Weekend - By Christopher Pike Page 0,43

throat's dry."

"Is that the only problem?"

"No. I don't even know you." She was still coughing.

His voice was suddenly grave. "Don't you?"

"No."

"But you recognize me. You and Park, you both recognize me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Yet, she was lying. His face was as familiar to her as the one in her own mirror. He nodded, reading her mind.

"You knew once, at least. Before this night is over, you will know again." He stood. He wasn't going to kiss her again. He probably wasn't going to shoot her, either. "Tie your shoes. We have to get back."

With her Nikes tied, he helped her up, brushing off her jeans. The tranquillity the wise man had bestowed was straining against this assault of fear and danger, of passion and uncertainty.

"You said you wouldn't hurt Robin," she said as they began to walk towards the house. "Are you going to hurt any of the others?"

"Only if they deserve it."

She stopped. "What if I try to stop you?"

"Don't Shani." He strode on without waiting for her. "You'd regret it."

How quick his cool could return. She had a crush on him but she honestly didn't even think she liked him. "I know who you are," she called. "You're Snake."

He turned. Without a shred of conceit in his voice, he said, "No, I'm Eagle."

On the road back, she had to stop once to be sick. Flynn - Michael - didn't even ask what was troubling her.

It began to rain.
Chapter Eight
Poor lighting had always irritated his eyes. The lone lamp on Robin's nightstand was little more than a night-light. Park thought of turning on the overhead lights, but he feared they might wake Robin. There was no reason for him to be sitting beside her bed, anyway. Nevertheless, he felt no inclination to move.

When he closed his eyes and listened to the drowsy rhythm of her breathing, the pelting rain against the house, he could imagine they were elsewhere, in a world of enchantment and deathless bodies. However, this rain was no boon from the gods. His remark, when they had driven up in the car yesterday, had been prophetic. With the mud, the house was now an island.

Robin was covered to her chin with a colourful patchwork quilt Shani had sewn in their freshman year.

Before falling asleep, she had taken a glass of grape juice and had reassured him that she was feeling better. He hadn't believed her. Only thirty minutes ago, she had showered, yet already her face was developing a crusty coat as her skin fought to do the job of her kidneys. What if she were to suddenly stop breathing? Out of fear of her death, he had stayed away from her, and now he clung to her side hoping to ward it off. He couldn't help feeling a crossroads was approaching, where every turn would lead to a dead end. But he was despairing, as she never did. When she awoke next, if he did not notice definite signs of improvement, he would take Sol up on his offer.

Sol had suggested - surrounding swamp or not - that even if it took them to sunrise, they should search on foot for a phone and get a doctor to Robin. They could even have a helicopter brought in.

Another thing, when she awoke, he would tell her that he wanted her back, one hundred per cent, not just as a phone pal. That meant he would have to give up Harvard in September, and his egotistical image of being a suave Ivy League Intellectual. That was okay; he could get as good an education locally if he applied himself. He hoped that she would have him. And Angie... she deserved someone who really cared for her. Bert's death had somehow made this decision clear.

He was not feeling well. He had fever and chills, on top of cramps that made him glad he wasn't a female. It was probably flu. The water in the house was safe and, besides, Montezuma's Revenge took several days to incubate. Angie had also mentioned feeling sick.

Too bad Robin didn't have their symptoms and they could pretend she merely had a virus.

"How is she?" Shani whispered, quietly entering the room.

Fresh from a shower, her long black hair drying in fine curls, her blue eyes bright in the poor light, his oldest and best friend was beautiful. She wore a loose purple blouse, tight white trousers, and a bandage around her right