thick, black, oily smoke. He couldnât see the truck or trailer, only flames. He gaped at them in shock, all feeling drained from him.
Then, unexpectedly, emotion came. Not dread, at first, and not regret; not the nausea that followed soon. It was a primeval tumult in his mind: the cry of some ancestral beast above the body of its vanquished foe.
THIRD FROM THE SUN
HIS EYES WERE OPEN FIVE SECONDS BEFORE THE alarm was set to go off. There was no effort in waking. It was sudden. Coldly conscious, he reached out his left hand in the dark and pushed in the stop. The alarm glowed a second, then faded.
At his side, his wife put her hand on his arm.
âDid you sleep?â he asked.
âNo, did you?â
âA little,â he said. âNot much.â
She was silent for a few seconds. He heard her throat contract. She shivered. He knew what she was going to say.
âWeâre still going?â she asked.
He twisted his shoulders on the bed and took a deep breath.
âYes,â he said, and he felt her fingers tighten on his arm.
âWhat time is it?â she asked.
âAbout five.â
âWeâd better get ready.â
âYes, weâd better.â
They made no move.
âYouâre sure we can get on the ship without anyone noticing?â she asked.
âThey think itâs just another test flight. Nobody will be checking.â
She didnât say anything. She moved a little closer to him. He felt how cold her skin was.
âIâm afraid,â she said.
He took her hand and held it in a tight grip. âDonât be,â he said. âWeâll be safe.â
âItâs the children Iâm worried about.â
âWeâll be safe,â he repeated.
She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it gently.
âAll right,â she said.
They both sat up in the darkness. He heard her stand. Her night garment rustled to the floor. She didnât pick it up. She stood still, shivering in the cold morning air.
âYouâre sure we donât need anything else with us?â she asked.
âNo, nothing. I have all the supplies we need in the ship. Anyway â¦â
âWhat?â
âWe canât carry anything past the guard,â he said. âHe has to think you and the kids are just coming to see me off.â
She began dressing. He threw off the covering and got up. He went across the cold floor to the closet and dressed.
âIâll get the children up,â she said.
He grunted, pulling clothes over his head. At the door she stopped. âAre you sure â¦â she began.
âWhat?â
âWonât the guard think itâs funny that ⦠that our neighbors are coming down to see you off, too?â
He sank down on the bed and fumbled for the clasps on his shoes.
âWeâll have to take that chance,â he said. âWe need them with us.â
She sighed. âIt seems so cold. So calculating.â
He straightened up and saw her silhouette in the doorway.
âWhat else can we do?â he asked intensely. âWe canât interbreed our own children.â
âNo,â she said. âItâs just â¦â
âJust what?â
âNothing, darling. Iâm sorry.â
She closed the door. Her footsteps disappeared down the hall. The door to the childrenâs room opened. He heard their two voices. A cheerless smile raised his lips. Youâd think it was a holiday, he thought.
He pulled on his shoes. At least the kids didnât know what was happening. They thought they were going to take him down to the field. They thought theyâd come back and tell all their schoolmates about it. They didnât know theyâd never come back.
He finished clasping his shoes and stood up. He shuffled over to the bureau and turned on the light. It was odd, such an undistinguished looking man planning this.
Cold. Calculating. Her words filled his mind