“I hadn’t heard that,” Augustine said.

“Tune in the Christian Broadcasting Network. They’re splitting constituencies all across America. Pat Robertson is telling his audience these monsters are God’s final test before the arrival of the new Kingdom of Heaven. He says our DNA is trying to purge itself of all our accumulated sins, to…what was his phrase, Ted?”

The aide said, “Clean up our records before God calls Judgment Day.”

“That was it.”

“We still don’t control the airwaves, Frank,” Augustine said. “I can’t be held responsible…”

“Half a dozen other televangelists say these unborn children are the devil’s spawn,” Shawbeck continued, building up steam. “Born with the mark of Satan, one-eyed and hare-lipped. Some are even saying they have cloven hooves.”

Augustine shook his head sadly.

“They’re your support group now,” Shawbeck said, and waved his arm for the aide to step forward. He struggled to his feet, shoved the crutches into his armpits. “I’m tendering my resignation tomorrow morning. From the Taskforce and from the NIH. I’m burned out. I can’t take any more of this ignorance — my own or anybody else’s. Just thought you should be the first to know. Maybe you can consolidate all the power.”

When Shawbeck was gone, Augustine stood behind his desk, hardly breathing. His knuckles were white and his hands shook. Slowly, he took control of his emotions, forcing himself to breathe deeply and evenly.

“It’s all in the follow-through,” he said to the empty room.

79

Seattle

They moved the last of the boxes out of Mitch’s old apartment in the snow. Kaye insisted on carrying a few small ones, but Mitch and Wendell had done all the heavy hauling in the early morning hours, packing everything into a big orange-and-white U-Haul rental truck.

Kaye climbed into the truck beside Mitch. Wendell drove.

“Good-bye, bachelor days,” Kaye said.

Mitch smiled.

“There’s a tree farm near the house,” Wendell said. “We can pick up a Christmas tree on the way in. Should be terrifically cozy.”

Their new home stood in a patch of low brush and woods near Ebey Slough and the town of Snohomish. Rustic green and white, with a single front-facing gable window and a large screened-in porch, the two-bedroom house lay at the end of a long country road surrounded by pines. They were renting from Wendell’s parents, who had owned the house for thirty-four years.

They were keeping their change of address a secret.

As the men unloaded the truck, Kaye made sandwiches and slipped a six-pack of beer and a few fruit drinks into the freshly scrubbed refrigerator. Inside the bare and clean living room, standing in her socks on the oak floor, Kaye felt at peace.

Wendell carried a lamp into the living room and set it on the kitchen table. Kaye handed him a beer. He took a deep swallow gratefully, his throat bobbing. “Did they tell you?” he asked.

“Who?Tell us what?”

“My folks. I was born here. This was their first house.” He waved his hands around the living room. “I used to carry a microscope outside in the garden.”

“That’s wonderful,” Kaye said.

“This is where I became a scientist,” Wendell said. “A sacred place. May it bless you both!”

Mitch lugged in a chair and a magazine rack. He accepted a Full Sail ale and toasted them, clinking his glass against Kaye’s Snapple.

“Here’s to becoming moles,” he said. “To going underground.”

Maria Konig and half a dozen other friends came four hours later and helped arrange furniture. They were almost done when Eileen Ripper knocked on the door. She carried a lumpy canvas bag. Mitch introduced her, then saw two others waiting on the outside porch.

“I brought some friends,” Eileen said. “Thought we’d celebrate with news of our own.”

Sue Champion and a tall older man with long black hair and a well-disciplined barrel of a belly stepped forward, more than a little ill at ease. The tall man’s eyes glinted white like a wolf’s.

Eileen shook hands with Maria and Wendell. “Mitch, you’ve met Sue. This is her husband, Jack. And this is for the wood stove,” she said to Kaye, dropping the bag by the fireplace. “Scrap maple and cherry. Smells wonderful. What a beautiful house!”

Sue nodded to Mitch and smiled at Kaye. “We’ve never met,” Sue said. Kaye opened and closed her mouth like a fish, at a loss for words, until they both laughed nervously.

They had brought baked ham and steelhead for dinner.

Jack and Mitch circled like wary boys sizing up each other. Sue seemed unconcerned, but Mitch did not know what to say. A little tipsy, he apologized for not having any candles and decided the occasion called for Coleman lanterns.

Wendell switched off all the lights. The living room became a camp tent with long shadows and they ate in the bright center amid the stacked boxes. Sue and Jack conferred for a moment in a corner.

“Sue tells me she likes you both,” Jack said when they returned. “But I’m the suspicious type, and I say you’re all crazy.”

“I won’t disagree,” Mitch said, lifting his beer.

“Sue told me about what you did on the Columbia.”

“That was a long time ago,” Mitch said.

“Be good, now,” Sue warned her husband.

“I just want to know why you did it,” Jack said. “He might have been one of my ancestors.”

“I wanted to know whether he was one of your ancestors,” Mitch said.

“Was he?”

“I think so, yes.”

Jack squinted at the Coleman’s bright hissing light. “The ones you found in the cave in the mountains. They were ancestors to all of us?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Jack shook his head quizzically. “Sue tells me the ancestors can be brought back to their people, whoever their people might be, if we learn their real names. Ghosts can be dangerous. I’m not so sure this is the way to keep them happy.”

“Sue and I have drummed up another agreement,” Eileen said. “We’ll get it right eventually. I’m going to be a special consultant to the tribes. Whenever anyone finds old bones, I’ll be called in to take a look at them. We’ll do quick measurements and take a small sample, and then return them to the tribes. Jack and his friends have put together what they call a Wisdom Rite.”

“Their names lie in their bones,” Jack said. “We tell them we’ll name our children after them.”

“That’s grand,” Mitch said. “I’m pleased. Flabbergasted, but pleased.”

“Everybody thinks Indians are ignorant,” Jack said. “We just care about some different things.”

Mitch leaned across the lantern and held out his hand to Jack. Jack looked up at the ceiling, his teeth working audibly. “This is too new,” he said. But he took Mitch’s extended hand and shook it so firmly they almost knocked the lantern over. For a moment, Kaye thought it might turn into an arm-wrestling contest.

“But I’m telling you,” Jack said when they were done. “You should behave yourself, Mitch Rafelson.”

“I’m out of the bone business for good,” Mitch said.

“Mitch dreams about the people he finds,” Eileen said.

“Really?” Jack was impressed by this. “Do they talk to you?”

“I become them,” Mitch said.

“Oh,” Jack said.

Kaye was fascinated by them all, but in particular by Sue. The woman’s features were more than strong — they were almost masculine — but Kaye thought she had never met anyone more beautiful. Eileen’s relationship with Mitch was so easy and intuitive that Kaye wondered if they might have been lovers once.

“Everybody’s scared,” Sue said. “We have so many SHEVA pregnancies in Kumash. That’s one of the reasons why we’re working with Eileen. The council decided that our ancestors can tell us how to survive these times. You’re carrying Mitch’s baby?” she asked Kaye.