“The place is built over an underground spring. The spring runs a mini-turbine that powers an electrolyzer. That breaks down the water into hydrogen and oxygen. The main generator in that locked room you couldn’t get into when you jiggled the knob burns the hydrogen for fuel.”

  “Sorry,” Walter said. “I was just curious. I thought Vivien said you were a squatter. I didn’t expect any of this.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Vivien corrected him. “You did.”

  “I own a hundred acres,” Millie said. “I like my privacy.”

  “I can see that. Do you happen to have any gasoline you can spare?” asked Walter. “The car’s about a mile from here.”

  “It’s Lenny’s Prius,” Vivien said.

  “His Prius?” said Millie. “Why’d you go and borrow that? They’re always running out of gas because you yuppies that drive them think you don’t ever have to fill them up. Didn’t you see the light blinking?” She stared at Walter while he tried not to look stupid. “Well, anyway, I’m glad you’re here. I’ll get you some gas once we’ve visited a spell.”

  She and Vivien sat on the sofa and Walter relaxed in an easy chair while they caught up on the news from the six months since they’d last seen each other. Millie had developed mild carpal tunnel syndrome in her left wrist and had to wear a brace most of the time. Her knees ached a lot, her back, too, but her only real complaint was that it made online gaming harder. She had a back-woodsy kind of way about her that put Walter at ease and made him feel at home. Millie had taken her third survival class that spring from some expert named Brown who lived in the Pines and was famous for tracking down lost children. They had learned how to forage for food in the wilds, and she was proud of the fact that a seventy year-old woman had done best in the class.

  “Put those rednecks to shame,” she laughed. “They think with their flannel shirts and their strike-anywhere matches hidden in their cowboy boots they’re all special. They can’t tell a wild carrot from a hemlock, can’t forage for crap, and can’t start a fire with a bow drill to save their butts even with their cheater matches.” She got up and stretched her weary bones. “You two ate yet?”

  “Actually, no,” Walter said. “I was thinking we’d find a place on the way back to Pitville.”

  “Nonsense,” said Millie. “Just make yourselves comfortable while I rustle us up some grub.”

  “Grub? You mean real grubs, like things you foraged from the woods?” Walter said as Millie headed for the stairs.

  “You city boys crack me up,” she laughed and left them in the living room.

  “She really is a good cook,” Vivien said.

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Walter. “I’d just like to know what she’s cooking. Is it crocodile, or buzzard, or some weed from the swamps here?”

  “Walter,” Vivien laughed. “She shops at the grocery store in town, just like you.”

  Dinner was a stew more delicious than Walter had ever had at the Pitville Diner, so he adopted a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy on it as he ladled out seconds. He looked around, admiring the spotless kitchen, and asked, “Don’t you get claustrophobic living underground like this?”

  “You get used to it, and it’s a darn sight safer down here,” Millie said.

  “Safer from what? Wild animals?”

  “Forest fires, tornadoes, aliens, pretty much everything.”

  “Aliens?”

  “Migrant workers. We get them a lot around here in the summer. They’re good people, but they like to stir things up on a Saturday night.” She watched Vivien fiddling with her glasses. “Something wrong with your specs, honey?”

  “I’ve been having some trouble with them,” Vivien shrugged. “Nothing serious.”

  “Walter, help yourself to more varmint goulash while I adjust Vivy’s specs.”

  “Varmint?”

  Millie laughed. “You’re so gullible. Cute too. I may have to hog-tie you and keep you for myself. I don’t think the dog will mind sharing her pen. Come on into the lab, sweetie,” she said to Vivien, “and I’ll fix you right up.”

  Walter passed on a third helping of stew, opting instead for another Coke from the fridge. The women had gone into the workroom down the hall and closed the door behind them. That made Walter curious, and against his better judgment, he went to the workroom door and listened.

  “The lens is all of out whack,” Millie was saying.

  “I bumped into Walter and they fell,” Vivien said.

  “That would do it. You need to take better care of these, honey. They have to be just right or they won’t do you any good.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. They’re just so awkward.”

  “There,” Millie said. “How’s that?”

  “Perfect,” said Vivien.

  “Why did you bring him here?” Millie asked.

  “He offered to drive.”

  “And you said, ‘yes?’”

  Walter couldn’t make out what Vivien whispered next.

  “Not a good idea, Vivy,” he heard Millie say.

  Walter froze. He thought he could feel one of them looking right through the door at him, but then Millie continued, “You like him, don’t you?”

  “He’s nice.”

  “Take my advice. That’s not a good idea, either.”

  Walter heard Vivien sigh. “We should get back before he wonders what happened to us.”

  Walter returned to the kitchen and was pretending to look for ice in the freezer when they came back into the room. “All good?” he said.

  “Right as rain,” said Millie.

  After coffee, Millie offered to drive them back to the Prius in her pickup with a can of gas so they could be on their way, but when they came upstairs and saw the first threads of lightning lacing the sky, followed by the deafening boom of thunder, they decided to wait awhile.

  “You wouldn’t want a big old pine tree falling on you out here, now would you?” Millie said.

  It rained hard for a good hour, turning the dirt road to a sea of mud. Millie brought out a bottle of wine and cheese and crackers, and they sat on the living room floor playing Crazy Eights.

  “What did you do for Pandactic, if you don’t mind my asking?” Walter said when they were into their fifth game.

  “Electronics,” she said, dropping an eight onto the pile. “I’m calling ‘hearts,’ and read ‘em and weep — last card.”

  “It’s another eight, isn’t it?” said Walter.

  “Maybe. All I can say is, it’s a good thing for you we’re not playing Strip Crazy Eights.”

  Walter threw his cards in. “I give up. You’re unbeatable.”

  “Finally, a man with some common sense.”

  “When you say ‘electronics,’ do you mean that you wired circuit boards, or what?”

  “I’m good with my hands, honey. I wired them, designed them, built them, everything from transistors to computers. You name it, I did it.”

  “How long have you two known each other?”

  The women exchanged glances.

  “Millie raised me after my mother died,” Vivien said.

  “So, you’re from France, too?” Walter asked her.

  “France?” Millie said.

  “Millie’s not from France, Walter,” said Vivien, “but she knew my mother and father.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  They finished the wine and cheese, and it was nearly 11:00 p.m. and still raining.

  “Don’t think you two will be going anywhere tonight,” Millie said. “Vivy, you get your old half of the bed, well mostly half. I still thrash around a lot. Walter, you get the sofa. I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”

  Walter hesitated. “I shouldn’t. I mean, I hardly know you, and you’re…”

  “Women?” Millie said.

  “Well, yes. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Suit yourself. You’re welcome to sleep on the porch.”

  “He’s not sleeping on the porch, Millie,” said Vivien. “We’ll lock the hatch, Walter. How’s that?”

  “Thanks,” he said. “That’s fine.”

  Walter hadn’t packed his toothbrush, his hairbrush, his slippers, or his bathrobe. He was sitting on the sofa wondering what tomorrow morning would bring when Vivien came upstairs carrying a blanket and pillow, and wearing a nightgown of Millie’s that fit her like a tent. She sat down and placed the bedding between them.

  “I was just wondering what it’s going to be like to wake up tomorrow morning without my neighbor’s floodlights,” Walter said. “Things sure have been different lately.”

  “Yes, they have,” said Vivien.

  “Millie’s nice. All of your friends are.”

  “We’re a family,” Vivien said.

  “It’s important to have people who love you and who care about you. Everyone needs that whether they realize it or not. They’re lucky to have you, Vivien.”

  “I’m lucky to have them.”

  Walter turned to her. “Thanks for letting me drive you around today, and thanks for listening.”

  “Thank you for coming. I’m sure Lenny and his Prius thank you too.”

  “I just hope we can get it out of the mud,” Walter said.

  Vivien took off her glasses, and they looked at each other for a moment. “Good night, Walter,” she said and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She went downstairs and closed and locked the hatch behind her.

  “Good night, Vivien,” said Walter.

  Walter lay awake on the sofa until nearly midnight when he retrieved the TV remote and turned it on, muting the sound. Millie didn’t have the new sci-fi channel, so he watched Gilligan’s Island until midnight, turned off the TV, and fell sleep.

  Chapter 11

  The rain had stopped, and it was hot and humid the next morning when Walter got up and went outside. It was long past 6:03 a.m. There were no neighbor floodlights to greet him, no suit and tie laid out on the bed, no cereal for breakfast, and no newspaper thunking against the screen door. Millie joined him on the porch with a cup of coffee in one hand and another for him.

  “Thanks,” Walter said. “It’s kind of nice out here in the middle of nowhere, except for the bugs.”

  “Here.” She handed him a leaf from her shirt pocket. “Rub this on your neck and they won’t bother you.”

  “What is it, poison ivy?”

  Millie thumped him on the back. “You’re a funny one, Walter Stickle. It’s peppermint. It grows wild all around here. Bugs hate it, and it makes you smell real pretty.”

  Walter sniffed the leaf and rubbed it on his neck. “It smells like a Lifesaver. How long have you lived out here, Millie?”

  “Oh, longer than I care to admit.”

  “Do you feel safe living in the middle of nowhere?”

  She whistled. The underbrush rustled, and from the trees bolted a fawn-colored Doberman pinscher. It stopped at the porch and squared off inches from Walter’s face, snarling and ready to attack.

  “Nice doggy?” said Walter.

  “Does that answer your question?” said Millie. “Walter, meet Rusty. Rusty, this is Walter. Don’t kill him, girl. I don’t feel like cleaning up a mess on the porch.” The dog cocked its head sideways at her. “Rancho,” she said. Rusty stopped snarling and sat down. “You can pet her if you like, but I don’t carry insurance.”

  “No, that’s all right.” Walter slid backward just a bit.

  “You’re not afraid of a little dog, are you?”

  “Show me a little dog and I’ll let you know.”

  Millie laughed again. “I like you, Walter. You’re good people.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I like you, too, Millie, especially now that I know you’re not going to kill me because it would make a mess.”

  “Bendix,” she said to the dog, and it wandered off into the trees. Millie put her coffee down, took Walter by the arm, and looked him in the eyes. “Just so you know, friend to friend, my little Vivy’s a real special person, and I would be a might unhappy if anyone were to hurt her.”

  “I would never hurt Vivien,” said Walter. “I like her… a lot.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Oh. Well, don’t worry. She’s going back home soon, so I guess that’s that.”

  Millie loosened her grip. “Good. Then, we understand each other. Now, let’s get some breakfast so you two can get on the road again.”

  Walter’s day started looking up when Millie served him something identifiable for breakfast — the same cereal he ate every morning, in milk that came in a container from the same supermarket chain where he shopped in Pitville — until she told him that she’d dumped the cow chalk out and filled the plastic jug with raccoon milk.

  “It tastes better and has more protein,” she said.

  Walter stopped in mid-chew. “They milk raccoons?”

  Millie just shook her head, “Like I told you last night, Walter, you ain’t even swift enough to make it into Gullible’s Travels.”

  Walter’s day continued to improve when the three of them drove off in Millie’s pickup truck and the dirt road wasn’t too bad. They gassed up the Prius, and Millie followed them to where the road changed to gravel. They stopped there and said good-bye.

  On the drive south to Pitville, Vivien was quiet, looking out the window as they passed from the forest back to civilization on roads lined with strip malls, convenience stores, cheap motels, and gas stations.

  “It was a lot nicer in the forest,” Walter said. “I guess we haven’t done such a hot job taking care of our country, have we? I mean, how many gas stations do we need? And there,” he pointed. “There’s a perfect example of what we’re doing wrong. Why are they building a new strip mall next to one that’s half vacant? It’s exactly the same building, a hundred feet away.”

  “It does seem to be wasteful,” Vivien said.

  “And look at those poor guys slaving in this heat. I’ll bet they barely get minimum wage. I wonder if they’re immigrants? I read an editorial last week that said that all of our problems could be traced back to the immigrants. The guy that wrote the piece said that there are just too many of them, legal and illegal. Can you believe someone would say that?”

  “And what do you think, Walter?” Vivien asked.

  They passed a landfill where the garbage trucks were backed up onto the shoulder of the highway waiting to dump their loads onto a mountain of trash.

  “I don’t think that’s the problem at all,” Walter said. “Everyone in this country is a descendant of an immigrant from somewhere. Even the American Indians came across the Bering Strait from Siberia or something like that, didn’t they? The problem isn’t the immigrants, it’s that right and wrong have been reduced to dollars and cents. The builder putting that strip mall up back there knows he can sell it at a profit to a real estate manager who will figure he can rent the spaces long enough to make money off the hopeful suckers who for some reason think they can do better than that bunch in the mall going out of business next door. And that makes it all right? It doesn’t seem to matter to them that the businesses won’t survive. The builder will turn a profit, the real estate broker will get his cut, the stores will declare bankruptcy to get out of their debt, and we all pay for it in the end. We’re ruining everything.”

  “What would you do about illegal immigrants?”

  “Illegal immigrants? I don’t know. The way I look at it, everyone comes here for a reason. I think mostly, they’re just looking for a better life. How can you turn away someone who’s just trying to make things better for themselves and their family? I mean, that’s what everyone wants, isn’t it? I think we should do everything we can to help the ones who have made it here, legally or otherwise. We should try to help their countries too. Maybe if things weren’t so bad where they came from, they wouldn’t have to leave their homes in the first place.”

  “That’s very altruistic, but what about the ones who came here to escape the laws of their own land?”

  “You mean criminals? I guess that depends. People who run away to escape oppression or injustice should be granted asylum, but real criminals? They should be sent back where they came from to face justice in their own countries.”

  “And who decides who’s a real criminal and who’s not, and what’s just and what’s not?”

  Walter looked across the seat at her. “I’m not sure, Vivien, but people know in their hearts what’s right and what’s wrong.”

  They stopped for gas just outside Pitville. Walter stared out the window at the cars coming and going as if nothing were wrong, turning his cell phone over in his hand.

  “Are you going to call your office or aren’t you?” Vivien asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know.”

  “You’ll find out sooner or later.”

  “I suppose. I’ll call Mr. Ruben just before closing time.”

  “Can I have your collection of action figures if they send you to jail?”

  “What?”

  “I’m kidding, Walter.”

  “Oh.”

  “Try not to worry so much, okay? Everything will be all right.”

  “Famous last words.”

  They drove to Lenny’s apartment. It was one in a complex of garden apartments overlooking Alcorn Lake. The people of Pitville called Alcorn Lake an oversized bathtub, dug narrow and deep with a drain plug at one end. It had been created in the 1930s during the Great Depression when half the town was out of work. With their federal grant money, the town council decided to build a recreational area, and they hired every unemployed, able-bodied citizen in town to help dredge the bed of Oak Creek and construct a spillway at one end to create the lake. They also built several pavilions along the water and even had a boardwalk that mimicked Atlantic City of the 1930s with rides and games. That part of the park was shut down after World War II, but people still used the pavilions for Sunday picnics, the town still had fireworks there on the Fourth of July, and all town parades ended there at the reviewing stand.

  They rang the bell twice and knocked. Lenny opened his door a crack and peered at them past the security chain. When he recognized Walter and Vivien, he closed and reopened the door and let them in.

 

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