The Wind From a Burning Woman: Six Stories of Science Fiction by Greg Bear Page B

outside. This disturbed Michael, whod expected instant vengeance. I was too curious and worried to take my revenge on him, so he sulked out the screen door and chased the cat around the house. Lock you in a coffin! he screamed.
    Moms voice drifted from behind the louvered doors. Do you hear that? The poor childs going to have nightmares. Itll warp him.
    Dont exaggerate, Dad said.
    Exaggerate what? That those filthy people are back? Ben, they must be a hundred years old now! Theyre trying to do the same thing to your son that they did to your brother... and just look at him! Living in sin, writing for those hell-spawned girlie magazines.
    He aint living in sin, hes living alone in an apartment in New York City. And he writes for all kinds of places.
    They tried to do it to you, too! Just thank God your aunt saved you.
    Margie, I hope you dont intend
    Certainly do. She knows all about them kind of people. She chased them off once, she can sure do it again!
    All hell had broken loose. I didnt understand half of it, but I could feel the presence of Great Aunt Sybil Danser. I could almost hear her crackling voice and the shustle of her satchel of Billy Grahams and Zondervans and little tiny pamphlets with shining light in blue offset on their covers.
    I knew there was no way to get the full story from the folks short of listening in, but theyd stopped talking and were sitting in that stony kind of silence that indicated Dads disgust and Moms determination. I was mad that nobody was blaming me, as if I were some idiot child not capable of being bad on my own. I was mad at Michael for precipitating the whole mess.
    And I was curious. Were the man and the woman more than a hundred years old? Why hadnt I seen them before, in town, or heard about them from other kids? Surely I wasnt the only one theyd seen on the road and told stories to. I decided to get to the source. I walked up to the louvered doors and leaned my cheek against them. Can I go play at Georges?
    Yes, Mom said. Be back for evening chores.
    George lived on the next farm, a mile and a half east. I took my bike and rode down the old dirt road going south.
    They were both under the tree, eating a picnic lunch from a wicker basket. I pulled my bike over and leaned it against the grey rock, shading my eyes to see them more clearly.
    Hello, boy, the old man said. Aint seen you in a while.
    I couldnt think of anything to say. The woman offered me a cookie, and I refused with a muttered, No, thank you, maam.
    Well then, perhaps youd like to tell us your story.
    No, maam.
    No story to tell us? Thats odd. Meg was sure you had a story in you someplace. Peeking out from behind your ears maybe, thumbing its nose at us.
    The woman smiled ingratiatingly. Tea?
    Theres going to be trouble, I said.
    Already? The woman smoothed the skirt in her lap and set a plate of nut bread into it. Well, it comes sooner or later, this time sooner. What do you think of it, boy?
    I think I got into a lot of trouble for not much being bad, I said. I dont know why.
    Sit down, then, the old man said. Listen to a tale, then tell us whats going on.
    I sat down, not too keen about hearing another story but out of politeness. I took a piece of nut bread and nibbled on it as the woman sipped her tea and cleared her throat. Once there was a city on the shore of a broad blue sea. In the city lived five hundred children and nobody else, because the wind from the sea wouldnt let anyone grow old. Well, children dont have kids of their own, of course, so when the wind came up in the first year the city never grew any larger.
    Whered all the grown-ups go? I asked. The old man held his fingers to his lips and shook his head.
    The children tried to play all day, but it wasnt enough. They became frightened at night and had bad dreams. There was nobody to comfort them because only grown-ups are really good at making nightmares go away. Now, sometimes nightmares are white horses that come out of the sea, so they set up