drifted across the road, past a big barn and a farmhouse, past cornfields and yellow wheat and into wet woods. The Earth Mother leaned closer to him. "Just think, there's nobody here but us."

Autumn chill seeped into the car, but the girl was warm. Markel said, "Yes, only us alive in the vast desolation of the Earth." He looked across her shoulder at the gray, slanting sky and the low black clouds like blurred ink-blots. "But there will be more of us, strong intelligent children, inheritors of the earth, guardians of Phoenix."

"You keep saying that but you never do anything about it."

"The children of Phoenix," said Markel dreamily.

Moving closer, the Earth Mother put fat arms around his neck and breathed like a bellows in his ear. Beyond the wet woods lightning spider-webbed the blotted sky. She kissed him, a fat-lipped kiss, and the rain drummed small on the roof. Markel felt strong and all-powerful. The rain fell harder and the wind blew the sad, wet smell of autumn into the car. She kissed him again, and Markel forgot the ruined world and Phoenix, everything but the drowsy warmth of the car and the fat softness of the Earth Mother. There was no sound but the rain.

The rain fell harder, clanging on the hood, splatting on the windows. It pounded like forgotten battle-drums on the roof, growing louder, blurring into staccato. The staccato slurred into a steady hum. The hum lifted like the far-off buzzing of bees. Or like the growling of a motorcycle.

"Motorcycle!" yelled Markel. The Earth Mother screamed and fell back on the seat, dragging him with her. He pulled loose, sat up, and rolled down the window. Rain needled his face. Under the rain sounds he heard it, distant but unmistakable, the growling of a motorcycle.

He twisted the ignition key. "Motorcycle," he said. He kicked the gas pedal. The convertible jerked forward, sending the Earth Mother rolling to the floor. "Motorcycle." He kicked the car forward again and onto the road where it ground into second gear. "Get up! Don't just lie there, you fat pig! It's a motorcycle!" Another lurch banged the girl's head on the dashboard. She got one arm on the seat, screaming, "I can't hear nothing! You deefed me! I'm deef."

"Shut up! It's a motorcycle!"

"You busted my eardrums! I'm deef!"

The car lurched spasmodically, then stalled. He punched the starter and booted 

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