Blink of an Eye (30 page)

She paused. “That's better but it doesn't rhyme. And as you see, my lips are still not on yours. I don't feel the slightest impulse to walk over there and kiss you. You can do better. Don't toy with me.”

Perhaps a very small part of her did want to kiss him.
Stop it! Stop
it, Miriam!

He cleared his throat, thinking. He jumped to his feet on top of the rock. He ripped open his shirt, pulled it off his shoulders, and put one hand behind his head and the other on his waist, cocking his hips in a pose, so that his stomach muscles rippled. “Hey, baby, you like what you see?” he said, winking.

She stared at him, astounded at his gall. A giggle rose from her belly. He grinned and relaxed his pose. “No?”

She swallowed her laughter but could do nothing about the grin on her face. “I still haven't run into your arms.”

He jumped down from the rock. “That's because I can't
make
you do anything. And I never would, even if the thought of kissing you did cross my mind in a mad moment of brutal honesty
,
as you put it. And for the record, the future in which I saw you kissing me involved a kiss on the forehead. Just so you know.”

In another life, I'm not sure I wouldn't have kissed you, Seth Border
. She walked up to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him on the forehead.

“There you go. Now I've fulfilled your prophecy,” she said, satisfied by his blush. She picked up the bag of chips and walked away.

“Would you like to test the truth in
your
heart?” Seth said behind her.

She turned. “I thought we just did.”

“I was thinking about you being a Muslim. God and all that,” he said. “We don't see eye-to-eye on the issue, and it's occurred to me that I may have a way to test which one of us is right. A tangible test, no arguments.”

“Isn't it okay that we disagree?”

“Actually, there is a problem. According to your faith, I'm an infidel. Your godsend—that would be me—is headed for eternal torment. How can you be okay with that? We need to . . . reconcile, so to speak. Get on the same page.”

Miriam tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Fine, reconcile us.”

“Okay. Christian Nazis killed the Jews. The Crusaders killed Muslims. Islamic extremists killed Christians in the World Trade Center. Right? All guilty of breaking the greatest commandment.”

“Very few Arabs are extremists who kill—”

“And Hitler was as much a true Christian as I am a toad. Point is, they all broke the Prophet of love's cardinal rule.”

“Love your neighbor as yourself,” Miriam said.

“Correct.”

“And what does this have to do with the existence of God?”

“It has more to do with proving that I am not an infidel. Since you Muslims revere Jesus, and we agree he is the greatest prophet, let me offer a prayer to the God of Jesus and prove he doesn't exist.”

“You can't test God.”

“Maybe I can.”

Seth bounded over to a group of small boulders and scooped up an armful of medium-sized rocks. He ran to a bare patch of ground and set them in a circle. Miriam watched him curiously, afraid to ask.

He returned to the pile and grabbed up more stones. “Ever hear of Elijah and Mount Carmel?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“God descended in fire.”

He seemed enthusiastic about his idea, but Miriam was still unclear about his intentions. “You want God to descend in fire?” she said. “This won't prove a thing.”

“No, not fire. But if I ask God to do something—anything in the immediate future—I will be able to see if even the
possibilities
of the immediate future change.”

“And if he doesn't want to do it, you will say he doesn't exist?” It was unorthodox to be sure, perhaps foolish even, but she didn't see the harm. This was her eccentric Seth at work. At least there were no mutawa around to see his mockery.

“Don't you get it?” he said. “Even his refusal will affect what I see. It's like having a giant stethoscope up to the heavens. If there's a God, and if that God responds in any way, I'll know it! For all we know, this is the first time in history such a thing has even been possible.”

“But I won't know that anything has changed,” she said.

“True. You'll have to take my word for it.” He looked at the altar. “It's been a while since I said a prayer. Maybe you should do the honors.”

“I'll have no part in this.”

“Fair enough.”

He fidgeted with his hands for a moment, considering how to proceed. Then he lifted his face and arms to the sky. His lips moved in silent prayer.

Miriam shook her head, embarrassed for him. Her Greek god, who was at this moment standing ten meters off with his arms lifted like an idiot, was determined to prove something she didn't care about in the first place. Her confidence was a matter of faith, not proof. Whatever he did or didn't see wouldn't change that.

Seth lowered his hands and turned around, eyes still closed. After a moment they flickered open and he smiled.

“Well?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He stepped toward her. “Absolutely nothing,
nada,
zip.

I rest my case. We'll have to depend on good old—”

Seth froze midstride, eyes wide.

“What?”

His mouth parted. For a fleeting moment she thought he was having a heart attack or seizure.

“Seth!”

He blanched.

“What is it?”

Seth composed himself. “Nothing. Let's roll.” He walked past her.

She hurried for her door, evidently on the passenger's side, considering he had his hand on the driver's door already.

“Don't say
nothing
. I know you saw something. What did you see?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I saw that we have to roll.”

chapter 26

t
hey approached the Nevada border on Highway 178 and stopped five miles from the crossing. Seth remained quiet about the altar episode. He said he was still trying to figure it out but refused to explain what
it
was.

But she knew. The future had changed; the fact that they were making a run for the state line was evidence enough. He had tossed a prayer into the sky and the future had changed, and Seth was not at all at ease with the fact.

Slowly Seth came to himself. He stared at the blacktop ahead, hands on the wheel. A mischievous grin grew on his face.

“Okay, the way I see it, we have three ways to do this.” He looked at her. “One way would be violent and bloody, one would be crafty and brilliant, and one would be bold and silly. Which is your pleasure?”

She thought through the choices. Violence was unacceptable to both of them. What could he mean by silly? Either way they would succeed, wouldn't they? Although he had made some errors lately.

“Bold and silly,” she said.

“You sure?”

“Maybe not.”

“No, I think it's a daring choice,” he said. “Let's do it.”

“Okay.”

Seth slapped the steering wheel. “Excellent!”

He climbed out, ran to the front of the car, yanked off the Cadillac hood ornament, and hurled it into the desert. Miriam got out, amused.

“What is this?”

“This is our disguise, princess.” He ran to the trunk, popped it up, and returned with a large knife. Without warning he bent and slashed the right front tire. With a terrible hiss, the air bled out. The sound struck her as maniacal.

“I cannot imagine this is a clever idea,” she said.

He ran to the rear wheel and slashed it as well. “You chose bold and silly, remember?”

“Yes, but I didn't choose stupid.”

Seth laughed and jumped around to the other side, where he repeated the slashing. All four tires were as flat as millet cakes.

“Let's roll,” he said.

“You can drive on these tires?”

“For a few miles. That's the point.”

They started down the road, and within a hundred meters the thumping began. Within another hundred the racket was so loud that Miriam was sure the wheels would fall off.

“This is ridiculous!”

“Ha! You think
this
is ridiculous?”

Now she began to worry in earnest. He had never failed them, but this madness was a new thing. Perhaps he had actually
lost
his gift as the result of the prayer.

A loud bang sounded from the engine and Miriam flinched. Steam began to seep from the hood. Now what? The engine was going to blow up!

“Seth! Shouldn't you stop?”

“No!” He was delighted. “This is it!”

“What on earth are we doing?”

“Mess up your hair and put some of that white sunblock on your face. Could you do that for me?”

“Not until you tell me what we are doing!”

“We're putting on a disguise. Just enough so that he won't recognize you for a few seconds. That's all we need. I thought white sun-block would be better than grease.”

“Who is
he
?”

The smile left his face. “I'm sorry, but we're starting to run out of time. We're committed, and honestly, if I tell you too much, this won't work. I swear I'll make anything you find less than hilarious up to you later, but now you have to make yourself look nonArabic.”

Smoke was streaming out of the hood. A tremendous
thump
sounded under them.

“We lost a tire,” he said, grinning again.

She stared at him for one last moment, and then scrambled for the back where a small bag held their toiletries. “I don't like this,” she said, pulling out the tube of white cream. She smeared the paste over her face. “I don't like this at all.”

“You look like a ghost.”

She grabbed the visor and looked at her image in the mirror. A streaked white face stared back. The car stopped in a cloud of smoke.

“Perfect,” Seth said. “The crossing is just around that corner. Just drive nice and easy and stop before you get to the police cruiser.”

She spun to him. “Drive? I can't drive!”

“I told you it would come in handy, didn't I?”

Captain John Rogers had just put out his last Lucky Strike and was thinking he'd much rather be back in Shoshone, having a cold brew at Bill's Bar, when he saw the cloud of smoke rolling his way from around the bend.

His first thought was that someone had ignited a smoke bomb, but he discarded the thought when he saw the grille. It was an overheated car, limping as if running on the last cylinder. Banana peckers, that thing was barely crawling. Didn't the fool driver realize he was frying the engine?

He couldn't make out the car because it was crawling under a mask of steam, but by the square grille he pegged it as an old sedan. These here were tourists from New York or Vermont, come to take a picnic in Death Valley without knowing the first thing about the harsh realities of the place. John had seen it a hundred times.

He grunted and leaned back on his hood. “Banana peckers,” he said. He didn't know how the fool could see past the windshield. It was wobbling too. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken . . .

Good night, the thing had burned its wheels off! Was that even possible? The situation had just gone from New Yorker stupid to hardly imaginable imbecile. In his eleven years patrolling these parts, he couldn't remember seeing anything quite like this.

He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Double banana peckers,” he said. “Wait'll the boys get a load of this.”

The car sounded like a limo pulling strings of empty cans after a wedding. It clanked to a steaming halt ten yards off.

John rested his right hand on his gun. Never could be too careful. A man stupid enough to drive this deathtrap was stupid enough to do anything.

The engine died. Hissing smoke boiled skyward. All four tires were gone. Now how in the world was that possible?

The door flew open and someone stumbled out, coughing and gagging on the smoke.

“Hold it there!” John yelled. “Just hold it right there!”

The person straightened, frantic. It was a woman and her face was white. Either sunblock or makeup. Her hair flew every which way, and she reminded him of Gene Simmons wearing that Kiss makeup.

She gripped her hair and turned in a slow circle, moaning.

A faint breeze cleared the smoke for a moment. The car was empty.

He edged forward and peered through the haze.

“You must help me,” the woman moaned.

“You alone, miss?”

She began to jump up and down, screaming at the top of her lungs. “The arks are after me! The arks are after me! Help me, the arks are after me!”

Startled, he followed her terrified look back down the road. “Okay, just go easy, miss. I don't know what you're on, but everything is fine now. There are no arks after you.”

“The arks! You don't understand, I have the ring and the arks are after me!”