“Not most nights, anyway.” They laugh. “Hey, did you know he’s seeing a woman who teaches across the hall from us?”

“Good for him. Beats suffering with Virginia.”

“No lie.… I wonder what ever happened with Sheila. I liked her.”

“Me too. But Jim is…”

“An idiot?”

“Ah, hahahahaha. No, no, you know what I mean. Anyway, maybe with this teacher.”

“Yeah.”

After dark the island gets more active. As they eat more sandwiches they hear roars, clanking, grinding, the soft feathery whirr of combat helicopters. All without a single light anywhere, except for one red on-and-off to mark the high point of the island. Once or twice Tash spots the bulk of a helicopter against the stars. Then swuBAM, BOOM, and the island is momentarily lit by a ball of orange fire blackened with the dirt it’s thrown up. Both of them jump convulsively. “Damn!”

Tash laughs. “Let’s hope none of those things’ heat-seeking targeters lock on to us.”

“Tash, don’t say that!”

“They’re like clotheslines, tied from firing platform down to the target, which is located by its heat. Infrared system. Then you clip a bomb on the clothesline, and down it slides.”

The island elaborates: whooshBOOM.

“Lucky we don’t have any heat here.”

“Just us.”

“Well hey! Maybe we ought to go in the cabins?”

“Nah. These are the best fireworks we’ll ever see, unless they draft us. Every burst probably costs a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Man, that’s a lot of money!”

“No lie.”

The battle exercises go on for an hour, until their ears begin to hurt. When it ends Sandy retires again. “Wake me this time.”

Tashi does, at 3:00 A.M. They appear to be at the same heading off the island. All is dark and calm, there’s hardly a breeze. Up and down on a deep groundswell. Salt air fills Sandy to the brim; he’s suddenly happy.

Tash is in no hurry to retire. “Do you ever think about leaving OC?” he asks.

“Ah, yes, I suppose so. Sometimes.” Actually it has never occurred to Sandy; he never has time to think about that kind of thing. “Santa Cruz, maybe.”

“That’s just OC north.”

“What isn’t?”

“I was thinking of Alaska.”

“Wow. I don’t know, man. Those winters. The people I’ve talked to from up there say it’s a manic-depressive life, manic in the summer and depressed in the winters, with the winters twice as long. Doesn’t sound like such a deal to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’d be a challenge. And it’ll always stay empty, because of those winters. And it means I could get out into the real world every day, you know?”