Footfall

“We don’t carry it. And, Harry, I’m not sure I want to think you’ve got a copy.”

“Well, you never know Harry couldn’t keep it up, and laughed. All right, but maybe what we’ll need is survival manuals. I thought I’d come in and look around.”

The shelves had been seriously depleted. Harry chose a few and came to the counter. “There was a new book from the Public Health Service, on stretching exercises. Got it in yet?”

“Sure, but we’re out. Others had the same thought you did.” “Ken, you’re actually one of the Enclave group, aren’t you?”

Ken hesitated. “They invited me in. I haven’t moved yet.” And maybe it’s too late, maybe not. Jesus.

“Are you hooked for dinner?”

“I don’t know. Need to make a phone call.” He went to the back room and dialed George’s number. Vicki answered.

“Hi,” Ken said. “Uh-this is Ken Dutton.”

“I know who you are.”

“Yes-uh-Vicki, is there a meeting tonight?”

“Not tonight. Call tomorrow.”

“Vicki, I know damned well there’s a meeting!”

“Call tomorrow. Anything else? Bye, then.’ The phone went dead.

Ken Dutton went back out to the customer area and found Harry. “No. I don’t have anything on tonight. Let’s eat here in the plaza. Saves us worrying about rush hour.”

Jeri Wilson kissed her daughter, and was surprised at how easy it was to hold her smile until Melissa went up to her room. She’s a good-looking ten-year-old, Jeri thought. Going to be pretty when she grows up.

Melissa had Jeri’s long bones and slender frame. Her hair was a bit darker than Jeri’s, and not quite so fine, but her face was well shaped, pretty rather than beautiful.

Jeri waited until she heard the toilet flush, then waited again until the light under Melissa’s door vanished.

She’d sleep now. She’d be exhausted.

So am I. Jeri’s smile faded. It had been such a wonderful day, the nicest for weeks, until she came home to find the mail.

She went to the living room. An expensive breakfront stood there, and she took out a red crystal decanter and a matching crystal glass. We bought this in Venice. We couldn’t really afford the trip, and the glassware was much too expensive. God, that was a beautiful summer.

The sherry came from Fedco, but no one ever noticed the sherry. They were too enchanted with the decanter. She poured herself a glass and sat on the couch. It was impossible to stop the tears now.

Damn you, David Wilson! She took the letter from her apron pocket. It was handwritten, postmarked Cheyenne Wells, Colorado, and it wasn’t signed. She thought the handwriting looked masculine, hut she couldn’t be sure.

“Dear Mrs. Wilson,” it said. “If you’re really serious about keeping your husband, you’d better get out here and do something right away, ’cause he’s got himself a New Cookie.”

Of course he has a New Cookie, Jeri thought. He’s been gone almost two years, and he filed for divorce six months ago. It was inevitable.

Inevitable or not, she didn’t like to think about it. Pictures came to mind: David, nude, stepping out of the shower. Lying with David on the beach at Malibu, late at night long after the beach had closed, both of them buzzed with champagne. They’d been celebrating David’s Ph.D., and they made love three times, and even if the third time had been more effort than consummation it was a wonderful night. After the first time she’d turned to him and said, “I haven’t been taking my pills—”

“I know,” he said.

She liked to think Melissa was conceived that night. Certainly it happened during that wonderful week. Five months later, Jeri quit her job as general science editor for UCLA’s alumni magazine. David’s education was finished, he’d found a great job with Litton Industries, and they could enjoy themselves…

She sipped her sherry, then, convulsively, drained the glass. It was an effort to keep from throwing it on the floor. Who am I so damned mad at?

At myself. I’m a damned fool. She crumpled the letter, then smoothed it out again. Then poured more sherry. No matter how often she wiped her eyes, they filled again.

She’d had three glasses when the phone rang. At first she thought she’d ignore it, but it might be about Melissa. Or it might even be David; he still called sometimes. What if it’s him, and he says he needs me?

“Hello.”

“Jen, this is Vicki.”

“Oh

“You’ve heard the news?” Vicki asked.

How the devil would you know about David — “What news?”

“The alien spaceship.” What?”

“Jeri, where have you been all day? Hibernating?”

“No, Melissa and I drove up to the Angeles Crest. We had a picnic.”

“Then you haven’t seen the news. Jen, the astronomers have discovered an alien spaceship in the solar system. It’s coming to Earth.”

Aliens. Coming to Earth. She heard the words, but they didn’t make any sense. “You’re not putting me on?”

“Jeri, go turn on Channel Four. I’ll call back in half an hour. We have to talk.”

Saturn. They were coming from Saturn, and no one knew how long they’d been there. Jeri remembered a TV monitor at JPL. Three lines twisted into a braid, and David’s grip on her arm was hard enough to hurt.