Kevin Anderson - Ill Wind

“Nice touch, don’t you think?” Daphne Harris said, giving Iris a look that made it apparent she had been behind it.

A thousand points of light, Iris thought.

Civilization might come to an end, but rock and roll would never die.

In the aftermath of the desert battle, Bayclock’s expedition force broke into a confusion of smaller groups with different agendas.

Many of the soldiers and camp followers gathered to make preparations for the long trip back north to Albuquerque, this time without the general’s martial law. The consensus seemed to be that Mayor Reinski would be able to hold things together even without a reign of terror.

In the following days, others teamed up with some of the Alamogordo ranchers and dispersed, deciding to stay near the solar-power farm in the hope of eventually turning it into a bona fide settlement, an Atlantis out in the sparkling gypsum sands. Given the extra manpower, Spencer Lockwood told them they could lay new power lines and dig wells to the aquifer.

With Rita Fellenstein riding beside him, Bobby Carron fetched back the wagon and the ten precious solar-power satellites he had hidden in an arroyo. Spencer lightly touched the metal shells resting in the wagon bed, blinking back tears, as if he’d found the Holy Grail.

Already, Gilbert Hertoya limped among the remnants of Bayclock’s army, talking to some of the enthusiastic Air Force troops about taking a military contingent back to the Jet Propulsion Laboratory for the rest of the satellites. Some of the soldiers, anxious to atone for their forced attack against the scientists, were willing to go without delay. Armed with functional rifles, the new military escort would provide a much safer expedition than Todd’s crazy quest.

Ten more smallsats remained in Pasadena, and the parts for more were readily available. Someday, there might be enough to complete the orbital ring for uninterrupted electrical power from the antenna farm. Spencer was sure he could convince his old mentor, Dr. Seth Mansfield, to accompany the second mission back to White Sands.

Meanwhile, Todd Severyn felt at a loss, wandering among the blockhouse trailers and reluctantly relaxing. He felt the inner depression of having successfully completed a major goal and discovering that he had no idea what to do next.

Sitting in the noon shade, he watched Heather and Spencer chatting, walking to the aluminum water barrel. Spencer poured a cup for her; she drank most of it and, when he bent over to fill a cup for himself, she playfully trickled the rest down his back. Startled, Spencer dropped his cup and sputtered.

Just watching them together, Todd could see Heather had fallen for Spencer, though he didn’t know if they realized it themselves yet. He remembered when Heather had offered herself to him out by the stream in the hills. But Heather had made the offer out of desperation; and the memory of that one time was irrevocably stained with blood and violence. He and she could not look at each other without being haunted by the ghosts of Casey Jones and Henrietta Soo.

“Hey, Todd!” Gilbert Hertoya came around the corner of the blockhouse. “I want to talk to you about something.”

By the water barrel Heather looked up, suddenly aware that Todd had been watching. She flushed, then turned away to follow Spencer, who knew nothing about what had happened between her and Todd.

He cocked back his cowboy hat and looked up at the short, peppery-haired scientist who stood propped on a wooden crutch. “What do you want, Gilbert?”

Hertoya put one hand on his hip, covering a big leather belt that one of the ranchers had given him. “We’re going to go back to California in a few months to pick up the rest of the satellites, and I wanted you to come along. This time we’ll be armed, with plenty of help. What do you say?”

Todd looked west to the dim line of mountains. He had considered going along—it would be another major effort, an important quest, something to keep him busy. It would extinguish the restless indecision that had been bothering him.

But he slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve got to get going.” He sighed, then tried to put his reasons into words that made sense to himself. “I’m going to try saving the world in little ways from now on, not by meeting it head on.”

Hertoya scratched his head. His grizzled face plainly showed his disappointment. “What does that mean?”

Todd tipped back his cowboy hat. “I think I’m going to go back to the Altamont, to stay this time. I made a promise. And it’s the closest thing I have to home.”

Grateful for his help, Spencer gave Todd his pick of the horses for his journey back. Todd pondered the choices from the Alamogordo ranchers and the Air Force troops; finally, somewhat uneasily, he selected Bayclock’s black gelding.

He saddled up, took two of the working rifles and some ammunition, and as many supplies as he could cram into the saddle bags. The ride would be long and arduous, at least a month or so, but he didn’t care how long it took him—just the fact that he was returning made it worthwhile.

Spencer and Heather, Gilbert Hertoya, Juan Romero, Bobby Carron, and Rita Fellenstein watched him as he departed. He waved back at them, saying nothing special to Heather, then turned and guided the gelding westward, once again riding off in the direction of the sunset….

Over the following weeks, he rode across New Mexico and Arizona, stopping again at the ranch of the dead diabetic man. Todd took an extra few hours straightening up the house. He got a good night’s sleep, replenished his supplies, then set off again.

He had nothing to do but think as he sat astride the horse throughout the heat of the day and into the cooling evening.

Part of him wished he had never left Iris, but he also knew that wouldn’t have made him happy. If he had not gone to deliver the smallsats to White Sands, if he had not made some sort of tangible difference, Todd would never have been able to settle down for the rest of his life. Iris had reached a point where she wanted to put down roots, but Todd hadn’t been ready for that; he’d spurned her offer to share her bed. He couldn’t calmly accept the fate of the world without trying to make his mark. And he had succeeded.

But Todd didn’t need to keep seeking bigger dragons to slay, wilder gooses to chase. He’d had enough.

Would Iris have him back? He had left her without saying goodbye. She had no reason even to think he might return, despite the message he had transmitted from JPL. Had she waited for him? She was so intelligent, and so beautiful… someone else had probably claimed Iris the moment his bootprints faded from the dry grass in the Altamont hills.

Then Todd forced a bittersweet grin. Iris Shikozu did not allow herself to be claimed! She might have changed her mind, gone with somebody else because of her own decision—but she would not have been wooed away by a sweet talker. No way!

He passed into California and headed north, following abandoned highways and the line of the mountains. He came upon a former dude ranch in the Sierra Nevada where a tall man named Carlos Bettario had established thriving, comfortable quarters.

Bettario’s group of workers had managed to keep themselves supplied with cut firewood, fresh fish and game, as well as meat from a herd of beef cattle. They powered their equipment and lights with electricity generated by water wheels turning in a hydroelectric plant on a nearby dam. One of Bettario’s men, a grizzled old man named Dick Morgret, showed Todd the wild horses up in the mountains and how they had already begun to barter with people living not too far away.