the residents.
Like the Davniadses’ drive, the crown of the road was clear.
Click … click … crunch …
My steps sounded louder in my ears than they probably did in fact, but the sound spurred me to set my feet more carefully on the downgrade.
Once I reached the sweeping ninety-degree turn above our driveway, I stopped and listened. Silence, but that didn’t mean anything. Not where the ConFed Marines were concerned. I edged off the road and into the snow-covered grassy depression that was almost a ditch—on the opposite side of the road. Stepping through the snow, I kept my
head low. Before long, I reached the point across the road from the low stone pillars that marked our drive.
Whhhsttt … whssssss …
Only the whisper of the wind broke the stillness—that and the sound of my breath.
Was there still a guard by the pillars? A marine detachment watching the smoldering ruins of the house built by my great-great-grandfather?
I glanced toward the pillars, but could see nothing but two smudges of gray against the shadows of the evergreen hedge and the overhanging trees. As I strained to make out whether there was a guard posted, the dream impression of the red-blue, gold-black intersection returned, somehow right behind my eyes, even closer than in my dreams.
Crack.
The sound had come from behind me. I could feel eyes on my back, and I grasped in some way for the dark intersection, knowing that only that could save me, if anything could.
Without understanding how, I was on the other side of the black curtain, seeing through a veil the snow-drifted depression where the three marines looked down on a set of footprints that came from nowhere and went nowhere.
From that no-time place, I could hear nothing, but one of the ConFeds made the ward gesture from the Verlyt rites. Another had a shredder aimed at where I would have been, where I had been instants before.
Suspended there, I dared not move, not that I could. So I watched as the three marines stomped through and around where I had been. Finally, one followed my tracks backward until they reached the hard stones of the road and disappeared.
My unplanned disappearance in plain sight might lift suspicion from Allyson and her family, since I hoped that the marines would not walk hundreds of rods back uphill and through the Davniadses’ courtyard to compare footsteps in the snow. At least, I hoped I had left no tracks in the snow between the two places.
As I hung out of time, waiting, a marine reappeared with an officer, a tall and burly man. The marine pointed to my footprints, gesturing, then shaking his head. The burly man seemed to be exasperated, doing some pointing himself, jabbing a finger toward the marine, who kept backing up.
Even though I could feel nothing where I was suspended, I could tell that I was getting tired. The veil, or curtain, seemed to flicker in front of my eyes. What could I do?
My thoughts jumped back to the ConFed Marines guarding the house, and as they did, the scene through the black curtain wavered, then refocused, and I was standing in the orchard, still behind the curtain of time or place. But this time I knew that as soon as I willed it, I could be in the orchard.
With the marine tents, and the row of coffins laid out, some drifted over with snow, I did not want to reappear there. Not at all.
The Academy? No …
Finally, I concentrated on a place where I used to hike with Mother—the Long Wall Trail above the town, on the far side of Bremarlyn. I knew I could not go very far, but I had to go somewhere.
I thought, hard, and tried to visualize the trail and the way station, especially the way station, the one-windowed old log cabin.
Crrshhh … thud …
Sprawled on the trail, perhaps fifty rods from the way station, I looked around quickly. By now, the dim light of predawn lent everything a ghostly aura.
Chiichiii … chchiichii … An enormous grossjay stared down from the overhead branch at the interloper
Like the Davniadses’ drive, the crown of the road was clear.
Click … click … crunch …
My steps sounded louder in my ears than they probably did in fact, but the sound spurred me to set my feet more carefully on the downgrade.
Once I reached the sweeping ninety-degree turn above our driveway, I stopped and listened. Silence, but that didn’t mean anything. Not where the ConFed Marines were concerned. I edged off the road and into the snow-covered grassy depression that was almost a ditch—on the opposite side of the road. Stepping through the snow, I kept my
head low. Before long, I reached the point across the road from the low stone pillars that marked our drive.
Whhhsttt … whssssss …
Only the whisper of the wind broke the stillness—that and the sound of my breath.
Was there still a guard by the pillars? A marine detachment watching the smoldering ruins of the house built by my great-great-grandfather?
I glanced toward the pillars, but could see nothing but two smudges of gray against the shadows of the evergreen hedge and the overhanging trees. As I strained to make out whether there was a guard posted, the dream impression of the red-blue, gold-black intersection returned, somehow right behind my eyes, even closer than in my dreams.
Crack.
The sound had come from behind me. I could feel eyes on my back, and I grasped in some way for the dark intersection, knowing that only that could save me, if anything could.
Without understanding how, I was on the other side of the black curtain, seeing through a veil the snow-drifted depression where the three marines looked down on a set of footprints that came from nowhere and went nowhere.
From that no-time place, I could hear nothing, but one of the ConFeds made the ward gesture from the Verlyt rites. Another had a shredder aimed at where I would have been, where I had been instants before.
Suspended there, I dared not move, not that I could. So I watched as the three marines stomped through and around where I had been. Finally, one followed my tracks backward until they reached the hard stones of the road and disappeared.
My unplanned disappearance in plain sight might lift suspicion from Allyson and her family, since I hoped that the marines would not walk hundreds of rods back uphill and through the Davniadses’ courtyard to compare footsteps in the snow. At least, I hoped I had left no tracks in the snow between the two places.
As I hung out of time, waiting, a marine reappeared with an officer, a tall and burly man. The marine pointed to my footprints, gesturing, then shaking his head. The burly man seemed to be exasperated, doing some pointing himself, jabbing a finger toward the marine, who kept backing up.
Even though I could feel nothing where I was suspended, I could tell that I was getting tired. The veil, or curtain, seemed to flicker in front of my eyes. What could I do?
My thoughts jumped back to the ConFed Marines guarding the house, and as they did, the scene through the black curtain wavered, then refocused, and I was standing in the orchard, still behind the curtain of time or place. But this time I knew that as soon as I willed it, I could be in the orchard.
With the marine tents, and the row of coffins laid out, some drifted over with snow, I did not want to reappear there. Not at all.
The Academy? No …
Finally, I concentrated on a place where I used to hike with Mother—the Long Wall Trail above the town, on the far side of Bremarlyn. I knew I could not go very far, but I had to go somewhere.
I thought, hard, and tried to visualize the trail and the way station, especially the way station, the one-windowed old log cabin.
Crrshhh … thud …
Sprawled on the trail, perhaps fifty rods from the way station, I looked around quickly. By now, the dim light of predawn lent everything a ghostly aura.
Chiichiii … chchiichii … An enormous grossjay stared down from the overhead branch at the interloper
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