Greg Bear - The Forge of God

“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.

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.

Edward climbed the stairs into his tent cabin and pulled a topographical map of the valley and regions south from his map folder. Lying on his stomach across the beds, he fingered the Four Mile Trail up to Union Point, and then on to Glacier Point, and compared other vantages.

There were none better and so accessible. Glacier Point offered some facilities. But if things get rocking, won’t it just split off and fall, and take us with it?

Did it matter? What was an hour or so, one way or another?

Edward entered his card number into the pay phone keypad and dialed Stella’s home number in Shoshone. After three rings, Bernice Morgan answered, and told him Stella was at the store, taking inventory. “Life goes on,” she said. “I can transfer you from here.”

After a few clicks and hums, the store phone rang and Stella answered.

“This is Edward,” he said. “I’ve been wondering what you’re up to.”

“The usual,” Stella answered. “Where are you now?”

“Oh, I’m in Yosemite. Settled in. Waiting.”

“Is it what you thought it would be?”

“Better, actually. It’s beautiful. There aren’t very many people.”

“What did I tell you?”

“You’ve heard about Seattle and Charleston?”

“Of course.”

Edward detected a hint of resolve in her voice. “Still planning on staying in Shoshone?”

“I’m a homebody,” Stella said. “We heard from my sister, though. She’s coming home from Zimbabwe. We’re picking her up in Las Vegas the day after tomorrow. You’re welcome to join us…”

He surveyed the riverbanks and trees and meadows beyond the clutch of pay phones. This feels right. This is where I belong. “I was hoping I could convince you to come here. With your mother.”

“I’m glad you asked, but…”

“I know. You’re home. So am I.”

“We’re a stubborn pair, aren’t we?”

“Minelli is here. I don’t know where Reslaw is. Minelli’s found a girlfriend.”

“Good for him. How about you?”

Edward chuckled. “I’m just too damned choosy,” he said.

“Don’t be. You know…” Stella stopped, and there was silence over the line for several seconds. “Well, maybe you know.”

“If we could have more time,” Edward said.

“Is the deal still on?” she asked.

“Deal?”

“If this all turns out to be a false alarm.”

“We still have a deal.”

“I’ll be thinking about you,” Stella said. “Don’t forget.”

What would life with Stella be like? She was tough-minded, intelligent, and more than a touch willful; they might not get along, and then again they might.

Both of them knew they would not have the time to find out. “I won’t forget,” he said.

In the Curry Village general store, he stocked up on dried soups and various pouches of gourmet camp food. The supplies were running out. “Trucks haven’t come in here for two days,” the young woman clerk said. “We keep calling, they keep saying they’re coming. But nobody’s doing much now. Just sitting back and waiting. Damned morbid, if you ask me.”

He added a pair of dark sunglasses and paid for the supplies with the last of his cash. All he had now were credit cards and a few traveler’s checks. No matter.

He had hoisted the plastic bag and was about to leave when he saw the blond woman at the back of the store, picking through a bin of half-rotten apples. Taking a concealed deep breath, Edward replaced his bag on the counter, motioned with his finger to the clerk that he would be back, and walked to the rear.

“Find your husband?” he asked. The woman glanced at him, smiled sadly, and shook her head.

“No such bad luck,” she said. She held up a particularly bruised apple and inspected it ruefully. “I’m a fruito-phile, and look what they offer.”

“I have some pretty good apples in my…Back at the cabin. I’ll be leaving for Glacier Point soon. You’re welcome to them. Too heavy to carry more than one or two on a hike.”

“That’s very kind,” she said. She dropped the apple into the bin and held out her hand. Slender, cool, strong fingers; he shook the hand with moderate firmness. “My name is Betsy,” she said, “and my maiden name is Sothern.”

“I’m Edward Shaw.” He decided to go for broke. “I’m not with anybody.”