The Gorgon Field by Kate Wilhelm Page A

“That’s what scares me.” He never had doubted her, never had thought of her with another man, never had a moment’s cloud of jealousy obscure his vision of her. And he knew she felt the same way about him. Their trust in each other was absolute, but… He knew there were areas in her psychic landscape that he could not enter, areas where she walked alone, and he knew that when she walked those infinite and infinitely alien paths, the things that occupied her mind were also alien and would not permit translation into his mundane world. Standing close to her in the warm sunlight, a gleaming lake at one side of them, luxurious buildings all around, cars, helicopters, computers, servants by the score available, he felt alone, abandoned, lost. She was beyond reach even though her hand was on his arm.
    He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. “It’s, your party.”
    She blinked rapidly. “We should go back to the house. Tony scares me right now.”
    They stopped when Tony and Deborah came into view, heading for the area behind the boathouse. Tony was carrying a rifle; Deborah was almost running to keep up, clutching his arm.
    She saw Charlie and Constance and turned to them instead. Tony continued, stony-faced.
    “What’s up?” Charlie asked pleasantly.
    “He’s going to do target practice. Kill time.” She laughed with a tinge of hysteria in her voice.
    “Well, I’m looking for a drink,” he said, so relaxed and quiet that he appeared lazy.
    She walked with them, studying the path they were on. “Tony’s so much like Father. It’s uncanny how alike they are.”
    They all started a few seconds later when a shot sounded, echoing and chasing itself around the granite walls of the valley for a long time.
    “He’s as violent as Father must have been when he was younger,” Deborah said as they started to walk again. “More so maybe. Father is said to have killed a man back in the twenties. I don’t know how true it is, but it doesn’t really matter. People who tell the story know it was quite possible. He would kill to protect his interests, his family. And so would Tony.”
    “So would I,” Charlie commented.
    Constance shivered.
    Another shot exploded the quiet and then several more in quick succession. It sounded like thunder in the valley. They paused at the house, listening, feeling the vibrations in the air, and then entered.
    The fountain splashed; the red tiles on the floor glowed; an orange tree in a pot had opened a bloom or two overnight and filled the air with a heady fragrance. It was very still.
    Deborah paused at the fountain and stared at the water. They had started up the wide stairs; her low voice stopped them.
    “When Tony and I used to come here, we just had each other; we were pretty close in those days. He was Lori’s age when he… when something happened out there. He wouldn’t talk about it. He was ashamed because he ran and left me behind, and everything changed with us after that. Just like with Lori. I don’t think he’s ever gone back. And he shouldn’t go back. That target practice… he claims an eagle has been snatching chickens. He says he’ll shoot it on sight.” She bowed her head lower. “How I’ve prayed for an earthquake to come and shake them all down, turn them to dust!” She jammed her hands into her pockets and walked away without looking back at them.
    In their room Constance watched silently as Charlie unlocked his suitcase and brought out his .38 revolver. She went to the window then. “Charlie, just for a minute accept that there might be some force out there, some power. Tony said places like this are vanishing, remember? He was more right than he knew. They are. What if there are places where you can somehow gain access to the power people sometimes seem to have, like the inhuman strength people sometimes have when there’s an emergency, a fire, or something like that.”
    He made a grunting noise. She continued to look out the window. The sun was