Free Hamilton, Donald - Novel 01 by Date, Darkness (v1.1)

asked. "It's early."
          She glanced at him. "All right,"
she said after a moment, and they turned away from the hotel and walked slowly
past the darkened store fronts of the small business district.
          He said suddenly, "Oh, you mean the
newsreel."
          She nodded. "With
all the other people who are starving, to give them food!"
          "Well, you can't let them
starve," he said.
          "Why not?"
          He glanced at her quickly, a little
irritated. "Don't be silly," he said.
          Her small insistent voice said, "It's
not silly. Maybe it's not practical to kill them all, but you don't have to
give them food that other people ..."
          "Don't be so bloodthirsty," he
said, laughing uncomfortably. "After all, the war's over. You can't let
people starve."
          "They did."
          "They also beat up Jews and tortured
people. Do we have to do that, too ""
          "No, but..."
          They had stopped, facing each other, in
front of a weather-beaten shopfront displaying a few
dusty automobile accessories and one large tire. Suddenly she laughed.
          "I'm sorry," she said. "I
liked the movie."
          They went on, out of the business
district, and he walked beside her, not touching her, a little resentful at the
way she had changed the subject, as if it were something he were not quite
bright enough to discuss.
          "Listen ..." he said presently.
          "Don't let's talk about it," she
said, smiling at him. "We wouldn't agree. We wouldn't ever agree, so
there's no use talking about it, is there?" She touched his arm to make
him look at her and, after a moment, curled her fingers about it. "These
sidewalks are awful," she said.
          They walked under the bare trees between
the white-painted frame houses in the darkness, and then the houses stopped and
they came around the side of a great blind building, like a barn, and saw the
water dark before them.
          "God, what a stink," Branch
said, and he looked at the warehouse and read the faded letters in the
darkness: Queen's Harbor Fertilizer Co.
          "What is it?" the girl asked,
sniffing.
          He told her. "Let's get to windward
of it," he said, and they walked quickly across the cinders of the wharf
to where a long pier jutted out into the river. At the end of it they stopped,
and Branch, sniffing, laughed. "That's the trouble with water, there's
always something that smells." He pointed down at the motorboat tied to
the pier below them. "Fish or oysters. Can you
stand it?"
          "I don't mind it," she said.
          She bent down to test the rough boards of
the pier, and sat down, unbuttoning her jacket, her legs dangling over the
moored boat. He sat down beside her. She moved a little, uneasily, and giggled.
"Splinters," she said, feeling of herself.
          "Want me to put my coat ... ?"
          "No, it's all right."
          In front of them the water stretched
unbroken and hardly rippled in the darkness to the mouth of the river. There
were a few lights on the far shore and to the right was the wharf and the warehouse; and over the end of the wharf showed the masts of
the oyster boats tied up in the cove beyond. The water splashed gently at the
pilings below them, rocking the boat at their feet.
          Constance Bellamann said abruptly, "I've never been in one.
          "A boat?"
          She nodded.
          He said, "What did you do, come over
by plane?"
          "No, but ..." She broke off
sharply and bit at her lip. "You tricked me! How did you know?"
          "She said she-"
          "Oh," Constance Bellamann said. "Well, I meant a little one. Like
that."
          "That's not so small," he said.
"It's close to thirty-five feet."
          "Do you like them?" she asked.
Then she laughed. " that's a silly question.
You're in the Navy."
          He grinned in the darkness. "Well, it
doesn't always follow,