saucer! A smile crossed his face.
He put on his pajamas and fell into bed. Despite his fatigue, his eyes stayed open. He had this vague feeling that something was out there. With the lights in the house off, he went from window to window, looking out into the foggy night. And of course saw nothing. Finally he went back to bed, and slept.
Two and a half hours after they left Missouri, Rip glided down toward Chesapeake Bay under a clear night sky. He could see the vast sheet of water glistening in the starlight.
He brought the saucer to a hover, lowered the landing gear and let the ship slip gently into the water. The water lapped at the canopy as he steadied the saucer. He opened the cap on the water tank and let the water run in. He could hear it gurgling. When the noise stopped, he closed the cap and let the weight of the saucer carry it down. Finally, at least a hundred feet down, the ship contacted the floor of the bay. It came to rest at a slight angle.
They were safe here, he thought. There was no way Lalou-ette could find this ship under a hundred feet of water.
Rip pushed the power knob in to the first detent, climbed from the pilot's seat, used the meager facilities, then curled up beside Charley with a blanket. In seconds he was sound asleep.
When Egg awoke the sun was coming over the tree-tops and the birds were singing. A dove on the gutter just above the window cooed repeatedly. Looking out, he could see that the grass was covered with droplets of dew, which reflected the light of the rising sun. The foliage was changing; splotches of red and yellow and brown decorated the trees.
Egg rubbed his hands together, then donned clean clothes from his closet. Soon he was in the kitchen making breakfast. He turned on a network morning show and watched the president's press secretary answering reporters' questions — most of which, he said, he didn't yet know the answer to.
Yet the news was good — very, very good — and the talking heads were euphoric. The government said Pierre was no longer a threat, and even the French admitted that they were unable to contact the lunar base. Later today the heroes of the hour, Charlotte Pine and Rip Cantrell, would be landing the saucer at Andrews. The reception would be carried live on this network. Happy days were here again.
Egg snapped off the television and hummed as he served himself bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. He ate at the little table where he always ate, with the morning sun streaming through the window.
Ooh, boy, life is
After he had put the dishes in the dishwasher and started the machine, he donned a sweater that was hanging on a peg near the front door and went out onto the porch. A squirrel in a nearby tree scolded him. A cool little breeze rustled the autumn leaves.
Egg kept a sealed container of bird food in one corner of the porch; now he opened it and dribbled a scoopful of sunflower seeds along the porch rail. In less than a minute the large, fat gray squirrel leaped from the tree to the rail and settled in to dine, ignoring the man.
With his hands in his pockets, Egg strolled around his lawn, looking at this, examining that. He soon found himself at the entrance to his hangar. He opened the door, went inside and flipped on the light.
An old man was sitting on the couch by the refrigerator. His face was in shadow, but Egg could see his wispy white hair and the gnarled bony hands, one of which held a nasty little automatic.
'It's about time, Cantrell. I was getting tired of waiting.'
Newton Chadwick!
'How'd you get here?'
'I've got the gun, Cantrell, so I'll ask the questions and you'll supply the answers.' He wheezed a bit after he spoke, seeming to fight for air. 'Come over here and sit so I can see you better.'
Egg hesitated.
'Do as I say or I'll drop you where you stand. Don't have much time left, and I owe you a big one.'
Egg walked over and took a chair eight feet from Chadwick, on his left side. Chadwick rested the hand that held the automatic on his thigh.
'That's better,' the old man said. And he was old. From this distance Chadwick looked every day of eighty- five, perhaps ninety.
'Yeah, Cantrell, take a good look. My hair turned white and most of it fell out, my teeth got loose and I lost half of them. I dropped twenty pounds just like that and got splotches all over my hands. Damn prostate swelled up so I can't piss, hands shake, can't see very well — I'm in a hell of a shape, and I got you to thank. You're the bastard that dumped my drug and replaced it with water, aren't you?'
'I did that, yes.'
'And now it's too late,' Chadwick said fiercely. 'Even if I got more of the serum, it won't reverse the aging process. It merely retards it, puts it on hold. Who the hell wants to live for a hundred years in the shape I'm in? I ought to just kill you here and now.'
'Why don't you?'
'I'm thinking about it. I want to watch you sweat before you die. Like I'm doing. Haven't got long left. My heart is also acting up.' He paused for a moment, shook his head as if to clear it and coughed silently. 'Lalouette dropped me here. The antimatter weapon on Pine's saucer blew his left arm off at the elbow. He was in no shape to fight anymore and headed for home. Lucky for us I managed to get a tourniquet on that stump or he'd have bled to death.'
'So you didn't die and you're back on earth. Most of those people on the moon are dead, and the rest are doomed. Be glad you're here.'
'But I'm dying, you fool! Dying of old age that's catching up to me all at once. Thanks to you. Hell of a thing, what you did to me.'
'Oh, cut the self-pity,' Egg roared. 'I haven't got the stomach for it. You've lived a long, healthy life and worked hard at something you liked. That's more than most people get. Now here you sit like a toad in a well crying, 'Woe is me.' Pfft! It's time to stop the pity party. Get off your butt and go outside. It's a marvelous fall day. The birds are singing, the critters are fat, the sun is shining, and the world is turning.'
Chadwick lifted the pistol and pointed it at Egg's middle, which was a large target. His hand shook. 'Don't you understand?' His voice was high pitched, querulous. 'I'm old and worn out and dying.'
Egg lowered his voice and leaned forward. 'You are the one who doesn't understand. If you only have a day or an hour or fifteen minutes left to live, you should spend it out there in the sun, savoring this day. The value of life isn't measured by the amount of time you get, but by how well you enjoy what you do have.'
Chadwick couldn't hold the pistol up. He lowered it into his lap. 'I was always too busy looking forward, scheming, wanting more of everything. Money, recognition, fame, respect—'
He paused, breathing in and out, put the hand holding the pistol up to his heart and pressed on his chest with his wrist. After a bit he lowered his hand back into his lap. He seemed to forget about the pistol. At least he didn't aim it.
'Come on,' Egg said, and stood up. He held out his hand. 'Let's get out in it.'
Chadwick hesitated, then held out his left hand. As Egg pulled he pushed off with his right, which still held the pistol, and levered himself erect. He stood swaying, holding on to Egg. Finally he looked down at the pistol, seeming surprised that he still had it. He put it in his trouser pocket.
'Let's go,' Egg said, and helped the old man walk. He took tiny, shuffling steps. Egg held the door open, and Chadwick shielded his eyes from the sun. It took almost a minute for his eyes to adjust.
Egg took him along the path beside the runway so Chadwick wouldn't have to climb the hill. The flowers were still out, bees were busy, and Egg pointed out a hummingbird. Chadwick looked as if he were seeing these wonders for the very first time. The gentle breeze played with his hair. He put up his hand, felt his hair moving around and smoothed it some.
'Was there ever a woman?' Egg asked.
'Yes,' Chadwick said. After a bit he added, 'She had dark hair, nearly black. Brown eyes.'
A little farther along, Chadwick staggered. 'Pretty tired,' he gasped. 'Let me… sit under that tree.'
The old maple was at least twenty inches in diameter and had lost a major limb in the last big summer thunderstorm. The shattered limb lay beside the tree in the grass, still sporting its withered leaves.
