by Will Hubbell
19
JOHN GREIGHTON SHIFTED UNEASILY ON THE BENCH AS
he watched the island dwindle below them. He had a fear of heights and the transparent craft around him offered no sense of security. The pulsating red symbols on the strange control panel made him nervous also. They reminded him of warning lights.
"Was it wise to leave Joe behind?" he asked Green. "Wouldn't it be safer with a pilot?"
"These probes run a predetermined course. Once Joe set the new destination, he was useless. Worse than useless, he was someone who could talk."
Greighton gripped the edge of the bench tightly. "Are you sure this is right?"
"A little late for that, isn't it?" said Green caustically. "What do you want? To be down there with your fiancee? With your daughter?"
"I was only asking if this was the right move. That kid might be fooling us."
"Oh, he was sincere, all right. Pistols do that to people. If he was lying, he would have cracked."
"How can you be sure?"
"I have some experience in these matters."
Green's words gave Greighton a chill. "So you weren't bluffing?"
"You're either with me or against me. He could have spo-ken to me first. Instead, he tried to work behind my back. I won't tolerate that. If your daughter hadn't interfered, he'd be gut-shot."
"She's always been willful, a real handful. My ex's fault."
"She'll be more docile after she's waited for you on that island."
"I'm not so sure," said Greighton.
"The sooner your research department solves our technical problems, the sooner you'll find out."
"Won't a rescue attempt be risky?" asked Greighton.
"Naturally."
"Then we should postpone any attempt until we're estab-lished in the eighteenth century." Green looked at his companion with new respect. "I see your point."
"I got where I am by knowing my priorities. It won't mat-ter to them when we set out to pick them up."
"That's true," said Green. More true than you know.
The probe continued to ascend until the island was but a dot in the wide expanse of sea. They were level with the mountaintops to the west when they stopped climbing. Un-like the other time machine, this craft did not halt in mid air. Instead, it began to travel south, following the coastline. Green was disturbed by this development, yet he was cer-tain Joe had not played him false. Hadn't he expected to be sitting beside him? Another change in plans, he thought. So far, the changes had not worked out badly. He still had a time machine and Greighton was firmly in his grasp. All the witnesses on the island were eliminated without any effort on his part. Only Ann Smythe and her assistant were left to be dealt with. To top it off, he doubted that Greighton would be overly upset when he discovered that a rescue of his daughter and fianc6e was impossible. Perhaps he already knew. Green watched the coastline sliding beneath him and relaxed. It's only a slight delay, he reflected. Fortune's been running in my favor.
CON STRUGGLED UP the path to the plane, laden with a bag filled with bottles of mineral water. It was a heavy and cumbersome load. When it's gone, we'll be drinking from puddles. She had been having thoughts like that with each bundle she hurried to the plane. So many things would be the last of their kind, from pretty clothes to pastry. She was already beginning to miss them. All the while, James's question echoed in her mind— Can you really conceive of what you're fleeing to? Each regret was a bleak hint.
Rick was running down the path in the opposite direc-tion. He slowed only momentarily to call, "Stay at the plane. I'm getting the last load."
Con turned to watch him speed away. "Okay," she said weakly. He was all hustle now, shouting orders and run-ning frantically. She understood why, but she still felt abandoned. Her thoughts returned to that moment on the beach, when he had held her and kissed her. Though she knew it was absurd, the idea of embracing by the sea as the world ended seemed wondrously romantic. Standing alone on the path, Con feared Rick's adoring look might never return, that it would be worn from his face by the hardships ahead, and her only moment of love was al-ready past.
Con moved slowly toward the plane. When she reached it, she heaved her burden atop the jumbled heap in the rear. A bag toppled from the pile and a cake, snatched half-baked from the oven, fell to the floor. Con picked up the cake pan. It was still warm. She set it back in the bag and looked at the wet batter spilled at her feet. Its sweet aroma filled the plane, and she felt the pangs of hunger. How can I be hungry at a time like this? Yet she was. She squatted and scooped the batter from the floor with her hands. This is the last cake, she thought, as she licked her fingers clean. When she was finished, she col-lapsed in a seat and began to weep, convinced her descent into savagery had already begun. RICK AND JOE lugged the heavy camp stove up the path to the plane. Although the day was still cool, and a breeze blew in from the sea, they were both drenched in sweat. They moved as fast as their exhaustion would allow.
"Are you sure this is worth bringing?" asked Joe. "We're going to run out of propane."
"We'll find some use for it," said Rick.
"Yeah," said Joe. "Set it over a campfire and pretend we're still civilized."
"Look, Joe," said Rick crossly. "This is our only chance to supply ourselves. There's no coming back."
"That doesn't mean we should drag off everything we can lay our hands on. This extra weight will slow us down."
"So what?" countered Rick. "You said that plane could cruise forever."
"What about the dark?" answered Joe. "You said it will get dark."
"What does that have to do with it?"
"Those solar panels won't be much good then."
"Oh, great!" said Rick. He suddenly let go of the stove. As Rick's end fell, the stove wrenched free from Joe's grip and crashed on the ground, barely missing his feet.
"What the hell!" shouted Joe.
"Why didn't you mention the panels earlier?"
"I thought it was obvious," answered Joe. "Maybe if you stopped running around shouting orders and thought for a second .. ."
"We carried this thing halfway to the plane! You should've said something before."
"Well, I'm saying it now," said Joe. He shook his head. "You've got to get a grip, man." Joe and Rick glared at each other over the stove. Joe was the first to make peace. "Neither of us is thinking clearly. Who can blame us? The world doesn't end every day."
"It's not going to end," said Rick irritably. "That's the whole point of leaving here."
"Then let's leave," said Joe. "Are we taking this stove, or not?"
"Leave it," said Rick.
"You sure?"
"Hell, Joe, I'm not sure of anything," said Rick. "Look, I'm sorry I blew up."
"Forget it," replied Joe.
Mindful that every minute counted, they broke into a tired, shambling jog to the plane. They arrived to find
Con in her seat rubbing her red eyes, trying to pretend she hadn't been crying.
"Are we going?" Con asked.
"Yeah," answered Rick.
Joe sat in the pilot's seat and started the engines. The seats grabbed their occupants as the plane began to rise in the air. Once they were aloft, Rick explained to Joe how to read the numerals on the countdown clock.
"Thirty-one minutes!" said Joe. "That's all we got?"
"You have to multiply that by 1.4 to turn it into our time," said Rick. Joe did the math quickly in his head. "Oh, forty-three minutes. That's loads more time." He extended the wings of the plane, then took it into a steep climb. "Okay, Rick, where we going?"
"Eventually, we'll want to go to the southern hemi-sphere, but we can't head that direction now. That would take us toward the impact site. We need to be someplace safe when this thing hits."
"Could you be a little more specific?" asked Joe.
"We should be on the ground, for starters."
"I figured that much out," said Joe sarcastically.
"Head north and inland. When the tsunami
comes we'll want to be away from the coast and on high ground," said Rick.
"Anything else?" asked Joe.
"There'll be an earthquake, so we should stay clear of steep terrain," said Rick. "Afterward, the heat and the falling meteors will start forest fires. I guess the ideal place would be upland, away from the forests, but not too close to the mountains. It should be near water, a small river would be best." Joe activated the holographic map and studied it. "I wish Sam had shown me how to figure airtimes," he said. "Seat-of-the-pants was fine for touring, but now . . ." He stared at the map, trying to remember how long it took them to reach past destinations. He pressed another but-ton, and a map appeared in front of Rick's seat. "I've indicated a possible landing site," he told Rick. "What do you think?" Rick looked at the ethereal miniature landscape that floated before him. A red dot flashed in one of the shal-low valleys between the foothills of the mountain range. A tiny squiggling blue line ran through it.
"Nothing far-ther north?" he asked
"You can look for yourself," replied Joe. "That's one place I'm sure we can reach." Rick chose not to second-guess Joe's judgment. "How far from the coast do you think it is?" he asked Joe.
"It's hard to say," Joe replied. "Seventy-five . . . maybe a hundred miles."
"I guess there's no way to tell how wooded it is."
"Not until we get there."
Rick sighed deeply. It wasn't much information on which to base such an important decision. "It looks okay. Let's hope it is."
Joe locked the destination in, and the map disappeared from in front of Rick. There was a slight sense of accel-eration, but the sea below still seemed to slide beneath them at a leisurely pace.
"Is this as fast as it goes?" asked Con.
"I'm afraid so," replied Joe.
Con had been sitting in withdrawn silence. When she spoke up, Rick guiltily realized he had totally ignored her. "You all right?" he asked.
"All right?" she said fiercely. "Why wouldn't I be all right? Daddy's deserted me, the world's about to be smashed, and I'm here like someone's forgotten laun-dry!"
"Con . . ."
"Thanks for asking," she said caustically, then turned away to stare at the landscape below. Rick looked at the sulking girl next to him. It seemed strange that so shortly ago they had been kissing on the beach, preparing to die in one another's arms. That mo-ment seemed easy and natural. Now, he was at a loss for what to do or say. It was especially hard with Joe close by, witnessing it all. He tentatively reached out to touch Con's hand, but she moved it away.
With a deep sigh, Rick abandoned his attempt to mol-lify Con. Instead, he turned his attention to the landscape below. They had just reached the coast and were flying over cypresses. Rick tried to memorize the sight of trees bathed in sunlight. It might be the last time he saw either. JOHN GREIGHTON'S DISCOMFORT from being in a trans-parent aircraft gradually lessened as his annoyance grew. The flight had lasted far too long. The mountains and the inland sea had been left miles behind as they sped south-ward at breathtaking speed. They had traveled over water in a straight line, but, from their high altitude, a coastline was always visible to the west. Now the landform in the distance was a broad peninsula, and Greighton could see a sliver of ocean on the far side. Finally, after almost two hours of travel, the time machine slowed to a stop and hung suspended in the air. "It's about time!" he said.
Green did not answer. He had been strangely silent through most of their journey. Greighton turned toward his companion and noticed for the first time that Green was staring almost straight up. He had a dumbstruck ex-pression, and Greighton gazed upward to see what he was watching. There was a different moon in the blue sky. It was pocked with craters like the old one, but it was not round. Its irregular shape seemed to change as he watched. Greighton realized that it was slowly tumbling in space. That accounted for some of the object's changes, but not all of them. It was steadily growing larger. Soon it was bigger than the old moon and brighter, too.
"That kid was telling the truth," said Greighton. "You had no idea about this, did you?" Green didn't answer.
A chill passed through Greighton. It was physical as well as emotional—the cabin was growing cold. His breath condensed when he exhaled, and frost began to form on the clear wall in front on him.
"Pete, can't you do something? We should go!"
Green remained dumb. Greighton grabbed him and shook him violently. "Goddamn it, Pete! Listen to me! We've got to go!"
Green looked at him with frightened eyes before glanc-ing at the control panel. "Didn't you listen?" he said. "I can't make it work." The despair in Green's voice terri-fied Greighton. Green returned his attention to the meteor above, while Greighton examined the panel, trying to fig-ure it out. He soon gave up. It was hopeless; nothing written beneath the controls made the slightest sense. The flashing red symbols seemed to taunt him in their ur-gency. They were the only things on the panel that were remotely comprehensible. They looked like an almost complete row of zeroes.
FOLLOWING THE RIVER upland, Joe was watching iden-tical numbers. "We have about five minutes to find a landing site." He scanned the mile-wide valley beneath them. Nestled among rolling foothills, it was filled with lushly green, but scrubby, vegetation. A shallow river, scarcely larger than a broad creek, meandered across its floor. The only sizable trees were clustered near the riv-erbank.
"I wish the ground was more open," said Rick.
"This is the best we've found so far," said Joe. "Be-sides, it all looks pretty green."
"It's going to dry out real fast," said Rick. "But I guess we don't have much of a choice."
"No we don't," said Joe.
"Settle down close to the river in the most open spot you can find." Joe banked the plane and brought it to a hover over a slight rise about thirty yards from the river's bank. The plane's long silver wings withdrew into the tips of the black stubby ones. Then the aircraft descended vertically until it rested on the ground. Fern fronds swallowed the lower half of the plane. Joe shut off the engines. Every-thing was peaceful. The only sounds were the soft rustle of leaves, an occasional birdcall, and the music of water rippling over stones.
"What do we do now?" asked Con.
"Wait," said Rick. "Wait and pray."
JAMES NEVILLE FELT drawn to the sea. It reminded him of the plains of Africa. Although it was different from his boyhood home in every physical aspect, it felt the same. It made him aware of his insignificance. Practicing a profession where cold food or warm wine assumed the proportions of disaster, this perspective gave him com-fort. In the end, nothing mattered. A man's dust was equally at home on the savanna or at the seashore.
PETER GREEN SCRAPED the frost from the cabin wall with his fingernails. It was so cold in the time machine, his fingers stung as if they had been struck by a hammer. It didn't matter. Despite his horror, he had to see. The meteor was so close that he could make out its rough and pocked surface. It seemed very bright and very near. Al-though it was no longer directly overhead, Green knew it would hit close by.
The surface of the meteor glowed red as it entered the atmosphere. The red intensified and became orange, then yellow, then white. While the transition took only sec-onds, Green's racing mind perceived it in slow motion. He had time to experience it all. He saw the ocean lit as if by a spotlight. He saw a glowing mountain of rock, taller than Mount Everest, fill the horizon. He saw a flash of brilliant light as meteor struck the earth and velocity and mass converted into the energy of millions of hydro-gen bombs. He saw the frost on the time machine in-stantly vaporized as light of excruciating intensity flooded in. Then Peter Green saw nothing but darkness.
John Greighton saw the light though closed eyelids and the hands that covered his face. He could see the shadow of his finger bones while his hands blistered. He was still covering his face when the time machine jerked violently, as if struck by a giant sledgehammer, and was sent spin-ning through the air. He smashed his head against a wall and blacked out.
"It looks exactly like Hell," said Greighton in an awed, frightened voice.
"Tell me what you see," begged Green.
"There's a hole, a big round hole where the ocean used to be."
"How big?"
"It's huge! I can't see the bottom or the other side. It's gotta be over a hundred miles across and it's red-hot. But that's not all—everything's on fire! The land... the whole damn sky. It's Hell. That's what it is—Hell."
"Goddamn Joe!" cursed Green. "I'll kill him! I'll kill him!"
"No need. He's dead," said Greighton. "They're all dead." As Greighton spoke, the crater's sides collapsed in-ward, enlarging its diameter as the ocean, pushed aside by the impact's blast, flowed back to pour over the cra-ter's lip. Huge jets of steam rose up, obscuring every-thing except the glow of flames. The cabin was hotter than a sauna, but something was working hard to cool it down. Greighton turned his blistered face toward a draft of cool air and saw movement. The strange, immaterial cylinder in the time machine's central column was be-ginning to change. Thin incorporeal tendrils shot beyond the column, altering everything they touched.
"Pete!" shouted Greighton. "The time machine! It's starting to work!"
"Thank God!" said Green.
"We made it!" shouted Greighton joyously. "We're saved!" 20
JAMES STOOD ON THE BEACH WATCHING WHAT SEEMED
to be a second sunrise to the south. The illusion was spoiled when the rising "sun" began to flatten and spread. Racing across the sky, like a rapidly approaching storm, came a glowing wall of flame. Habit born from a lifetime of caring for others made James think of Sara and Pandit. Despite his intention to die alone, with that moment approaching, he found he could not forsake his guest and his staff. Racing back to the guest quarters, he found Sara and Pan-dit in the dining pavilion, drinking champagne. As strange as it seemed, Sara had changed her outfit and was wearing a flimsy pleated dress. Perhaps, thought James sadly, she dressed for Greighton's return.