This Is the Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

neck, then finally his lips touched hers. On his skin, he felt the narrow beams of warmth shining down from above, and he moved his hand onto her breast, his palm smothering the bright birds of her swimsuit. Through his fingers, he could feel the radiant energy of her low breaths, the soft push of her hard nipple. Eyes closed, bodies joined, he could not see anyone, could not hear a single soul, could no longer feel the collective ache of the missing men his age. There was nothing but Lorrie.
    But it was all too idyllic, the sheer beauty of it all, Terry complained. Somehow she had found them, despite Lance’s best efforts to lose her. “The heat must shrivel their brains,” Terry added, gesturing at the beachgoers surrounding them. “Up in Western City North, it’s colder, more intellectual.”
    Lance and Lorrie shrugged their shoulders and slapped the sand from their feet with their socks. Right then it was decided: the three of them would head up to Western City North.
    On their way out, they drove past another beach, this one slightly hidden in a small cove and bordered by ramshackle homes. “Stop the car,” Lorrie said. “I’ve read about this place, too.” Lance pulled over at a graveled lookout point with an expansive view of the sea. The hike down the cliff was steep, but even from their perch on high, the three of them could see that the beach below was different. White sand, blue water, sure, but there were no rotating women, no umbrellas, no nylon chairs. No women at all, just young men, rubbing and blinking, scratching at their bandages, turning their good ears to hear each other, reattaching the cuff straps of their plastic legs around the residual limbs that remained.
    No one spoke. Finally, after a dismal pause, Lorrie cleared her throat and told them what they already knew. Veterans Beach, she said, was where men recently returned from the jungle went to sunbathe, partly so no one would have to see them, but mostly so they didn’t have to be seen.
    “Let’s get back on the road,” said Terry. “We have plenty of driving left.”
    Lance quickly agreed with her, one of the few times he had done so after several days in the car. They drove away quickly, speeding over potholes rather than swerving.
    By nightfall, they had arrived in Western City North.
    Terry surprised everyone by deciding on her second day that the city was not for her. She sold the old Brand 8 to a man with half a nose who asked her why she didn’t want it anymore. “I’m going rural,” she explained. “Once I get where I’m going, I’ll get a new one. Besides, you can’t really see this country from a car.” Lance and Lorrie saw her off at a bus station. Lance watched a small stripe of tear run down Lorrie’s face as they waved good-bye. He wiped it away for her, but he wasn’t sad to see Terry go.
    Lance and Lorrie had no possessions, but the city was well stocked with furnished apartments. “Registry-runners,” the disgusted landlord told them at the first place they saw. “The last boys just up and left. Two more upstairs I’m keeping an eye on. You can’t always spot the weak ones.”
    Lance and Lorrie nodded.
    “Overall, it’s a good building,” the landlord continued. “Six units total. Some immigrants from Neutral Country P right across the hall. Bad smells, but great cooking. In that other unit, a friendly asthmatic gal. Her husband was a hero. We’ve got good people here.”
    “We’ll take it,” Lance said.
    “A good omen, taking the place today.”
    “What’s today?”
    “Don’t you two read the papers? Today’s a day for celebrating.”
    From the side of his vision, Lance watched as Lorrie made a rapid attempt to rebuild her face, quickly working to disinherit the scowl that had appeared the moment the words left the man’s mouth.
    The landlord seemed to take the masked looks in front of him as close emotional bonds and continued to speak. “That’s right. Just last night our boys took