fter not sleeping much, they left in the morning soon after sunrise. Amanda was driving.
   “So, we’re outta here on day two.”
   “It’s not like me to be up this early in the morning.” Jeff rubbed his eyes. “But I guess we were both awake an hour ago. So . . . it made sense to get going.”
   “I’ve always been an early riser — I love the freshness of the morning.”
   “I often used to get up to go to the bathroom about five in the morning, and briefly admire the dawn before going back to bed again. If it was particularly beautiful I’d sometimes photograph it. So looking through my photo albums, you could easily get the impression that I’m an early riser. Just one example of how the camera lies. Personally, I prefer the gentle zephyrs of mid morning, and warm, balmy summer evenings.”
   “Not the severe stoic, by the sound of it?”
   “Not me. Give me moderation in all things.”
   “But you do seem to have a flair for early-morning humor.”
   “That’s only because I haven’t woken up properly. Sometimes I fall prey to my own belief in Oscar Wilde’s dictum that ‘only boring people are eloquent before breakfast.’”
   “Mm. I can see how that could get boring. If it doesn’t die a natural death, we might have to stop for breakfast sooner rather than later.”
   “Seems you’re pretty sharp at this hour of the morning, too.”
   “Must have rubbed off from you.”
   “Must have.”
   “And also, I was up before you, phoning my staff.”
   “I hope they’re all early risers like you.”
   “Actually they’re not. All but Berni were asleep, and I woke them up. And of course it was really early in L.A. Still, they were pleased to hear from me. And they all think I’m doing the right thing by escaping the scene. They’re going underground themselves.”
   “Only thing to do”
   “Well, I feel better now, anyway, for having phoned them.”
   “Glad to hear it.” They exchanged smiles.
   “Since you’re navigating, you’d better tell me which way to go.”
   “We were planning to get off the freeway ASAP weren’t we?”
   “Uh huh.”
   He examined the road atlas. “If we stay on the freeway until just after Farmer City, we could branch off onto Highway 136 west across Illinois, and take it from there.”
   As the clock on the dashboard approached six o’clock, Jeff turned on the radio and scanned for a station that might have news coming up.
   “I don’t know how you can figure out which station will have news at six, when it’s only five to.”
   “It’s intuitive. You’ve heard of men’s intuition, haven’t you?”
   “Can’t say I have, actually. But this will be a good test to see if it works.”
   Jeff kept scanning through the stations, until one just happened to say, ‘National news coming up at the top of the hour.’ “There you go. Voila! News!”
   “That’s not intuition! You heard him saying news was coming up.”
   “But my intuition told me to scan the stations before six, even though it didn’t make a lot of sense to. Isn’t that what intuition is all about?”
   “Oh yes! Just your little party game.”
   “No, no, no! It is intuition. I feel offended that you don’t believe me.”
   “So, I’ve just seen an example of that rare and endangered species — the male intuition?”
   “What I like about your facetious comments is that they have . . . such a light touch. They don’t come across as a put down, or as sarcastic, or anything.”
   “Oh? . . . I don’t quite know what to make of that. But I’m going to assume you were serious about it. So, thanks. It’s perceptive of you. I am just having fun. I don’t really hate men, even if I’m a feminist. It’s too corrosive to the soul to hate. I really do love everyone, I’ve decided. Although there are certainly some people I would prefer not to spend too much time with.”
   “I hope I’m not one of them?” Jeff was half quizzical, half serious.
   “No, no. Seriously. You’re OK. You’ve been kind to me. And I do like your company.”
   “Oh, good.”
   “What about me? I can be a little over the top sometimes.”
   “I haven’t noticed it. I’m enjoying this adventure of ours. I’m anxious about what’s happening to America, but I like being with you.”
   “Thanks. That makes me feel more comfortable. You are—The news! Can I turn it up?”
   “Sure. Here.”
   “The latest on the Congress bombing story is that the FBI have arrested two suspects — Muslim agitators known to be sympathetic to al-Qaeda. The search for other perpetrators, however, continues. Their names are—”
   “Inevitable!” Amanda interjected. “The first two of many innocent Muslims who are going to suffer.”
   “And in developments from the White House, President Jones announced late last night that he has appointed a ‘Presidential Governing Council’ to help him administer the country for the duration of the time martial law is in place. He did not name the members of the council, saying that since there were so few of them, their time would be eaten up by lobbyists and reporters, and they could even be in personal danger, if their identities were made public. He did, however, say that the council includes some of the few members of Congress who either were not in the House chamber at the time of the blast, or had survived the blast, and certain prominent ‘upright’ members of the community whom he respects and trusts. Although there was intense pressure on the president at the press conference last night to reveal at least some names, he refused to budge from his position. When asked whether there were any members of religious right organizations on his Governing Council, he simply said, ‘No comment.’”
   “I bet you there are,” said Jeff. “And possibly even more unsavory types from citizen’s militias and white supremacist groups.” They kept listening, but there was not much else of interest. There was reaction from around the world, and condolences from the leaders of many countries, but nothing significant seemed to be happening.
   “I get the feeling there’s a kind of stunned silence everywhere,” Amanda said. “Which is what you’d expect, I guess.”
   “Yes. And have you noticed that there’s no other traffic on this freeway. It’s early, but still . . . ”
   “Kind of eerie.”
   “People have been advised not the travel unless they really need to, but it still does feel weird. I feel kind of conspicuous or something.”
   “Actually, conspicuous is the word, Jeff. If any helicopter or plane flies over they’ll wonder who the hell we are to be hot footing it between cities when everyone else is quietly waiting out the crisis at home. When can we get off this freeway?”
   “I’ll check the atlas . . . See if there’s a closer road . . . Well it looks like the road to Seymour might connect, via Clinton, Mason City and Havana. It should be coming up in a few miles.”
   “Let’s take it then; I’ll be happy to get off the beaten trail. Something tells me we were driving right into a trap.”

   Later when they stopped for gas in Iowa the attendant said to Jeff,
   “I’ve heard there are roadblocks going up on freeways at state borders, and folks are not being allowed out of the state their cars are registered in. They’re searching every vehicle at state lines. Seems to be the Feds enforcing it, not Iowa. The army, from what I’ve heard. Don’t know what they’re doing, though, when someone’s as far away from home as you are.”
   “And I don’t really want to find out. We need to get to California. Do you know what would be the least used road into Nebraska?”
   “Got a map? I could show you one I know. Of course, if the army’s got a mind to stop folks moving interstate until they catch all these Muslim terrorists, then before the day’s out they could have all the roads blocked. But to do that across the whole country would be some job — my guess is this road here will be OK.”
   “Well, thanks a heap.”
   “Good luck.”
   Jeff wandered back to the car via the gas station’s fast food counter.
   “Hey, Amanda, they had these ready-made hamburgers that looked good, so I bought a couple of them, as well as these juices.”
   “Well, thanks, but I’m a vegetarian. I am famished, though. That continental breakfast at the motel hardly even whetted my appetite. Let me have a look at it.” She unwrapped and examined it with rather a jaundiced look. “Junk food, ugh! But if I take the meat pate off, I think what’s left would be better than nothing. Want the extra meat on yours?”
   “Sure. I don’t think there was anything else there that would appeal to you, but you could go take a look for yourself.”
   “No, let’s get going. I’ll just keep an eye out for a health food store, or a market that might sell some fruit.”
   They drove tentatively past a police car by the side of the road at the edge of town. The officer waved to them. Obviously the army had not fully coordinated with all the local police departments yet.
   “The gas station attendant was saying the army is putting roadblocks up on state borders, and are keeping people in their own states.”
   “How’s that going to affect us?”
   “I don’t know. He showed me a back road into Nebraska. Just have to see how it goes.”

   They found that health food store, and stocked up for the rest of the trip, when they made it into Nebraska mid afternoon. Soon after that, when they stopped again for gas, Jeff asked the girl at the register, “Do you know anything about roadblocks on highways leading to Wyoming?”
   “East to Iowa seems like nothing much is getting through. But from Wyoming this farmer told me he was turned back on the interstate, but got through on 26.”
   “Excuse me.” A burly man who had overhead them from behind the counter came up next to the girl. “Are you looking for a good route to get past the roadblocks that are going up?”
   “Yes.”
   “Going west?”
   “Yeah.”
   “There’s someone I could phone up who would know the best road. If you would just like to take a seat, I’ll go out back and phone him. Only take a few minutes.”
   “Just need to go out to my car, but I’ll be back in a minute.” Jeff called out. He smelt a rat. As he pushed open the glass door he noticed his car was now hidden behind a truck which had pulled in. What a stroke of luck!
   “What’s up?” Amanda could see the concerned look on Jeff’s face.
   “We’re getting outta here. I think the owner of the gas station’s phoning the police.” Jeff pulled out onto the road at a normal speed, so as not to attract attention, and decided to take a left off the main road west out of town. A few blocks down he pulled over to see if his map showed a road going south. Just then a police car flashed by, and turned on its siren to cross a red light. It turned right, toward the gas station they were just at, and a few seconds later the siren stopped.
   “What are you going to do?” Amanda whispered.
   “I think I’ll wait right here and see which way he goes. Since I was talking about heading west, I think he’ll head that way. If he does, we’ll find a way out of town south, then a little later double back north to get back on the highway we were on.”
   About two minutes later the siren started up again, and Jeff saw the flash of black, white and orange fly past a few streets back, heading west.
   “OK, we’re outta here.” After a couple of turns, they found their way onto the main route south. “So, let’s look for a road west, then one north again, to get us back on the highway in an hour or so.”
   The strategy worked. After crossing Interstate 80, and seeing there was some traffic on it, they decided to take it west for a while to make up time. Just after dark they branched north onto highway 26 to avoid crossing the state line on the freeway. Each two hours or so they swapped drivers, and the one in the passenger seat tried to sleep in a seat laid back as far as possible, head buried in a pillow. Just after midnight they crossed into Wyoming, and, as the farmer had told the girl at the gas station, there was no roadblock on 26. They decided to press on across Wyoming, to get into Idaho early the next morning. It would be Sunday, and they figured that might give them a little time in the morning, before a roadblock appeared at the border. All night they drove, swapping drivers ever more frequently. In the end they could only do about an hour each before they started nodding off. It was grueling. Dawn cast its rosy glow on the snow-covered Tetons, then the sun climbed into the sky behind them as they ground up and up the winding road over the Teton pass, and down into Idaho. They had been driving twenty-four hours with hardly a break. The sun rose and went down, and then, after the interminable night, came up again, and still they drove. At noon, thirty hours on the road, almost at Stanley in Idaho, they were nearing a hot spring Jeff knew of on the Salmon River.
   “We’ve just got to have a rest,” Jeff said. “And a soak in a hot spring will be just the thing to freshen up.”
   “I’m not going to object to that.”
   “And we might hear something.”
   “The radio certainly hasn’t been much help.”
   “All the soul-searching commentary you would expect, but precious little information about what’s actually happening.”
   “So the springs are just down where those people are?”
   “I think so.”
   “So close to the highway. Can we just park here?”
   “Yeah, well, it is sort of a turn out.”
   “Do you have a towel?”
   “Sure. I’ll get it.”
   “It’ll be nice to get these clothes off.”
   “After wearing them for three days?”
   “Yeah.”
   There were just three other people in the spring, and two more snorkeling in the river nearby.
   “Hi.”
   “Hi.”
   “Lovely day.” Jeff stripped off and sank into the warm embrace of the muddy water. Amanda got in in her undies and bra, then after a few minutes peeled them off, leaned over into the river to rinse them clean of the sulfurous hot spring mud, wrung them out, and put them on a warm rock in the sun to dry.
   “Where have you come from today?” Jeff asked the couple lying next to them.
   “Camped here last night,” the girl answered, “But we came from Oregon yesterday.”
   “Oh? Any problems getting through — across the state line?”
   “Not at all. Some people are saying there are roadblocks going up, though. We’re heading back to Portland tomorrow. Hope we can get back OK.”
   “Yeah. We’re worried about that too.”
   “I don’t know what to think about this bombing of Congress,” chimed in the guy. “Do you think it really happened, or it’s just some excuse to turn the country into a military dictatorship?”
   “It really happened,” Amanda said with conviction. The other couple both turned and looked at her. Jeff responded.
   “We saw it with our own eyes. Day before yesterday. We’ve been driving just about non-stop since then to get back West.”
   “Get outta here! You mean you actually saw it happen?”
   “Sure we did. Still, you’re probably right on the other count. I’m sure they did do it to provide an excuse to turn the country into a military dictatorship.”
   “The Feds; we’d be better off without them.” The guy laughed and took a drag on his reefer.
   “There are always going to be Feds,” Amanda observed. “Just a question of which Feds you’ve got. The ones you’re getting now might be a whole lot worse than the ones you used to have.”
   “Damn sure hope not. Just forget the lot of them, if you ask me.”
   The two snorkelers then climbed into the hot pool.
   “What were you looking at out there?” Jeff floated over toward them.
   “Salmon. And trout. I kid you not. Dozens of them!”
   “Hah! Hear that Amanda?”
   “Well it is the Salmon River.”
   “And they’re not lying about that. You want to look for yourselves? I’ll lend you my mask and snorkel if you like.”
   “Sure! I’m up for that. Thanks. Amanda, do you want to go first?”
   “Oh, I’ll lend you mine, too.” The girl twisted them off the top of her head and passed them to Amanda.
   “Hey thanks.” They waded out into the surprisingly warm river, over the irregular boulders and pebbles on the bottom. They donned their masks and sank below the surface, feeling for rocks as footholds to brace them against the current.
   They both popped up together. “Hey, I saw one!” Amanda burst out.
   “Me too.”
   “You know, despite what they were saying, I didn’t really believe I would see any.”
   “Neat eh?”
   “So long seńor, I’m back with the fish.” And she was back under the swirling river. Jeff dropped down stream a little to find a better spot. He was observing her little-girl enthusiasm and unself-conscious nakedness as much as he was the fish.

   Back on the road again, Amanda asked, “Is that hot spring like the one in Oregon we’re going to?”
   “A little, except the one in Oregon is more out of the way — lost in the forest — and the river it’s on is a lot colder. You can’t just loll about in it like in the Salmon.”
   “Pity. That sure was fun.”
   “Still, I think you’ll find it a cool place.”
   “I look forward to seeing it. But I hope that full-of-himself guy smoking the joint back there isn’t typical of your counter-culture heroes who hang about your hot spring.”
   “Well, you do get a few of his type. But generally speaking, no. I didn’t like him much either. My friends in Oregon are great people. And there are women, too, not just men.”
   “I should hope so.”
   “So it sounds like you’re thinking about hanging around with me in Oregon for a while, at ‘my’ hot spring?”
   “What choice have I got? Sure, I’ll try it.”
   “Well, I’m not exactly sure who we’ll even find there, given what’s happened.”
   “Yes. That’s occurred to me, too. Well, one step at a time.”
   “Exactly.”

   As dusk fell over western Idaho, they spotted a bed and breakfast on the way out of a small town, and Jeff pulled over just past it.
   “What about it?”
   “I say we go for it.”
   “Well, we’re both totally bushed.”
   “All of last night on the road — hardly surprising.”
   “OK. If we stop here, how are we going to check ourselves in?”
   “What do you think?”
   “What if we make out we’re married, but I’ll try and get a room with two beds, again?”
   “Sounds good to me. This is redneck country. They mightn’t be too impressed if we were sharing a room, otherwise. And it’s best to share. How would it look if I went into my room with no luggage? Besides, I need to share your stuff till I can buy some of my own. Tomorrow, when we get to Oregon, I’m stopping at the first town we come to, and buying some things, OK?”
   “Sure.”
   “Unless this hot spring of yours is a nudist colony, I’ll need some clothes, not to speak of . . . Anyway, this doesn’t need to be the Swiss Family Robinson, like we’re stranded on some far-flung island — this is still America, and I’m sure there will be stores open.”
   “I’m sure there will.” Jeff smiled. They did a U-turn and drove up the drive of the bed and breakfast. Inside, an eighteen or nineteen year old girl looked at them over the counter.
   “Hi. My mom’s out at church tonight, and won’t be back till later — there’s some special meeting on after the service. But I can check you in if you like. Queen bed?”
   “Do you have a room with two beds? If you don’t that’s OK, but we are both really tired, and we actually sleep better in separate beds . . . ” Jeff felt he was struggling to sound convincing.
   “That’s OK. We cater for all types. Don’t worry. We have a room with two full beds. Mr. and Mrs. . . ?”
   “Croft.”
   “That’ll be seventy-five dollars.”
   “That’s OK. We’ll take it.”
   “Credit card, or . . . ?”
   “Yes, here.”
   “In the morning breakfast is from seven till nine, just across the hall. I’ll show you your room just as soon as this . . . Here it comes.” She tore off the credit card slip.
   The room struck Jeff as over decorated in a fussy, not very tasteful, way. It reminded him of the homes of many of the people in the church he grew up in. And he remembered the girl saying her mother was at church.
   “What do you think of the room?” he asked Amanda after they’d brought his things up.
   “A little too prim and proper. But the beds seem comfortable. And a shower! If the water’s hot, I’ll be happy.”
   Just before turning out the light, Jeff said, “Earlier on — yesterday — you were starting to say something when the news came on the radio. You said ‘You are—’ then stopped, and I’ve been wondering what you were about to say.”
   “You are . . . you are . . . Oh, I know. I think it was just something like: ‘You are really very nice.’”
   “Well thank you, you’re kind of nice yourself.”
   “Thank you.” Amanda smiled, then yawned. “Good night. Oh! So I finally found out your last name, eh — Croft?”
   “Yeh. I told you I’d tell you when I knew you better.”
   “When you felt you could trust me, I expect.”
   “Well, I trust you now.”
   “That’s nice to know. Good night . . . Jeff Croft.”
   “Good night Amanda.”