Wine of the Dreamers Read Free Page B

of ever isolating this X factor. How can you find something that hits without warning and disappears the same way?”
    “Possession by devils,” he said, grinning.
    She stood up, slim against the light, more provocative to him in her complete, thoughtful, forgetfulness of self than if she had posed carefully.
    “Then,” she said, “the devils are more active lately. Oh, I know that every generation that reaches middle age believes firmly that the world is going to hell. But this time, Bard, even at my tender years, I think they may have something. Our culture seems like a big machine that’s vibrating itself to bits. Parts keep flying off. Parts that are important. Decency, dignity, morality. We’ve all gone impulsive. Anything you want to do is all right, provided your urge is strong enough. It’s a … a …”
    “Sociological anarchy?”
    “Yes. And there, Mr. Lane, you have my motivation. Now you know why I’m so desperately anxious for you to succeed. I keep feeling that if mankind can find some newhorizons, there’ll be a return to a decent world. Quaint, aren’t I?”
    They walked across the lot toward the car. He looked at the night sky, at the stars which seemed closer, more attainable here.
    “Elusive devils, aren’t they?”
    She caught his wrist as they walked, her nails biting into the flesh with quick strength. “They won’t stay elusive, Bard. They won’t .”
    “Four years now, that I’ve had my little obsession, Sharan, and they seem as far away as ever.”
    “You’ll never give up, Bard.”
    “I wonder.”
    They had reached the car. Through the rear window, open an inch, came the soft sound of Bill Kornal’s snores.
    “It makes me feel ill to have you talk of giving up,” she said in a half-whisper.
    He leaned over to put the key in the lock. His shoulder brushed hers.
    Without quite knowing how it had happened, he found her in his arms. She stood tightly against him with upturned lips, and with a small, plaintive sound in her throat. He knew that he was bruising her mouth, and could not stop. He knew it was a forgetfulness, a little time stolen from the project, from the endless drain of effort and responsibility. He had expected to find in her all the warmth and passion of any healthy young adult. He was pleased that her intensity matched his own.
    “This is no good,” she said.
    She stood a little aside, her head bent. He knelt and swept his hand back and forth across the gravel until he found the keys. He straightened up.
    “Sorry,” he said.
    “We’re both tired, Bard. We’re both scared to death of what General Sachson might do. We were clinging to each other for … comfort. Let’s forget it.”
    “Let’s not exactly forget it, Sharan. Let’s shelve it for future action.”
    “Please,” she said sharply.
    “All right, so I shouldn’t have said that.” He knew that his tone was a shade indignant.
    He unlocked the door. She slid under the wheel and across to her side. He chunked the door shut and drove out in a long curve onto the highway, accelerated viciously up to cruising speed. He gave her a quick glance. She was staring straight ahead, her face expressionless in the reflected dash lights. A big jack bounded from the shoulder into the road, startling him. He felt the tiny thud in his wrists as the wheel hit it, heard her sharp intake of breath.
    “Just say I was possessed by one of those devils,” he said.
    “Probably we both were,” she said. He glanced again and saw her smile. She moved a bit closer to him. “Besides, Bard, I’m a prim kid, I guess.”
    “Didn’t taste very prim.”
    “That’s what I mean,” she said, enigmatically. “Now be good.”
    The gray sedan droned through the night.

TWO
    As the grayness in the east began to pale the conference room lighting, Bard and Sharan sat with the other three persons awaiting General Sachson.
    Gray, shaggy Colonel Powys, Projects Coordinator, rolled a yellow octagonal pencil against the