64

Arthur drove the car into the driveway of Grant and Danielle’s hillside home in Richmond just before midnight. He was still shaken; the memory of the network’s pain and loss lingered like a bizarre, bitter-sharp taste on the tongue. He sat with hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead at the rough wood garage door, and then turned to Francine.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I think so.” He glanced over the seat at Marty. The boy sprawled on the back seat, eyes closed, his head lolling slightly over the edge, mouth open.

“Thank God he’s asleep,” Francine said. “You gave us both a scare.”

“I gave you a scare?” Arthur asked, his weariness breaking down before a sudden upwelling of anger. “Jesus, if you could have felt what I felt—”

“Please,” Francine said, face deadly grim. “We’re here. There’s Grant now.”

She opened the car door and stepped out. Arthur stayed in the seat, confused, then closed his eyes for a moment, tentatively searching for the network, trying to learn what had happened. There had been little on the radio beyond repeated reports of some unknown disaster in-Seattle; it had been less than an hour.

He half expected the superpowers to stumble into nuclear war; perhaps members of the network were preventing that even now. But he had to go on faith. For the moment, he was cut loose from the circuit of network communications.

Arthur took a murmuring Marty into his arms. Grant showed them to a bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a folding cot. Danielle — now asleep, Grant said — had made up the beds and laid out towels for them, as well as putting a late night snack of fruit and soup on the kitchen counter. Francine tucked Marty into the cot and joined Grant and Arthur in the kitchen.

“Have you heard what happened?” she asked Grant.

“No…” Grant’s shirt and slacks were wrinkled and his silver-gray hair was tousled; he had apparently nodded off on the couch, getting up as he heard their car approach.

“We saw a flash to the north,” Arthur said.

“Arthur thinks it was Seattle,” Francine said. Her look was almost a challenge: Go ahead, tell us you know. Tell us how you know.

Arthur stared at her, dismayed. Then it came to him: she was suddenly amidst family. She did not have to rely completely on him. She could vent a few of her own doubts and tensions; Marty was asleep and wouldn’t hear. He understood this well enough, but it still hurt. On top of the pain he had felt earlier, this small betrayal was almost more than he could stand.

“We heard on the radio,” Arthur said, taking the easy way out. “Something happened in Seattle.”

Francine nodded, her face bloodless, teeth clenched. “’Radio,” she said.

“What, for God’s sake? I have a brother in Seattle,” Grant said.

The airborne sound of Seattle’s death rattled the house windows. Grant glanced warily at the ceiling. Arthur checked his watch and nodded.

“It’s gone,” Arthur told him. “The entire metropolitan area.”

“Jesus Christ!” Grant cried, jumping from his stool. He went to the wall phone at the end of the counter and fumbled at the keypad.

“We didn’t hear that on the radio,” Francine said softly, her shoulders slumping. She stared past her folded hands at the carpet.

“It’s busy. Everything’s tied up,” Grant said. He loped into the den to switch on the television. “When did you hear this?”

“We saw the flash about fifty minutes ago,” Francine said, glancing up guiltily at Arthur. He held out his hand, wriggling his fingers, and she grasped it, covering her face with her other hand. She shuddered, but no tears would come.

The commentator’s voice came to them through Grant’s expensive sound system, resonant and authoritative, but with more than a hint of fear. “ — reports now from Seattle and Charleston, that the two cities have been destroyed by what appear to be nuclear explosions, but there are contradictory reports of no accompanying radiation. We still have no idea what actually happened although it is now clear that at least these two seaboard cities, on the East and West Coasts, have been leveled by unprecedented disaster. The government has issued statements that our nation is not yet in a state of war, which leads some sources to state that the explosions were not caused by nuclear missiles, at least not those of the Soviet Union. Indeed, flashes over the cities of San Francisco and Cleveland have led some to speculate that the destruction of the Earth has begun, and that we are witnessing—”

“Tell him,” Francine said, keeping her voice low. “Tell him. I believe you. Really I do. They need to know.”

Arthur shook his head. She brought her hands over her face again, but her trembling had stopped. “I can’t tell them, and you must not,” Arthur said. “It would only hurt them.”

Danielle appeared in the hallway door, wearing a long silk gown with a chenille robe thrown over it. “What’s happened?” she asked.

Francine embraced her and led her into the den. Arthur regarded the untouched bowls of soup, thinking, Not yet…But it can’t be much longer.

65

A knock on his tent-cabin door awakened Edward at eight o’clock. He glanced at his watch and scrambled into his pants, then opened the door to see Minelli and a plump black-haired woman in black T-shirt and black jeans. Minelli reached out a hand. “Congratulate me,” he said. “I’ve found Inez.”

“Congratulations,” Edward said.

“Inez Espinoza, this is my friend Edward Shaw. He’s into rocks, too. Edward, Inez.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Inez said.

“We met at the dance last night. Pity you weren’t there.”

“I was depressed,” Edward said. “I couldn’t handle company.”

“There’s a story going around about robot insects. Inez says she saw a bunch of them up behind Yosemite Village. What do you think they are?”

“I saw some, too,” Edward said. “Wait a minute. I’ll get dressed and we’ll fix breakfast.”

Over Coleman-stove toast and hard-boiled eggs, Edward told them what he had seen below the Mist Trail. Inez nodded and regarded him with her large brown eyes, obviously content to say little.

“What do you think they are?”

“Hell, if the bastards can make fake aliens, they can turn out robot spiders. They’re surveying the Earth.

Conducting a general assay before they blow it up.”

Inez spontaneously began to weep.

“Hey, let’s not talk about that shit,” Minelli said. “She’s sensitive. Her old man was killed on a Harley on the highway a couple of days ago. She was thrown clear.” Inez sobbed and dabbed at her eyes, revealing a nasty scrape and bruise on her forearm. “She hitched a ride here. She’s a sweetheart.” Minelli hugged her and she hugged him back.

A small, skeletally thin man with a high, square forehead walked past the rock where they breakfasted. He carried a baseball bat almost as big as himself and seemed bemused.

“What’s up, man?” Minelli asked.

“Just heard it on the radio. The aliens nuked Seattle and Charleston and Shanghai last night. I was born in Charleston.” He continued down the path, bat dangling from an unenthused wrist.

Inez hiccuped spasmodically.

“What’re you going to do?” Minelli called after him.

“Going to catch some of those fucking chrome bugs out in the woods and smash them,” the man answered, not stopping. “I want to get my licks in.”

Minelli set down his tin cup of tea and slid down from the rock. Inez took his offered hand and did likewise with surprising grace. “I think it’s time we hiked up to Glacier Point,” Minelli said quietly. “Want to come?”

Edward nodded, then shook his head. “Not yet. I’ll be up there soon.”

“All right. Inez is coming with me. We’ll tent out. Welcome to join us.”

“Thanks.”

The pair walked down the path under the pines to Curry Village.