are they ever going to finish that old plant, anyway? 1995? It seems like we’ve been here forever.”
“Next Friday,” he said with a grim satisfaction. “At three p.m. in the afternoon.”
“My,” she said admiringly as she scooped up John Lennon Peacechild and began crooning to him as he grunted and reached for her breast “You do know everything about that old plant, don’t you?”
“I don’t know a damned thing,” he said angrily as he
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