“Come with me when I go away, then,” he said, “and see if you can get a kick out of that.”
“When?” Blake was eager.
“Oh, I don’t know. September’s a good time. Call it September. We’ll drive somewhere.” He shook his head and laughed again. “I’m getting nutty. How can I dig myself out of this hole? Damned cesspool.” He closed his eyes against the black and white panorama and went to sleep.
The sky was getting red. In a minute there would be a sunrise: Blake tried to concentrate on it. People never saw the sunrise: people ought to look oftener at sunrises. Even one a month would be better than none at all. Some day he would change the system and live at night: he would finish his day with a sunrise and then go to bed immediately.
Like this. Was it going to be red-orange, or gold? The clouds across the sky, on the other side, were beginning to flush near the sun. Where was the sun? Everything was waiting for it. Somewhere a few miles farther east there must be someone looking at it right now. All day there were sunrises somewhere in the world. A few hours ago there had been one in Algeria, and none of the people in the hotel there would have seen it. There would be a few servants coming to work in white robes growing pink in the red light. But here on this rock in New Mexico one person would watch it. Blake Lennard Watches Sunrise. He pulled his feet up and lay down facing east.
Suddenly the sun was there, but the four huddled bodies on the high rock did not move.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They all woke at once, perhaps because a bird screamed as it flew over them. Teddy sat up so swiftly that he almost toppled off the edge. He stared wildly about him, trying to remember. The other three propped themselves up on their arms, with tousled hair, and faces marked by the rock. It was as if they had been carried to another place while they slept; this was a green country with another sun shining down on it, a second cousin to their sun; small and high and cheerful. He had a confused feeling that he must have been drunk. No one spoke: they were all waiting. Then, as if she could not control herself any longer, Gin giggled.
“Gee, we look funny,” she said, and broke the spell. “What time is it?”
No one had a watch. They stood up, groaning and helping each other. One by one, with grim sensible expressions, they disappeared behind a rocky crag. They all used Harvey’s little black comb, and slowly worked up enough concerted impulse to climb down the hill. It was not so easy as it had been to climb up.