sunny where you’re at now?”
“Yes,” croaked the Old Man. “It will be very hot today.”
“Then you are very blessed.”
What do I say? How…
“Go home,” said Natalie. “There is nothing you can do, now that the device is not working properly. Go home, please. And enjoy the sunshine. For Megan.”
Out on the plain, the Boy was lifting his granddaughter onto a small pinto horse.
I can see her smile from here.
What does the device do?
“What is Project Einstein?” asked the Old Man.
“The device is a target laser for a weapon. The laser could be used from a safe distance to direct the weapon to its target. Now that the targeting laser is inoperative I cannot direct the weapon to its target.”
“But when we were testing it, you could tell I’d turned it on.”
There was no response.
“Natalie or General Watt or Computer or whatever your name is, you could tell I had turned it on, right?”
“It would mean the end of your life,” said Natalie. “Now that the laser pointer is inoperative the device’s beacon is our only option for aiming the weapon. If you are anywhere near the beacon once the weapon reaches the target… you will die.”
Static.
“Go home,” said Natalie tiredly. “You’ve done more than enough. We won’t last much longer.”
Chapter 48
The Old Man and the Boy walked up the hill, climbing over the low wall and walking among the junk-forged cannons that lay broken and smashed.
“Where will you go now?” asked the Old Man.
The Boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve really never known where I was going. I’ve only followed the road.”
“What about your people?”
The Boy watched her on the plain below, galloping back and forth on her pinto mare. He thought of his friend. He thought of Horse.
“They are only where I am from. That’s all.”
It was quiet among the cannons and supplies that lay strewn about.
“I want to ask you something,” said the Old Man.
The Boy turned to face the Old Man, leaning stiffly against the low bric-a-brac wall as he tried to give his weak left side a brief rest.
He waited for the Old Man to speak.
“I’m going on now. Alone.”
The Old Man took out Sergeant Presley’s map and handed it back to the Boy.
The Boy took it, watching the Old Man.
“What about her?”
“I want you to take her back to Tucson for me. I know I can trust you. Take her to her parents. You’ll be welcome there. As will all your people. And also, others who will arrive here sometime tomorrow.”
“What others?”
“The people trapped in the bunker. They have transportation. If all goes well, they should be here sometime tomorrow. Then you can lead them to Tucson. There is more than enough there for everyone.”
“And you?” asked the Boy in the silence that followed.
“I don’t think I’ll be coming with you.”
The Boy watched the Old Man.
He doesn’t think I’m up to it.
He doesn’t think I’ll be enough, and even now he’ll throw his life away to save mine.
But he doesn’t know how to drive the tank.
“I need you to do this for me.”
The Boy nodded.
“Then I’ll do what you ask.”
I expected some kind of fight. Some argument. Now all I have to do is walk down the hill and drive the tank away from here.
From her.
Yes, you do. And I need you too.
In the dream she always said Grandpa.
But I tried to trick the dream and change my name.
It seems the trick has been played on you, my friend. It found you all the same.
Yes.
“Yes.”
“What?” asked the Boy.
The Old Man looked confused.
“You said, ‘yes.’”
Now I’m talking out loud to myself.
“Just answering a question I’ve been asking lately.”
Below, she wheeled the pinto mare and raced back across the plain.
The tank is waiting, my friend.
I don’t want to go now.
“What was the question?” asked the Boy.
You’re wasting time. The bunker could flood with radiation at any moment if they manage to get through.
“The question is ‘Can you let go?’ I hear it a lot lately.”
“Let go of what?” asked the Boy.
The Old Man swallowed.
“Life, I guess.”
“And ‘yes’ was your answer?”
The Old Man looked up and said nothing. Words seemed lost somewhere in his throat.
The Boy looked down at the dirt beneath his tired and worn boots and said, “You take everything with you.”
“I don’t understand,” said the Old Man.
“It’s my… my words I say to myself all the time. I think my words and your question are maybe somehow the same.”
I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you speak at one time, Boy.
The Boy saw the passing shadow of something familiar in the Old Man’s face.
“And what is your answer?” asked the Old Man.
The Boy looked down at his weak leg. He rubbed his thick fingers over the thin muscles there.
“I don’t think mine has an answer. I think I would like to have your question instead of my words,” said the Boy.
“How come?”
