"Why on earth did he do that?"
Laurie looked at her, her face puzzled. "I think he did it to keep the peace." Karen must have made a face, because Laurie raised her hands in a gesture to ward off reprimands for saying something stupid. "I'm as serious as a heart attack, sweetie. Him and Frank Osborn had a chat yesterday, as I gather it, and old Lucas suggested opening the mill so everyone would have something to do, something to stop them all from going stir crazy." She snorted. "It's all conjecture, of course. My main source for city gossip is still in Frank's jail. But I actually think he did it to keep the peace around here. I think maybe he's scared someone will be stupid and get themselves hurt in a bad way."
"That's mighty nice of Lucas, but I can't see how it's gonna do him any good. He's already got more carpet and tile set aside than he knows what to do with."
"Karen, sweetie, it ain't like he's got to worry about the money he'll lose. He's got more money than God." 'More money that God' was one of Laurie's favorite ways to poke fun at Karen. It was the sort of term that was almost but not quite offensive in Karen's mind, and Laurie used that knowledge to her best advantage. Karen made a face in return, and Laurie winked at her.
"What d'you folks want to eat today?"
The three of them scanned the menus and finally decided on what they would have. Laurie took the order and went off to tell Martin. On a day like this, Karen was almost surprised to see Martin working.
Dutch started up the conversation. "Noticed you were out after curfew, Karen. Is everything okay?"
Karen started, feeling like a convict despite the fact that she'd done nothing wrong. Well, she amended, nothing besides getting two men killed and maybe half the decent folks I know thrown in jail along the way. She forced her mind to stop with the traitorous thoughts, but it wasn't easy. Maybe there would be a few more people alive when it was all said and done. That was how she had to look at it if she wanted to avoid breaking into hysterical tears. "Oh, yeah. I was over here with Laurie, and we lost track of the time. She offered to let me stay at her place, but I wanted to make sure Roughie wasn't doing anything wrong. He tends to mess up the bedclothes if I leave him in for too long."
"Heck, I'd have taken care of him," Becka chirped in her nasal tones. "He's a cutie."
Dutch smiled. "You'd take in every stray animal on the planet if you could."
"Well," Becka responded, with a sheepish grin on her face. "Somebody's got to look out for them. Too many people forget that it's their world too."
"You aren't starting with that again, are you?"
"I wouldn't say a word if you'd stop going hunting."
"Am I doing any hunting right now, Becka?" Dutch's voice dropped by a full octave, and the tension between the two of them was almost visible in the air.
"No. But only because you can't."
"Leave it be." The look Dutch shot at his girlfriend ended the argument. Karen chose not to say anything about the incident. Before the tension got too thick, she asked them if they'd heard about what happened at the Piggly Wiggly.
"I don't normally like to say much about the government, but that was just wrong. Maybe the one guy had it coming, but they shot both of them." Dutch shook his head, pausing long enough to suck down a gulp of his Coke. "There's no cause for that. None at all."
"He said they'd kill two of us for every soldier who got shot." Becka spoke softly, her eyes wide and her bottom lip pooched out in a pout. "I guess they meant it this time."
Karen shook her head, patting the girl's hand. "Don't you worry about it. They won't be coming after anyone who follows the laws they set up. Stay away from them and you won't get hurt."
Dutch sneered unconsciously, his eyes looking past the distance wall. "Don't kid yourself, Karen. If one person does the crime and two people get punished for it, that means an awful lot of innocent people get hurt. Any one of us could be in the wrong place at the wrong time and get our heads taken off for our trouble." For all the world, he barely looked as if he even knew he was talking.
"I hope you're wrong, Dutch. I really do."
Laurie came back with their meals, and all three of them ate. There was nothing more to say for a while, and Karen was happy for the silence.
3
For the last two days, Karen had not seen her father. When at last she did see him, she could not believe the changes that had come over him. He wore blue jeans and a wrinkled button down shirt, instead of the usual dress pants and pressed, starched shirt he normally wore while away from the church. His usually squared shoulders were slumped, making him seem smaller than he actually was. Worst of all, his handsome face seemed to have aged by another decade. William O'Rourke looked horrible.
"Daddy? Are you okay?" Karen spoke softly, as if using her usual voice might shatter him. Her heart seemed to flutter, and she wondered if the heat was finally getting to her.
Her father looked up, and, past the dark circles under his eyes, she could see the same light brown eyes she had always loved. But the strength of conviction was gone from them. The color was right, the shape was right, but staring into those eyes was like staring into the eyes of a mannequin. "Hello, Kari. How are you, my dear?"
"I-I'm fine, Daddy. But how are you?"
For just a second, the old, wonderful smile she knew so well came back into his face. It disappeared so quickly that she felt she must have imagined it. "I'm just tired. I haven't slept well."
"Then that's it. You're coming with me and I'm taking you to my place." He started to protest, but Karen placed her hand over his mouth, gently, as he used to do to her when she protested too much. "No arguments. You're coming home with me, and I'll take care of you. Just like you take care of Mom." She almost cringed at how dry and hot his skin felt.
William O'Rourke smiled again, closing his eyes and sighing. "There's no point in arguing with you on this one, Karen. I know you too well, and I am too tired." She moved him towards her car, and he followed docilely. By way of thanks, he squeezed her hand after they were both seated and buckled in. His hands seemed to have no strength. Karen could have wept, but forced herself not to. He had enough troubles already.
4
Dinner was fairly quiet, subdued. Maury had once again worked his magic, this time on a box of Hamburger Helper. By the time he was finished, the stuff actually had flavor and texture, two things Karen always felt were missing when she cooked up a box. Perhaps it was simply that she never followed the instructions, but she doubted it.
Dutch and Becka still weren't speaking to each other, and Karen began to think that the silence went far beyond the argument they'd had over animal rights. Both managed to be friendly, but it was obviously an effort. For his part, Dutch smiled and nodded, even laughed at the right times, but his mind was very obviously elsewhere. Becka was a different story. She, too, managed to be civil, but she was almost constantly glaring at Dutch. If looks could kill Karen had no doubt that Dutch would be a burnt crisp sitting in a pool of his own body fat.
The Danskys were still shaken by what Maury had witnessed earlier in the day. The man's usual exuberance was sadly lacking, and Karen hoped it would return soon. Joan doted on her husband, making certain that he was comfortable and touching him constantly as if to reassure herself that he was still alive. The house sounded lonely without the two of them constantly bickering, and Karen was amused at how quickly the sounds had become commonplace.
Her father ate in silence, smiling softly once when he looked at her, and concentrated on his food with the same intensity as she felt a prisoner on Death Row would use to finish his last meal.
Even Roughie noticed the tension in the air. He sat away from the table, eyes planted on Karen, and pouted in that way dogs have. Roughie's dark brown eyes seemed to hold the weight of the world, and he was obviously not happy. Eyes that expressive on a member of the opposite sex were probably the cause of many romantic trysts.
Despite the gathering darkness, Karen desperately wanted to escape from her own home. Thes
e people, even her father, were an added burden on her mind. Already she felt her stomach churning at the thought of Pete. No word had come from Frank Osborn, and that likely meant the man was still on the loose. Holed up where he could wait for the right time to act. Frank was a considerate man. He'd have called if anyone had her ex-husband in custody.
Mostly her thoughts were on Joe Ditweiller and Herb Cambridge. Neither of them were good men. Certainly not the sort she preferred to hang around and chat with. They'd known about how Pete treated her, had probably encouraged him in his abusive manners. But she'd never wished either of them dead. She'd never wanted any harm to come to anyone as a result of her list.
They were dead just the same, and her hand might as well have pointed the guns that shot them down. She thought of Herb's family, most of whom she knew at least in passing, and hated herself. She thought of Burt Ditweiller, who was a drunk and a oaf, but one of the nicer men in town. He associated with the same crowd as his brother, but was a nicer person, less likely to actually be mean for the sake of being mean. Now he was all alone, no family to turn to with his grief and anger.
The night slipped away. Before she realized the time had come, everyone was in bed. Karen sat in her kitchen a while longer, sipping at the coffee that cost Maurice Dansky more than he'd ever bargained for. From time to time she heard the faint sounds of screams. Sometimes the noises were angry, sometimes they wailed a distant grief.
Karen tried to sleep, but rest was not meant for her that night.
***
The following morning Karen arose early, determined to make the best of her situation, despite her feelings of guilt. She showered and started breakfast before anyone else in the house was awake. Pancakes and scrambled eggs would have to be enough for her guests. She was still tired, and had never really liked cooking. While the coffee was percolating, she set the table and let Roughie out to run around in the back yard. The oafish dog promptly tripped over himself and started rolling around in the grass, reveling in the early morning sunshine.
Maury and Joan arrived first, protesting her desire to do any work at all. She hushed them and served them breakfast. "It's only fair I cook at least one meal while you folks are here. I mean, this is supposed to be your vacation."
Dutch and Becka were next down. Though there was still some lingering tension between them, they both seemed in better spirits than the night before. When her father finally joined them, even he managed a weak smile. He looked better rested than he had the day before, and Karen was grateful for the change in his appearance. He was clean and tidy again, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were less pronounced than they had been. His eyes seemed less feverish.
They ate in silence, save for a few compliments thrown Karen's way. When they had finished their meal, Becka and Dutch started on the dishes. William O'Rourke looked across the table at Karen and smiled. "Feel like visiting your mother today?"
"Well, I surely am not letting you go over there on your own." She smiled. "You might decide you don't like my place and try sneaking on over to your house when you're finished. I can't have that."
"I would never do any such thing." Her father's voice had an echo of the wry humor she was used to, and he managed a smile that did not look entirely plastic.
"You most certainly would. I would too, in the same situation, and I got all my bad habits from you."
"Impossible. I don't have any bad habits." To prove his point, the reverend promptly belched, patting his stomach.
Karen laughed more for his benefit than because she actually wanted to express amusement. He was trying too hard, but at least he was trying. Joan and Maurice looked on, both looking shocked. The laugh became a little more real when she saw their faces. "Daddy, you are impossible."
"That I am, Kari. That I am. Now, let's go see if we can't sneak you in to see your mother, shall we?"
"Oh, Daddy, I don't know if they'll let me…"
"I've been wearing them down. I think it would do your mother a world of good to see you."
"We'll see." Karen left the kitchen table and walked over to where her purse hung on the closet door near the front entrance of the house. Even with four strangers in the house she hadn't been able to break that habit. She had quickly learned that she had nothing to fear from her guests. Everything was exactly where it belonged each time she checked it. She was sure today would be no different.
Together she and her father headed towards the high school. After a few moments of silence, Will asked her to make a quick stop at the lake.
"Well, we have time, I don't see why not." She used her turn signal and followed all the rules, despite the lack of any heavy traffic. "Why did you want to go over there, Dad?"
William O'Rourke was silent for a moment, his eyes focused out the windshield. Then he turned to look at Karen with a sad smile on his face. "It's something I have to do, Karen. Something I have to face. I haven't seen the thing since it crashed." He looked away, as if caught red-handed with a dirty little secret. "I have to see it, to make sure I'm not… misremembering what it looks like."
Karen remembered his words from a few days past. His fears that the sight of the UFO removed all possibilities of God and Heaven. Somewhere along the way, she'd managed to forget what he'd said. Now she contemplated the words carefully, chilled by the implications for the first time.
"Do you still feel the same way, Daddy?"
"What way, Kari?"
"That that thing invalidates God?"
"I don't know, sweetheart. I just know I've got to see it again. I-I've got to know if it's real in my heart, the same way I know it's real in my head. Does that make any sense?"
"Yeah. I suppose it does." Karen turned down Millwater Street, dreading the steep hill leading down to the lake, as she felt her car's suspension groan with every bump and dip. At the bottom of the hill was the vast parking lot for the shops at the edge of Oldman's Lake. To the left of the lot the burnt remains of the docks hung slightly over the empty lakebed. To the right, Roswell Avenue stretched off, slowly winding around until it crawled towards the center of town. Directly ahead the command tents of the armed men who now controlled Collier sat, almost hiding the main mass of the ship. Even with all of the obstacles, Karen could see the exposed cavity where the lake used to be. She wondered what they had done with all the water they drained away, wondered how they could remove the water from so large a lake and simply make it disappear.
Beside her Karen's father inhaled sharply, a gasp of air that almost seemed to hiss as it entered his lungs. Karen rode the rest of the way down, weaving through the military jeeps and civilian vehicles that littered both sides of the road. Even from a block away, she could see the rigid stances of the soldiers. She could feel their anger like a physical wave undulating away from their inner turmoils. She did not envy them their tasks. She did not like them, true enough, and she wouldn't have traded places with them for anything at all.
The bright morning sun was blocked out by another cluster of gathering clouds. From the oppressive weight of the air and the look of the dark underbellies of the growing puffs in the air, Karen knew another storm was brewing.
She parked as close as she could to the main parking lot, stopping only when she reached the barriers erected by Collier's own little Nazi brigade. The engine in her faithful little Taurus rattled for a few seconds after she killed it. She made a mental note to see about getting the old beast a tune-up.
By the time she'd stepped out of the car, her father was halfway to his destination at the edge of the lake. The guards looked at him as he passed, but made no effort to stop him from heading towards the massive ship. From where she was now, she could see that the scaffolding-with its mezzanine grating and thick couplings-the soldiers had built around the gigantic disc was almost completely rebuilt. None of the old, scorched metal from before had been used in the reconstruction. Karen thought about just how much money that metallic framework must have cost the people trying to protect their precious
secret and then decided it was probably best not to know. William O'Rourke stared at the spacecraft. Karen stopped a few feet to his left, wavering between the need to look upon the unearthly vessel and the need to make certain her father was okay. The man who'd helped raise her, who was always so strong and unshakable in his faith, focused on the ship. His eyes did not so much as flicker. Karen couldn't tell what he was thinking, but by the strained expression on his suddenly pale face, she could guess he wasn't happy about what he saw.
Karen had done her best not to think too much about the thing half-buried in the lakebed. She hadn't actively avoided being near it, but she certainly hadn't taken the time to give it much thought. She looked now. The gleaming hull of the thing reflected back the darkening sky, distorting the image and warping her perspective. It had no texture of its own, and Karen found that almost as unsettling as the idea that it had fallen from the stars. How can such a thing exist? she thought It doesn't make any sense. The longer she stared, the more she thought she understood what was going through her father's head. There was nothing to prepare her for the possibility of life on other planets. The Bible made mention of Heaven and Hell-even if it didn't use those exact names-and it spoke of demons and angels. It never made mention of alien beings from other worlds. Or, if it did, the references were too vague.
She continued to look at the thing, watching the clouds reflected on its surface as they gathered and darkened. The scaffolding and the soldiers building the structure around the ship ceased to exist for her. There was only the gigantic, distorted mirror and the secrets it held. Her own reflection was a pinpoint, but the sky above seemed to grow larger and larger as she watched.
Karen tore her eyes away from the hypnotic ship when she heard her father's gasp. William O'Rourke still stared where he had before, but his breath came in deep hitching sobs. Though his eyes did not move, his head turned slowly from side to side, a denial of what his traitorous eyes continued to observe. His breathing was ragged, and tears were doing their best to obscure his vision. Her father looked angry, filled with a rage the likes of which she'd never seen on his face.
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