Her breaths were short and erratic as she moved under him, her eyes closed, the lids fluttering as he watched them, sunlight through the curtains splashing across the face he knew so well…
They walked in the woods, both of them having showered together after they’d left the bed. Rourke wore jeans and boots and a pale blue shirt. His leather coat was open. Sarah’s arm wrapped around his waist and under her coat. She shivered a little as they stepped into a small clearing a few hundred yards from the old house.
“Why did you come back, John?” she whispered, quietly.
“To see if we could patch things up. I don’t care whether you think what I’m doing is right or wrong. But I want to be with you-you and the kids.”
“But what about the children?” she said. “I don’t want them growing up with the idea that death and violence are just normal-like you feel. Maybe you’re right-I’ll give you that. Maybe I’m so wrong that I’m a fool. But if everyone does nothing but prepare for the destruction of civilization, there won’t be any civilization left to be destroyed. Do you know what I mean?”
“If the world is going to end, you’d rather not know about it?”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s something like that. I don’t want Michael and Ann growing up with guns and violence-there are other things. You, of all people, should know that. But you ignore it.”
Rourke walked away from her and sat on a deadfall log in the middle of the clearing. In a moment she was standing beside him, her hands resting on his shoulders. “After all these years you still don’t understand what I’m doing,” he said. “You should come up to the retreat. Maybe you’d understand it better then.”
“What do you mean?”
“All the money I’ve poured into the retreat over the last few years-you never once would go there. It’s not an arsenal. It’s a part of civilization, a protected piece. That’s why I put it where I did-up in the mountains. That’s why you can only get there by horse or motorbike-in good weather, with a four by four truck.”
Sitting down beside him, she said, “All right. Tell me about the retreat.”
Rourke looked at her, then said, “Okay. I’ll tell you about it. You never wanted to know before.” He sighed. “It was a cave to begin with. I bought the piece of the mountain first, then sealed off the cave completely-waterproofed it, everything. Using the natural configuration of the rocks, I built a second home there-for all of us. A place we could use when we wanted just to get away from things. And a place that, if everything fell apart, we could go to and still live like human beings. I turned the mouth of the cave into a long hallway. At the end of it is the great room-the ceiling must be thirty feet high and it’s natural rock. It’s huge. It’s the library, living room, recreation room-it’s just where you live. Opening off that are three smaller rooms that are bedrooms. Another room with a full kitchen. Baths, everything. The electrical power comes from an underground spring that runs the generators I installed. Heating is electric-with the rock and the high ceilings you never need cooling.”
“It sounds like something from a science fiction movie.”
“Maybe,” Rourke said. “But it’s nice-beautiful, comfortable, secure. The air that comes into the place is all filtered and scrubbed. Far in the back I built a humidified greenhouse that uses electric plant lights-those things last almost forever. It’s self-contained, an environment within an environment. Books, music, videotape equipment, enough rations for the four of us for a couple of years. I even laid up a supply of booze. It’s not an arsenal. Most of my guns I have with me all the time. I keep a few there. A lot of ammunition there. But that’s just for security if necessary, and for hunting, not for a war.”
“But if there were a collapse, John, wouldn’t your retreat be discovered? I mean, how can you keep something like that hidden?”
“Our retreat, Sarah,” Rourke said. “And it wouldn’t be discovered. From the outside it looks like just a granite outcropping of the mountain. The entrance is completely concealed. Nobody’d find it unless they knew it was there and made an organized search of the whole area to find the entrance. It’s even got an emergency escape exit along the stream that powers the place. And the water is fresh. I’ve got a filtering system to use if necessary, but the water apparently stays deep underground for a long time. It’s clearer and sweeter than anything you’ve ever drunk. The temperature of the water is so cold, the spring might start off up by Canada. There’s no way to tell.”
She turned her face to his and said abruptly, “Why aren’t you in Canada for your lecture, John?”
“Simple,” he said, his voice low, his eyes staring down at the ground between his boots. “I was in a helicopter with my Pakistani liaison officer. On the way out we saw the first prong of the Soviet invasion from the air. I’ve still got plenty of contacts with CIA and State. If the Russians don’t pull out of Pakistan, we’re going in with troops to push them out. And you know what that could start.”
“God, John, no. No one would be senseless enough to start a world war. I just can’t believe that.”
“Well,” Rourke said, “I hope you’re right. In case you aren’t, though, I wanted to try to persuade you to come to the retreat with the kids-stay with me there until this thing all blows over, or-”
She cut him off. “Or until the war starts and we can’t leave.”
“Something like that,” he said, not looking at her.
“You go to Canada,” she whispered. “And when you come back, let’s try to start over again. Maybe we’ll even visit your-our-retreat. How long will you be gone?”
“It’s three days-with travel, make it four. I don’t have to go.”
“Yes, you do. If I want to get myself psyched up for trying again, you’ve got to. Can you stay the night and leave in the morning?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” Sarah said, her voice a whisper.
Chapter Six
“Commanche Nine holding at Fail Safe point, sir,” the young airman droned, still studying the control panel before him. The captain behind him did not indicate whether he had heard him, but continued walking along the rank of thirty-six consoles on the mezzanine overlooking the Sioux Mountain Strategic Air Command Global Layout. The lights of the console blinked on and off in various colors, indicating the positions and statuses of flights. Many of the lights were glowing amber; those flights were all within a few air miles of the Soviet mainland, and the amber color indicated they were armed with nuclear warheads and holding at the Fail Safe point-poised to penetrate Soviet defenses, armed and ready, awaiting a digitally coded attack order. Once that was issued, only a specific, complex recall code could be issued to make the bombers pull out. At the end of the rank of consoles and blue-clad airmen monitoring them, the captain turned a corner and moved along the catwalk to the other side of the mammoth, amphitheater-like room. On this side, there was a nearly identical row of airmen, with nearly identical consoles. The map on the far wall of this room was nearly identical to the one on the other, but the lights were in different patterns and of different colors.
Here, most of the lights were navy blue-Soviet Ilyushin 28 and Myasishchev 500 bombers holding on their Fail Safe points-just a respectable distance outside the continental United States.
Lights changed, as the captain strolled past the map, but the numbers of them did not. There were quite a few more blue lights on this board than there were amber lights on the opposite board. The thought worried the captain slightly, and he made the decision that he should alert his superior to the numbers game scoring on the twin boards.
He picked up the receiver of the white phone nearest him, dialed the code, and waited.
“You must go, sweetheart. Just a precaution, but a president is human, too. How can I function at my best if I’m worried about your safety and the safety of the children?” He smiled at her, not the smile he had used on election night, nor the smile he used at press conferences when one of the network reporters asked an awkward question-but the smile he saved for her and the children. As he put his arms around her, he reflected that it was likely his only real smile. There was little else to smile about these days.
“But, Andrew,” she whispered, her cheek resting against the front of his blue three-piece suit, “why can’t you go with us? You can run things just as well from Mt. Lincoln as you can from here. You’ve told me that yourself.”