Footfall

“Carla,” a voice spoke from behind her.

“Yes, Juana?”

“What is happening?” The noise had brought her sister outside. Juana Morgan held a small transistor radio that poured out static as she frantically turned the tuning knob this way and that.

For once you will not look disapprovingly at me in my housecoat in mid-afternoon. “Vapor trails, I think, Perhaps the professor will know.”

“He went to town to buy newspapers.” Juana paused. “And more gin.”

“Ah.” Carlotta shrugged, and glanced significantly at Lucy. “They’re not coming here,” she said. “Miles away. Not to Dighton, either.”

“Are you sure?” Juana demanded.

“Yes.” How the hell can I be sure? And what could we do about it if they were coming here, or to Dighton? It’s ten miles to Dighton, and David has the only damned car—

“David didn’t think they’d come, either,” Juana said. “But his

National Guard colonel wanted to mobilize. Maybe that’s where David is! With the Guard.”

“Could be.” What good is that? Bunch of old men with worn out equipment… Wes always voted for bigger appropriations for the Guard, but nobody was really pushing it.

“Lucy, perhaps it would be well to get out the candles and the storm lanterns,” Juana said.

“Si.” Lucy shuffled away, still glancing up at the sky and looking away in fear.

“Give her something to do and she bears up well,” Carlotta said. She stared at the open work of the tabletop. “I wish I had something to do.”

“So do I.”

Carlotta nodded. “Yeah. I wouldn’t approve of me as a houseguest either.”

“It’s as much your house as mine,” Juana said. “I haven’t forgotten how much you and Wes loaned us.” She sat across from Carlotta. “Hell, get smashed every night if that’s what it takes. You really loved the guy, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Still do.”

“Sorry—”

“You don’t know he’s dead.”

“No.” There was another peal of thunder. Juana shuddered. “I wish it had happened to me.”

Carlotta frowned.

“I mean, that it had been David up there. Instead of Wes. Damn. That sounds horrible. I mean-well, you’re really in love with Wes. It’s breaking you up. I’d miss David; we’re very comfortable together, but-well, I wouldn’t be like you. I hate to see you like this, Carla. You were always the strong one—”

“Yeah. I sure look it, don’t I. Oh damn, Juana, damn, damn, damn, what am I going to do?”

Juana looked up at the dot-filled skies and shuddered.

The motorcycle was intact. Harry looked around furtively. No sign of the enemy. He lifted the motorcycle and stood it on its stand.

The saddlebags with his gear had vanished. They’d taken them along with Jeri and Melissa—

God damn the bastards! Harry cursed steadily until he had control of himself. Then he felt ashamed. Cursing wouldn’t change the situation. He’d lost two women he was supposed to protect. The fact that he couldn’t have done anything about it didn’t help much.

He felt a lump in his pocket. The little .25 Beretta was still there. They hadn’t bothered to search him. He thought about that for a moment, then began to search the wheat field. Sure enough, a blue-gray object was just visible in the wheat. The .45 automatic, with dirt in the barrel. One of the invaders must have flung it aside.

Why the saddlebags, then? Clothes? Jeri’s and Melissa’s clothing. Which means they’ll be keeping the girls. Why take them and not me? But there was no answer to that.

The motorcycle started easily enough. It hadn’t been damaged at all. He heard noises ahead. The Invaders were still in Logan . Harry cleaned out the barrel while he felt something stir in his guts, but then he shook his head. It would be pointless. The Invaders wore body armor. His pistol hadn’t done him any good at all when there were only a few of them. Charging into Logan to rescue Jeri wouldn’t do Jeri any good. She might not even be there any longer.

He tried to remember the map. That part of Kansas was laid out in a grid, roads at section and range boundaries, other roads parallel to them. Few diagonal roads. Farmhouses at regular intervals. Dirt tracks crossed the wheat fields. Those tended to parallel the main roads, too, but they led to farmhouses, not towns.

Logan was several miles ahead Harry gambled that there’d be a farm access mad leading north before he came into sight of the Invaders. He put the pistol into his kidney belt where he could reach it easily, and started off east.

He saw the smoke long before he reached the ruined farmhouse. He came up slowly, ready to leap off the motorcycle and run into the wheat. He stopped several times to listen, but there was nothing to hear. The dirt road led through the wheat fields to the farmhouse. He could go back the way he’d come; or go on. He went on.

The house itself was a wreck, roof sagging, doors torn from their hinges, but it hadn’t burned. The barn was burned to ashes. The bodies of a man and two dogs lay in the dusty yard between the house and the barn. A shotgun lay across the man’s chest.

Another dog whimpered from under the wreckage of the farmhouse.