Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [102]
The conflict made her think of other things. She wasn't yet thirty, but she was getting there, and what had she done? What was she doing? She couldn't just go on, making a few bucks when Mark was out of work, bopping around the country on a motorcycle. That was a lot of fun, but dammit, she ought to do something serious, one permanent thing …
"I bet I can get the packs set so nobody can see the stove," Mark was saying. "Jo, want to make coffee? Jo?"
Full dawn found Frank and Joanna asleep. Mark smiled as if he'd won a contest. He enjoyed watching dawn break. It didn't happen often enough these days. Today's dawn still carried an elfin light, sunlight faintly thinned and transmuted by gases and dust brought inward from interstellar space.
It occurred to Mark that if he started breakfast now, he could reach a telephone while Harv Randall could be expected to be still at home. Randall had invited him to join the news team on Hot Fudge Tuesdae, but Mark had dithered. He dithered now. He set up the stove and pans for breakfast, debated waking the others; then crawled back into his own bag.
Frying bacon woke him.
"Didn't call Harv, huh?" Joanna said.
Mark stretched elaborately. "Decided I'd rather be watching the news than making it. Know where the best view in the world is right now? Right in front of a television set."
Frank looked at him curiously. He turned his head to indicate the height of the Sun. When Mark didn't get it, he said, "Look at your watch."
It was nearly ten! Joanna laughed at Mark's expression.
"Hell, we'll miss it," Mark complained.
"No point in racing anywhere now," Frank chortled. "Don't worry, they'll be showing instant replays all day."
"We could knock at one of the houses," Mark suggested. But the others laughed at him and Mark admitted he didn't have the guts. They ate quickly, and Mark broke out a bottle of Strawberry Hill wine and passed it around. It tasted perfect, fruity flavor like morning juice, but with some authority.
"Best pack up and—" Frank stopped in midsentence.
There was a bright light over the Pacific. Far away, and very high, and moving downward fast. A very bright light.
The men didn't speak. They just stared. Joanna looked up in alarm when Frank fell silent. She had never seen him startled by anything, and she whirled around quickly, expecting to see Charles Manson running at them with a chain saw. She followed their stare.
A tiny blue-white dwarf sun sank rapidly in the South, setting far beyond the flat blue Pacific horizon. It left a burning trail behind it. In the moment after it was gone, something like a searchlight beam probed back along its path, rose higher, above the cloudless sky.
Then nothing for one, two, three heartbeats.
Mark said, "Hot—"
A white fireball peeked over the edge of the world.
"Fudge Tuesdae. It's real. It's all real." The edge of a giggle was in Mark's voice. "We've got to get moving—"
"Bullshit." Frank used just enough volume to get their attention. "We don't want to be moving when the quakes hit. Lie down. Get your sleeping bag around you. Stay out in the open. Joanna, lie down here. I'll tie you in. Mark, get over there. Further."
Then Frank ran to the bikes. He carefully laid the first one on its side, then rolled the next away from it and laid it down too. He moved quickly and decisively. He came back for the third bike and moved it away.
Three white points glared at them, then winked out, one, two … The third and brightest must have touched down, far to the southeast. Frank glanced at his watch, counting the ticking seconds. Joanna was safe. Mark was safe. Frank brought his own bag and lay near them. He took out dark glasses. So did the others. The bulky sleeping bag made Frank look very fat. The dark glasses made his face unreadable. He lay stretched out on his back with his thick forearms behind his head. "Great view."
"Yeah. The Comet Wardens will love this," Mark said. "I wonder where Harv went? I'm glad I decided not to get up and go join him. We ought