The Valkyries

“Let’s take off our clothes,” Paulo said.

“But someone might be watching,” Chris said automatically.

Paulo laughed. They could see for miles around them. The day before, when they had been out walking all morning and afternoon, only two cars had passed—and, even then, they had heard the sound of their approach long before the cars had appeared. The desert was the sun, the wind, and the silence.

“Only our angels are watching,” he answered. “And they’ve already seen us naked many times.”

He took off his shorts and his shirt and the canteen, placing them all in the bag.

Chris struggled to keep from laughing. She took her clothes off too, and in a few moments they were two people crossing the Mojave in their sneakers, their hats, and their sunglasses—one of them carrying a bag. Anyone watching would find it hilarious.

Chapter 11 (#ulink_2394647f-51db-5d2c-b691-b1ac64a0fd21)

THEY WALKED FOR HALF AN HOUR. THE car was still just a point on the horizon, but—in contrast to the lake—it was growing in size as they approached it. They would be there in a short while.

Suddenly, Chris felt tremendously tired.

“Let’s rest for a few minutes,” she said.

Paulo stopped immediately, saying, “I can’t carry this bag anymore. I’m really tired.”

How could he not be able to carry the bag? Even with everything it held, it couldn’t weigh more than six or seven pounds.

“You have to carry it. The water’s in there.”

Right, he had to carry it.

“Well then, let’s get going,” he said irritably.

Everything was so romantic just a few minutes ago, thought Chris. And now he was irritated. Well, forget it. She was tired, too.

They walked a bit farther, and their exhaustion worsened. If it were up to her, nothing more would be said—she didn’t want to make things worse.

What a dope, she thought. To get angry in the midst of such beauty, and right after they had been talking about such interesting things as…

She couldn’t remember, but it wasn’t important. She was too tired to think now.

Paulo stopped and put the bag down in the sand. “Let’s rest,” he said.

He didn’t seem irritated now. He must be getting tired, too. Just like her.

There was no shade. But she needed to rest.

They sat down on the hot sand. The fact that they were naked and that the ground burned their skin didn’t matter. They had to stop. Just for a while.

She remembered what they had been discussing: horizons. She noticed that now, even without wanting to, she had the feeling that her soul had grown. And it seemed like her second mind had stopped working altogether. She didn’t think of melodies or repetitious things, and she didn’t even care if someone was watching them walk naked across the desert.

Nothing was important. She felt relaxed, un-worried, free.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence. It was hot, but the sun didn’t bother them. If it started to, they had plenty of water.

He stood up first.

“I think we had better keep walking. It’s not far to the car now. We’ll rest in the air-conditioning when we get there.”

She was sleepy. She just wanted to nap for a bit. But she got up, anyway.

They walked a bit farther, and now the car was getting close. Not more than ten minutes to walk.

“Since we’re so close, let’s sleep for a while. Five minutes.”

Sleep for five minutes? Why would he say that? Was he reading her mind? There couldn’t be any problem with sleeping for just five minutes. They could get a good tan, as if they’d been to the beach.

They sat down again. They had been walking for half an hour, not counting their pauses. Why couldn’t they just sleep for five minutes or so?

They heard the sound of a motor. Half an hour earlier, she would have leaped up and dressed in a hurry. But now, so what? It didn’t matter at all. Let anyone look who wants to look. It didn’t make any difference to her. She just wanted to sleep.

Paulo and Chris watched calmly as a truck drove down the road, passed their car, and stopped just beyond. A man got out and walked toward the vehicle. He looked inside, then walked around the car, examining everything.

Might be a thief, Paulo thought. He imagined the guy stealing the car, leaving them both stranded in the desert with no way to get back. The key was in the ignition—he hadn’t taken it with him for fear of losing it.

But they were in the Mojave Desert. In New York, maybe. But here—no one stole cars here.

Chris looked out at the desert. It was golden and beautiful. Golden. Different from the pinkness of the desert at sundown.

An agreeable feeling of relaxation permeated her entire body. The sun didn’t bother her—people didn’t know how lovely the desert could be during the day!

The man gave up his inspection of the car, and placed his hand above his eyes. He was looking for them.

She was naked … and he would surely see that. So what? Paulo didn’t seem worried, either.

The man began walking toward them. The feeling of lightness and euphoria was increasing, but exhaustion kept them from moving. The desert was golden and beautiful. Everything was serene, at peace—the angels, yes, the angels would appear before long. That was what they had come to the desert for—to talk with their angels!

She was naked, and she was not ashamed.

The man stopped when he reached them. What language was he speaking? They couldn’t understand what he was saying.

Paulo tried to concentrate on what he was hearing, and realized that the man was speaking English. After all, they were in the United States.

“Come with me,” the man said.

“We want to rest,” Paulo said. “Five minutes.”

The man picked up the bag and opened it.

“Put this on,” he said to Chris, handing her clothing to her.

She forced herself to get up, and did as he said. She was too tired to argue.