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.She was bundled in a great coat against the chill and wore the common boots that weremuch too large for her feet.A pair of binoculars hung around her neck: he felt closely observed.Herhead was bare, revealing Katrina's great avalanche of fine brown hair; her eyes were the same soft--nowfrightened--delightful shade.She was a small woman, no more than a hundred pounds when free of thebulky boots and coat, and gave every appearance of being quick and alert.She also gave theappearance of being older than Katrina.Chaney looked from one to the other: the two of them, brother and sister, were years beyond thepeople he had left in the past, years beyond their parents.He said at last: "Do you know the date?""No, sir."Hesitation, then: "I think you were waiting for me."Arthur Saltus nodded, and there was the barest hint of affirmation from the woman."My father said you would be here--sometime.He was certain you would come; you were the lastof the three."Surprise: "No one else, after us?""No one."Chaney touched the grave a last time, and their eyes followed his hand.He had one more questionto ask before he would risk getting to his feet."Who lies here?"Arthur Saltus said: "My father."Chaney wanted to cry out: how? when? why? but embarrassment held his tongue, embarrassmentand pain and depression; he bitterly regretted the day he'd accepted Katrina's offer and stepped into thisunhappy position.He climbed to his feet, avoiding sudden moves that could be misinterpreted, and wasthankful he hadn't taken a picture of the grave--thankful he wouldn't have to tell Katrina, or Saltus, orSeabrooke, what he'd found here.He would make no mention of the grave at all.Standing, Chaney searched the area carefully, looking over their heads at the weedy garden, theparking lot, the company street beyond the lot and all of the station open to his eye.He saw no one else.Sharp question: "Are you two alone here?"The woman had jumped at his tone and seemed about to flee, but her brother held his ground."No, sir."A pause, and then: "Where is Katrina?""She is waiting in the place, Mr.Chaney.""Does she know I am here?""Yes, sir.""She knew I would ask about her?""Yes, sir.She thought you would."Chaney said: "I'm going to break a rule.""She thought you would do that, too.""But she didn't object?""She gave us instructions, sir.If you asked, we were to say that she _told_ you where she wouldwait."Chaney nodded his wonder."Yes--she did that.She did that twice." He moved back along thepath by way of the cistern and they carefully retreated before him, still uncertain of him."Did you dothis?""My father and I dug it, Mr.Chaney.We had your book.The descriptions were very clear.""I'd tell Haakon, if I dared."Arthur Saltus stepped aside when they reached the parking lot and allowed Chaney to go ahead ofhim.The woman had darted off to one side and now kept a prudent distance.She continued to stare athim, a stare that might have been rude under other circumstances, and Chaney was very sure she'd seenno other man for too many years.He was equally certain she'd never seen a man like him inside theprotective fence: that was her apprehension.He ignored the rifle resting in the cart.Brian Chaney fitted the keys into the twin locks and swung the heavy door.His two lanterns restedon the top step, and as before a rush of musty air fell out into the waning afternoon sunlight.Chaneypaused awkwardly on the doorsill wondering what to say--wondering how to say goodbye to thesepeople.Only a damned fool would say something flippant or vacuous or inane; only a damned fool wouldutter one of the meaningless cliches of _his_ age; but only a stupid fool would simply walk away fromthem without saying anything.He glanced again at the sky and at the golden fleece about the sun, at the new grass and leavesand then at the aging mound of yellow clay.At length his gaze swung back to the man and woman whowaited on him.He said: "Thank you for trusting me."Saltus nodded."They said you could be trusted."Chaney studied Arthur Saltus and almost saw again the unruly sandy hair and the peculiar set to hiseyes-- the eyes of a man long accustomed to peering against the sun-bright sea.He looked long atKathryn Saltus but could _not_ see the transparent blouse or the delta pants: on her those garmentswould be obscene.Those garments belonged to a world long gone.He searched her face for a momenttoo long, and was falling head over heels when reality brought him up short.Harsh reality: she lived _here_ but he belonged back there.It was folly to entertain even dreamsabout a woman living a hundred years ahead of him.Hurtful reality.His conscience hurt when he closed the door because he had no more to say to them.Chaneyturned away and went down the steps, putting behind him the quiet sun, the chill world of 2000-plus, theunknown survivors beyond the fence who had fled in terror at sight and sound of him, and thehalf-familiar survivors within the fence who were sharp reminders of his own loss.His conscience hurt,but he didn't turn back.The time was near sunset on an unknown day.It was the longest day of his life.SEVENTEENThe briefing room was subtly different from that one he'd first entered weeks or years or centuriesago.He remembered the military policeman who'd escorted him from the gate and then opened thedoor for him; he remembered his first glance into the room--his lukewarm reception, his tardy entrance.He'd found Kathryn van Hise critically eyeing him, assessing him, wondering if he would measure up tosome task ahead; he'd found Major Moresby and Arthur Saltus playing cards, bored, impatientlyawaiting his arrival; he'd found the long steel table positioned under lights in the center of the room--allwaiting on him.He had given his name and started an apology for his tardiness when the first hurtful soundstopped him, chopped him off in mid-sentence and hammered his ears.He had seen them turn togetherto watch the clock: sixty-one seconds.All that only a week or two ago--a century or two ago--beforethe bulky envelopes were opened and a hundred flights of fancy loosed.The long journey from theFlorida beach had brought him twice to this room, but this time the lantern poorly illuminated the place.Katrina was there [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]