Cretaceous Sea

'Joe?'

'Yeah?'

'Do you remember last night?'

'It's all fuzzy.'

'You said something about the probe Green and Daddy left in.'

A stricken look came to Joe's face. 'I did?'

'Joe, you must tell me the truth. I need to know where that probe went.'

'No you don't.'

'I know you're afraid to tell me. You think that... that I'll hate you if you do.' A look of profound sadness crept over Joe's face, and he turned his head to hide his tears.

'I won't hate you,' said Con. 'I just need to know.'

'I'm sorry, Con,' whispered Joe.

'Where did it go?'

'Nowhere.'

'Nowhere?'

'Only data returns to the future. The probe self-destructs.'

'Oh,' said Con quietly.

Joe began to cry softly. 'I'm sorry, Con,' he said between sobs. 'I'm so sorry. Green would have never gone without him. I tried to make it up to you. I'm sorry.'

Con looked at Joe and knew she could never hate him.

She was still confused, but one thing was clear to her—she must soothe Joe's anguish.

'I forgive you.'

His look of sorrow faded. 'You do?' he asked like a hope-ful child.

'He left me, Joe. He left by his own free will. But you stayed. You took care of me.' Joe's face grew peaceful. 'Yeah,' he said faintly. 'I took care of you.' He slowly sank down and slept. RICK WALKED ALONG the riverbank, collecting driftwood as rapidly as he could. When he accumulated a small armload, he set it in a prominent place for pickup later, then headed off, carrying only the travois poles. By that means, he hoped to accumulate enough wood to make a large load. It was important to collect as much fuel as possible, for there was food for only one more meal. The only thing that stymied Rick's efficient plan was a scar-city of wood. He had already picked the riverbank clean for several miles from the camp. When he reached virgin territory, driftwood was still scarce. Since he would carry a load only on the return trip, Rick's gathering technique allowed him to cover distance more quickly. Before too long, he was miles downstream and approaching a bluff that towered over the river. It was the highest landmark in the flat landscape. If I climb it, he thought, maybe I can see where we are. Rick left the poles by the river and began to ascend the bluff. He climbed despite his concern that the delay might cause him to get caught by the dark as he returned to camp. The risk seemed justified, for it was his first chance to study the trail ahead. Viewing conditions were ideal. No snow was falling and the dark gray of the sky had not yet begun to deepen.

Rick ascended the bluff and was rewarded for his effort beyond his wildest hopes. The river flowed through the snowy landscape until it crossed a dark, wavy line toward the horizon. The line had the appearance of debris left on a seashore at high tide. Even from this distance, it was plain that the line was the high-water mark of the tsu-nami. Beyond the line lay the sea.

For the first time since Joe had become ill, hope re-turned to Rick's heart. The sea was no longer a distant goal. He could see it. From where he stood, he could make out the spire of Montana Isle near the horizon. Upon it, he envisioned scientists like himself—people with medicine for Joe, food for Con, and the means to return them all home. Enough wood for a hundred signal fires lay in the mounds deposited by the tsunami. It seemed to him to be a sign that this harsh world was relenting and loosening its grip on them.

With energy born from hope, Rick headed down the bluff to collect his wood. Even when the poles bent under the heavy load, his light heart sped him along. There was still light when he returned to camp. As he approached the campsite, Rick was puzzled to see that the fire had gone out despite the fact that there was still wood. He dropped his load and rushed to the tent. When he peered in inside, Con was cradling Joe's head as she slowly rocked back