Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [5]
“That’s cold,” Beverly allowed, though she had a hard time relating to it. Arvada III seldom got any colder than this, and she couldn’t remember what it was like anywhere else.
“You don’t ever want to be in a place like that,” Bobby told her.
Beverly shrugged. “I guess.”
Her companion didn’t come up with any other questions; he just walked alongside her with his hands stuck into his pockets. But Beverly still couldn’t hear the calls of the avians.
After a while, she decided she liked it better when they were talking. In the silence, it was too easy to imagine Bobby staring at her.
She was about to ask him what he thought of their school when he spoke up again. “You know,” he said, his voice strangely thick and slow, “you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
It hit Beverly like a blow to the stomach. She stopped and looked at Bobby, not knowing what to say or do. And for a moment, it seemed he was as paralyzed as she was.
Then he took an awkward step toward her and put his hand on her arm. Somehow, it wasn’t as unpleasant a sensation as she would have thought. And his eyes, which she had found so irksome, were like warm dark pools drawing her into their depths.
He’s going to kiss me, Beverly thought, her heart thudding against her rib cage. He’s going to kiss me.
No boy had ever done that before. And certainly not on the lips. But she could tell by the way Bobby was tilting his head that he meant to do just that.
And with a shock, Beverly realized that she wanted him to. In fact, she couldn’t wait.
A minute earlier, the very notion would have made Beverly sick to her stomach. But somehow, in the space of just a few seconds, everything had changed. She didn’t shrink from Bobby as he brushed her lips with his own, then pressed them against hers with unconcealed yearning.
He’s doing it, Beverly thought. And then she remembered what he had said about her. He thinks I’m beautiful.
Bobby put his arms around her, drawing her closer ever so gently. And he kept on kissing her, which was good because she wanted to keep kissing him back.
Suddenly, Beverly felt a tickle in her throat. She tried to subdue it, contain it, but she couldn’t. In a single breath, it grew too urgent to deny.
Had she yielded to it right away, it might only have been a polite little cough. But her attempt to stifle it had transformed it into something else, something harsh and ragged and ultimately more burp than anything.
Surprised, Bobby pulled back and looked at her, wide-eyed. Beverly wanted to hide, to crawl out of sight. But there on the plain between the colony and the mountains, there was nowhere to hide.
Abruptly, Bobby laughed-and unexpectedly, Beverly found herself laughing with him. It took all the air out of the situation, relieving her embarrassment.
Then Bobby’s smile faded and he gazed at her as if he wanted to kiss her again, burp or no burp. But before he could move, something happened in the sky.
The first Beverly saw of it was in Bobby’s face, pinpoints of light appearing in the dark parts of his eyes. Turning then, she saw it for herself-a thick streak of golden fire falling from the heights of the dark blue heavens.
She muttered something, an expression of incredulity and terror. A moment later the streak of fire struck the earth beyond the hills, making the ground shiver beneath the girl’s feet.
“What was that?” Bobby breathed.
Beverly shook her head, her knees weak with a mixture of fear and-unexpectedly- excitement. “I don’t know,” she said, “but we’ve got to get back to the colony.”
“There it is,” said Beverly’s grandmother, pointing to a spot among the darkened hills.
Beverly, who was standing beside her in their sleek standard-issue suborbital craft, strained to see through its forward observation port. “Where?” she asked.
“More to your right,” said Felisa Howard.
The girl made the adjustment-and with a shock of morbid fascination, spotted the ship. She was lying at the end of a long, violent furrow in a shallow valley, as