awaken her, only to suggest that it was too bad what he had to do, too bad that the most valuable artifact in the history of the world had to be protected from even one more set of human eyes.
The air was dark outside, but he had found just what he needed, something very heavy. She was sleeping soundly when he lifted it above her, and never woke again when he brought it down.
Owen stood among the throng of well-wishers, their glasses lifted in a wedding toast as Howard brought his remarks to a close. “Anne, you’re not just marrying Owen,” he said, “you’re getting me and Marty, too.”
Owen laughed, then glanced toward the bar where Colonel Campbell stood off to himself. Now was the moment, he thought, time to go in for the kill.
He inched his way out of the crowd and walked over to the colonel.
“Could we have a talk?” he asked. “In your study.”
Colonel Campbell shrugged. “Okay,” he said.
In the study, Owen took in the luxurious room, the high walls of books.
“If it wouldn’t break my daughter’s heart, I’d kill you where you stand,” Colonel Campbell said.
Owen smiled confidently. “But it really would break her heart.” He lifted his chin arrogantly. “You know what I’d like as a wedding present? I’d like to be a major.”
Colonel Campbell laughed.
“A major,” Owen repeated firmly. “Anything less and you couldn’t put me in charge of that little project of yours at Wright-Patterson.”
Colonel Campbell’s face was motionless. “That project is mine. You will never see inside that laboratory.”
“I disagree,” Owen said haughtily. He took the small piece of metal Sue had given him. “It’s an alloy unknown on this planet. The markings are also unknown. It was found at Pine Lodge.” He pocketed the metal. “And either you give me exactly what I want or I’ll go public. That should bring your flying saucer crashing down on your head.”
The colonel drew in a shaky breath. “Enjoy your promotion,” he said.
Owen nodded, turned to leave, then stopped and faced the colonel once again. “And don’t worry about Anne. She’s the sun and the moon to me.”
PART TWO. Jacob and Jesse
Chapter One
Kate Keys continued the story of Artemis, a huge squirrel who lived in a gigantic oak tree in the middle of the forest. Jesse listened attentively, his face nearly motionless save for his large, expressive eyes. He was seven years old now, but in bed he still looked like an infant, perfectly formed and innocent, a storybook child.
She finished the story, closed the book, gave Jesse a good-night kiss, then rose and headed for the door.
“Mom…”
“Go to sleep, Jesse.”
He looked troubled, and Kate knew what the trouble was. His question didn’t surprise her.
“Mom, do you think Daddy ever thinks about us?”
Russell had been gone for five years, and Kate had no idea where he was. But she felt that she still knew Russell, knew his decency, and the love he’d had for his son. Wherever he was, whatever he might be doing, she was certain that he thought of Jesse all the time, dreamed one day of seeing him again, that from the depths of this madness that tormented him and had finally driven him away, he still reached for Jesse… and for her.
“Of course he does, honey,” she said. She wished she had more consoling words, something that would explain Russell to his son, explain the torturous look she’d seen in his eyes as he’d frantically searched for his old crew, then the sense of mission that had overwhelmed him, his determination to find Johnson. He’d gone in search of his copilot, she knew that much. She also knew that he’d found him, and that the man had all but died in Russell’s arms. She’d learned that much in her own efforts to find him. She could only imagine the pain of that moment, the baffled, animal fear that must have settled over Russell, the futility and the hopelessness. It didn’t surprise her that he’d vanished after that, willed himself to stay away from his family despite how much he loved them. She’d seen the way he felt about himself, the sense that he carried some dark seed within him, some dreadful trait or quality that imperiled those he loved, so that his only choice, bitter and painful though it was, had been to separate himself, simply go off, like a dying animal. She wanted to explain all this to Jesse, but couldn’t find the words. He was only seven, after all.
“Go to sleep, now, Jesse,” she told him gently as she closed the door.
Bill was at the kitchen table, thumbing through the evening paper when she came into the room.
“Jesse asleep?” Bill asked.
Kate walked to the window and peered out. “He’s asking about his father again.”
Bill put down the paper. “How about you, do you still miss him?”
Kate walked over to Bill and knelt beside him, her face very near his. “He ran out on us, Bill. And he never came back.” She touched his face. “But you were there, and you didn’t go anywhere.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Don’t you think I know that?”
He nodded silently, accepting her assurance that she would never leave him, but she saw it in his eyes, the insecurity, his fear that Russell would turn up again one day and take her and Jesse away from him She knew that would never happen, but she also knew that in the dead of night, when the house creaked and the wind rattled the windowpanes, Jesse probably dreamed of just such a return, dreamed of sleeping in the warm protection of his father’s arms, of mending the broken circle that had once made his life whole, and that despite herself, despite the wonderful husband and father Bill had become, she sometimes dreamed it too.
Jesse heard the scratching first, soft but insistent, like fingers on a windowpane. He shifted beneath the covers, tried to press the noise from his mind, then rolled over and opened his eyes.
And he was there.
Artemis, the squirrel.
Jesse propped himself up in bed and stared into the gray, furry face. The squirrel didn’t move, but he felt drawn to it, summoned to follow it. He slid out of his bed, walked to the window and opened it.
Artemis drifted away from the window and hung in midair, smiling softly and with an eerie sense of beckoning, as if to say,
Jesse climbed out of the window, and stood on the second-floor ledge, his cowboy pajamas billowing out in the chill autumn breeze. At the edge of the roof, he stood stiffly, arms plastered to his sides, a little cylinder of flesh high above the green lawn to which Artemis had now descended, a huge gray doll in the rippling grass.
For a moment their eyes locked. Then Artemis blinked slowly, and Jesse heard his silent command,
He jumped and Artemis swept forward and up into the air and caught him as he fell, the two of them spinning wildly in the warm summer darkness. He felt the furry arms around him, holding him protectively. Then he was on the ground, surrounded by a vast green lawn, Artemis leading him away, across miles and miles of green, time flowing in all directions, like a river overflowing its banks, the world a moving carpet beneath his bare feet, drawing him deeper and deeper into the entangling forest.
A giant oak stood out from the rest of the trees, and Jesse knew that this was Artemis’ home. A black mouth gaped at the center of the tree, the door to Artemis’ world.
