"As if you didn't already know! What the hell difference does it make what I want to do?"

"Well," said Doc. "Well, then."

Actually he did not want to be separated from her. Even if it had been practical, he would not have wanted it. And despite anything she said or did, he knew that she felt the same way. They were still in love-as much as they had ever been. Strangely, nothing had changed that.

His eyes drifted shut. He wondered where the family of sharecroppers was by now, and subconsciously he wished that he was still with them. It hadn't been at all bad, that long creeping journey across half of the United States. Nothing to do but ride and ride, with every day exactly like the one before. No worries, no decisions to make. Above all the freedom, in fact the necessity, not to talk.

He had never before realized the blessedness of silence-the freedom to be silent, rather, if one chose. He had never realized, somehow, that such blessedness might be his privilege. He was Doc McCoy, and Doc Mc Coy was born to the obligation of being one hell of a guy. Persuasive, impelling of personality; insidiously likable and good-humored and imperturbable. One of the nicest guys you'd ever meet, that was Doc McCoy. They broke the pattern when they made him. And, of course, Doc did like people and he liked to be liked. And he'd been well compensated for his efforts in that direction. Still-well, there you were. It had become an effort, something else that he hadn't realized.

Maybe he was just very tired, he thought wearily. And very worried. Because exactly what they were going to do after they got to Golie's he didn't know.

"Doc," Carol said. "What's the next step, after we get to Golie's?"

Doc grimaced. She can read my mind, he thought. "I'm thinking about it," he said. "I haven't decided yet."

"You don't know, do you? You haven't any plan."

"Now, that's putting it a little strong. I'll have to check around, and-" her scornful smile stopped him. "All right," he said, "I don't know."

She waited, staring at him demandingly. He fumbled the lunch bucket open and took another drink. He gestured with it diffidently, then quickly recapped it and put it away.

"I-it would have been simple enough ordinarily," he explained. "I mean, if we could have made it before they had the alarm out for us. Coming back from Mexico, you're apt to get a pretty thorough going over. But going over, they hardly take a second look at you. You can just walk across the border, or drive across and…"

"All right! But that's what we could have done!"

"Well-maybe we still can. There doesn't seem to be much noise out here about us. Maybe…"

He broke off, unable to continue so palpable a lie. Perhaps there wasn't any general search for them on the West Coast, but the border patrol would certainly have been alerted.

"We'll see," he mumbled. "I'll have to look around. Maybe I can get a line on Ma Santis."

"Ma Santis!" Carol let out a disgusted snort. "Just like that you're going to get a line on Ma Santis, huh? You already told me you thought she was dead, and even if she wasn't I'd like to know how you're going to get a line on her or anyone else. You can't make any inquiries. You can't go wandering around and…"

"That's right. I can't," Doc said curtly; and he got up and entered the rest room.

Seated on the long leather couch, he lighted a cigarette, looked wearily out into the moonlit night. He had always thought this was the most beautiful stretch of country in the world, this area of orange and avocado groves, of rolling black-green hills, of tile-roofed houses-all alike yet all different-stretching endlessly along the endless expanse of curving, white-sand beach. He had thought about retiring here some day and, though the idea was preposterous, he still thought about it. He could see himself and Carol on the patio of one of those incredibly gay houses. Barbecuing a steak perhaps, or sipping tall drinks while they stared out to sea. There would be a cool breeze blowing in, temperately cool and smelling of salt. And…

"Doc-" Carol murmured suddenly from the doorway.

He said, "Coming," and rejoined her in the seat. And she patted his hand and gave him a lingering smile.

"You know something, Doc?" she whispered. "This will be our first night together. Our first night together and alone."

"So it will!" Doc made his voice hearty. "It doesn't seem possible, does it?"

"And I'm not going to let anything spoil it either. Nothing! We'll just pretend like we don't have a worry in the world tonight. Just push everything out of our minds and have ourselves a nice long hot bath, and something to eat and-and…"

She squeezed his hand. Almost fiercely.

"Sandy-Egg-O!" bawled the conductor. "Next stop is San Diego!"

The cabdriver accepted Doc's tip with a grunt of surprise; he'd figured this pair for stiffs and maybe even no-pays. They were some kind of foreigners, he guessed, and they didn't know their way around yet. And he hastened to place himself at their disposal.

"Maybe you folks would like to go somewhere for a bite to eat?" he suggested. "After you, uh, get cleaned up a little I mean."

"Well-" Doc glanced at Carol. "I'm not sure just how long we'll…"

"Or I could bring you something if you don't want to go out. Sandwiches, chicken an' French fries, maybe some Chinese or Mexican food. Anything you say, beer, booze, or baloney, and no service charge. Just my cab fare and waitin' time."

"Suppose you wait a moment," Doc said. "I'll have to see about a cabin."

Fat little Golie was nervous, but then Golie almost always was; he had things to make him that way. So Doc couldn't say just what it was that made him feel uneasy. He stalled over the selection of a cabin, finally choosing one at the far end of the court. But his effort to smell out the trouble he felt, to get at the source of his hunch, was unavailing.

Leaving the office, he gave the cabdriver his cabin number and a twenty; ordered two chicken dinners, cigarettes and a carton of coffee. The cabdriver saluted and sped away, and Doc and Carol went down the long single row of cabins to the last one.

He unloeked the door, switched on the light.

Carol yanked down the shade, pirouetted, and flopped down on the bed,kicking her legs high into the air. "Boy," she breathed. "Does this ever feel good!" Then, wiggling her finger at him, "Come here you! Right this minute!"

Doc took a step toward her, then stopped short, frowning. "Listen! Do you hear anything?"

"Oh, now, Doc. Of course, I hear something. After all, we're not the only people in the court."

Doc stared at her absently, his brow furrowed with thought. Carol jumped up and put her arms around him. Leaned into him, smiling up into his face. This was to be their night together, didn't he remember? Their first night in more than four years. So would he kindly stop acting foolish and jumpy, and…

"That's it!" Doc's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Golie's family! There was none of 'em around, didn't you notice? Not even that overstuffed wife of his, and she hasn't been twenty feet away from the place since she came here. We've got to get out of here, Carol! Now!"

"G-get out? But-but…"

"He's sent them away somewhere, don't you see? He must have! And there's only one reason why he would have."

"But-" Carol looked at him incredulously. "But why? What could…"

"I don't know! It doesn't matter! It may be too late already, but…"

It was too late. There was a crunch of gravel outside. Then a polite knock on the door, and a woman's soft voice.

"Mr. Kramer? Miz Kramer?"

Doc stiffened, whipped a gun from beneath the bib of his overalls. He gripped Carol's arm, held it for a moment, then nodded to her.