“How are you involved?” the cop said.
“He’s a friend,” Edith put in. “He’s here visiting.” The man nodded, his expression showing no surprise at her explanation, like he was used to lying about who he was and what he was doing. She hoped like hell they didn’t ask her for his name.
“He can talk for himself, can’t he?” the cop said. “You have a name?”
The man raised his head. “Merritt Crane.” His voice was cautious.
Edith tried to keep surprise off her face. What was he playing at? The cop caught it too.
“So let me get this straight – you a friend or a relative?” he asked, suspicious now.
“Friend,” she hastened. “Just a coincidence.”
Now the man looked at her, his expression guarded. Secrets, she thought. There are too many secrets for one front yard to handle.
The cop went on. “So you were here for the attack?”
Merritt nodded, a helpful easy attitude. “I just went for a walk down the road a bit, to stretch my legs. I saw him drive up in his ground vehicle, and thought that looked suspicious. Especially after – my friend – here said she was worried he’d try something.”
Ground vehicle. My friend. The cops looked from one to the other. “Right,” one said. “All right, that’s it then. We’ll keep up patrols for the rest of the night. We’ll find him. He won’t go far.”
Edith sat back in the kitchen chair and looked at the stranger. She was exhausted. She smelled of gas and she was covered with bruises. Tears bubbled up just under the surface and with the last of her effort she kept from breaking down into sobs.
“Won’t this night end?” she said. “I don’t think I can take any more.” She looked at him, the crazy stranger who wasn’t so crazy any more. He watched her with concern. She got a good look at him, finally, in the light. Handsome, with a lean face and dark eyes, short dark hair. He looked like he was around her age, early thirties. Her voice shook a little as she asked: “Who are you? Is your last name really Crane? What are you doing here?”
He hesitated and then said, “Yeah. I’m really a Crane. As for what I’m doing here – I don’t know.”
“Why did you come back?” she said.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Something didn’t feel right.”
If he hadn’t come . . . if Sam hadn’t been outnumbered . . . The tears came at last and she covered her face and sobbed, her shoulders heaving. He reached out and put his hand over hers, and squeezed.
“Hey,” he said. “Glad I could help. You did good by yourself.”
“My livelihood – my truck. I don’t know how I can repay you.”
“You don’t have to repay me,” he said, but it sounded as if he had to force the words out. “You just need to tell me. What world is this?”
She was silent for a long time, the ticking of the clock the only sound in the kitchen. If she answered his question, it meant she took him seriously. Edith shook her head. She was too tired to second-guess any more.
“It’s Earth,” she said. “You’re on Earth.”
She watched as comprehension dawned – comprehension and something else. Wonder. Disbelief. Fear. She expected him tosay something but he only said, gently, “Go clean up. I’ll keep watch.”
“Aren’t you tired too?” she said.
He smiled, and it lightened his expression. “The suit’s been keeping me awake. I can push it for a few more hours.”
She couldn’t even protest, just got up and pushed herself away from the table. Then she stopped, remembering something. “Merritt. I’m really sorry I hit you.”
He gave a rueful grin and rubbed his cheek. “I’m sorry I sat on you.”
She laughed despite herself. “Even then.”
“Even.”
Earth. He was on Earth. The Earth Merritt knew was a wasted planet, with seas of glass and dead cities, its oceans boiled away, the losing side in a war with an unstable sun that had gone from even-tempered to angry giant in the cosmic blink of an eye. The arks had left Earth for other star systems aeons before. There were about twenty planets that called themselves Earth, but he didn’t think she meant one of those. She meantEarth.
