Abruptly he jammed on the brakes. "Listen!"

"What for? What's the matter?"

"Shut up! Listen!" Markel turned, staring back down the highway. In the distance he heard a faint growling. The Earth Mother opened her mouth; Markel shoved her back against the seat. "Listen! Did you hear that?"

They listened in the empty highway. Wind blew across the fields and high over them a hawk hung motionless. Again came the growling, louder, like a swarm of angry bees. It stopped. "You heard that, didn't you?" said Markel.

"I didn't hear nothing."

"You're deaf! Stupid deaf and dumb and blind! Damn it, didn't you hear anything?"

"I said I didn't, so I didn't."

Markel started the convertible. "Idiot. Low grade idiot."

"What're you so hacked about? What'd you hear, anyhow?"

For four or five minutes he drove without speaking. Then he said, "A motorcycle."

He had it reasoned out by supper time. There were lots of vehicles still around in good working order. And, although people were scarce, it was logical enough to assume that some scarce traveler was taking the same route they were. It was logical to assume that, because Markel had put three bullets into Rocky. He explained his logical theory to the Earth Mother. Concluding, he said, "And perhaps I really heard a car, not a motorcycle. Distance can be deceiving."

"Rocky was flipped on motorcycles. He had five or six around, always working on them. He used to ride all around just to pass the time."

"It wasn't Rocky I heard."

"He said he'd hunt us down."

Markel laughed.

She said, "It's Rocky, you know it is! It's him, there's no other motorcycle riders around here!"

 Prev. P 7/25 next