Kate Wilhelm in Orbit - Volume Two by Kate Wilhelm

only bird songs and an occasional rustling in the undergrowth. There was a cool, mossy glen, where the air was tinted blue by a profusion of wild morning glories that never closed in the shadows. Very deliberately and gently Eliot made love to Beatrice in the glen.
    She lay on her back with her eyes closed, a small smile on her face. “I feel like a woods nymph, doing what I have to do, without a thought in the world. My brain’s on vacation.”
    He ran his finger over her cheek. She was humming. With a chill Eliot realized that she was humming “Ten Little Indians.”
    That afternoon Eliot made some preliminary notes:
    Any eschatological system, whether religious, mathemati­cal, physical, or simply theoretical for purposes of analogies is counter to the world as it exists. Experimental bias, observer effect, by whatever name science would call it, the addition of life in a universe reverses the entropic nature of matter. Eschatology can validly be applied only to inert mat­ter; the final dispersion of the atoms in a uniform, energyless universe is a reformulation of what others have called the death wish. Since man rose from the same inert matter, this pull or drive or simple tendency exerts its purpose in every cell of his being. But with the random chemical reaction that brought life to the lifeless, another, stronger drive was created. The double helix is the perfect symbol for this new, not to be denied drive that manifests in rebirth, renewal, in an ever-widening spiral of growth and change…
    “Eliot!” Lee’s voice jolted him awake. “Pitcock’s missing. We can’t find him anywhere.”
    “Where have you looked?” Eliot hurried out to join Lee. “Where’s Bonner?”
    “He went to check out the office building. We went through the house, then the ruins. He likes to prowl among them. I looked in on Beatrice. I thought he might be with you.”
    “Okay. Check out the other houses. I’ll take the beach, work back through the stones toward his house.”
    Two hours until it would be dark, two hours, plenty of time to find him. Not in the woods, but among the dead rocks. A quarter of a mile of jumbled rocks, fan-shaped, narrowed at the ruins, spreading out at the water’s edge, piled higher there with deeper cracks between them. Eliot zigzagged from the edge of the water to the ruins, back to the water. He called, and the whispering sea mocked him. From a distance he could hear Lee’s voice calling. A catbird practiced Lee’s shout, then gave it up and trilled sweetly. Eliot stopped abruptly. He strained to hear, then began working his way more slowly toward a high place where six of the massive stones had been piled up. “I’m coming, Pit.” He couldn’t be certain now if he had heard the old man or not. He searched frantically but carefully among the bases. Here the water lapped at the rocks with every third or fourth wave. The tide was turning.
    “Eliot.”
    This time he knew he had heard. He found the old man lying in an unnatural position, his shoulders and his hips not in line. Pitcock was very pale, but conscious. His voice was a faint whisper.
    “Can’t move, Eliot. Back’s hurt.”
    “Okay. Take it easy, Pit. We’ll get you out of here.” Eliot clambered back up the rocks and yelled for Lee. An answer came back faintly, and he waited until Lee was closer. “Bring a stretcher, a door, something to carry him on.” Lee appeared at the head of the rocks and waved. “Tell Bonner to get the launch ready. Mrs. Bonner to call the hospital.” Lee waved again and ran toward Pitcock’s house. Eliot returned to the old man.
    There was nothing he could do now. He found his handkerchief and wiped Pitcock’s face gently. He was perspiring hard.
    “Heard someone crying. Couldn’t find her. Slipped…”
    “Don’t talk now, Pit. Save it. Your pulse is good. It’s not serious, I’m sure. Rest.”
    “Eliot, don’t send me over tonight. Isn’t fair, not now. Get me back to the house. Help me