John Rourke stood at the mouth of the cave, his son beside him, Madison with Paul and Natalia.
“I guess I fucked things up.”
Rourke looked at his son. “Welcome to the club.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ahh,” and he sighed loudly, long. “Your mother—she’s angry. More angry than I’ve ever seen her. Because of what I did—using the cryogenic chambers to let you and your sister reach maturity while the rest of us slept.” “It was the only practical thing.”
“Don’t let your mother hear you say that.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“I don’t think so. Maybe it’ll be good in a way— like you said that maybe you’d gotten Madison pregnant. A grandchild—but at her age,” and John Rourke felt himself smile. There was no sign of the enemy but they had already proven they were good at using natural cover. They could be ready to attack again, Rourke realized. “No— maybe a grandchild will help her feel better about herself, but it won’t make her feel better about me.”
“You mean—“
“I don’t know what I mean,” John Rourke answered, looking at his son. It was like staring into a mirror—Michael stood well above six feet, a full shock of dark brown hair, brown eyes, the prominent jaw, but there were fewer lines in his face and unlike John Rourke, not yet a trace of gray. “I thought we might have lost you. But I’m embarrassed—I should have known you could take care of yourself.”
“It was touch and go there for a while,” his son laughed. “I’m glad you and
Paul—and Natalia— I’m glad you all showed up when you did.” And Michael seemed
to clear his throat, his voice odd-
QO
sounding as he almost whispered. “I was going to kill Madison if I had to.”
“I know that.”
“You would have done the same, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, I would have—and I wouldn’t have liked it any better. This thing, this thing with your mother and with me, well—“ “I figured we could go exploring together—see what’s out there, you know, and—“ “You’re gonna have a family—“ “That never stopped you,” Michael answered.
Rourke looked away and smiled. “No, it never stopped me. Maybe it should have, son—maybe it should have.”
“If Madison is carrying a child, well, there’ll still be time. Before the child comes, after.”
“What—leave the girls at home? You and me— and Paul—“ “Well, sure. Paul, too—he’s your partner and—“ “Best friend I ever had. You are too, but you’re my son. So that allows me to have two best friends. But whatever happens,” and Rourke lit another cigar.
“Well, don’t get into this thing between your mother and me—it wouldn’t be right
for her to think I’d turned you or Annie against her. I never wanted—“
“Doesn’t she realize why you did it—I mean, I know. You set things up so Natalia
and I would, ahh—“
“Am I that transparent?” Rourke laughed.
“Yes, you are—yes.”
Rourke nodded. “I guess I am. But it didn’t work, did ü?”
“You were willing to give up Natalia for your love for Momma.” “You mean I was willing to give up one woman I love for the other woman I love—that doesn’t say a whole hell of a lot for me, does it?”
“But all that time you searched for us and you never—“ v
“No,” Rourke laughed. “I wanted to—God, did I want to. But as long as there was
a chance your mother was alive…”
“I don’t—“
“Your mother and I,” Rourke said softly, exhaling a cloud of the gray cigar smoke, watching it dissipate on the air, then staring at the glowing tip and the ashes as they formed there. “We fell in love with each other—we’re still in love. At least I am. And she is, too—yeah. But, ahh, we were never—well, we were never really friends. I knew this couple once—the guy was a writer. He and his wife—you never saw two people so much in love. But they were buddies, pals—friends. The friendship and the love coexisted. I, ahh, your mother and I—we never—“ and Rourke inhaled hard on the cigar. “What about you and Natalia? Are you friends?”
Rourke looked at his son. “We’re friends. It’s your mother’s play. I’ll do what she wants.”
“What about Natalia if, ahh—“
“Ahh, what?” Rourke smiled. “I don’t know. I
woke up from that second period of cryogenic sleep, ya know? Annie had this dream—said it’s only the second time in her life she remembered a dream, and that she saw you in danger. We oughta listen to that kid more. But I woke up,” Rourke sighed, exhaling the cigar smoke again, watching tt again as the wind caught it and made it dissipate. “Your mother was heartsick—and I decided I’d never try playing God again. I mean I didn’t try this last time—I just tried to do what was right, what was best for all of us. Well, I did that, ya know,” and Rourke snorted loudly, his sinuses bothering him suddenly. “I did what—what I thought and, well, shit,” and he inhaled on the cigar again and opened his eyes wide against the wind. And he felt his son’s hand on his shoulder.
Chapter Forty-Six
Annie Rourke hitched up her skirt as she clambered over the rocks, getting to her feet again, letting her skirt fall, straightening the webbed pistol belt at her right hip, the Detonics Scoremas-ter there in the military flap holster. She could see for miles from here. She had started coming here as a little girl and she had never stopped. She didn’t remember their home at the farm. Perhaps someday they would go back to where it had stood and something she would see would jog loose a memory—she hoped that it would. But the Retreat was the home she had grown up in, was the home in her heart. She dropped to her knees, gathering her skirt under her, leaning back, sitting finally, not taking her eyes off the mountains and the valleys between them. r She was cold as the wind picked up and she hugged her arms to her, huddling more in the quilted coat she had made.
She had never known the company of adults of her own sex—and she wondered if she and Paul came together, would they sometime, someday be drawn apart. She thought of her mother.
The Retreat was not Sarah Rourke’s home. It never would be. She hated it—that was obvious, Annie realized.
She thought of her father and her mother—and she was frightened. She had known nothing else—that Sarah Rourke and John Rourke were husband and wife and that it was forever for them.
Annie Rourke was very cold now. She closed her eyes and saw Paul Rubenstein’s face and couldn’t imagine feeling toward Paul what her mother now felt toward her father. But then for an instant she could imagine it—and she was afraid. She was very afraid and she sat there and stared out at the mountains again, wanting Paul Ruben-stein to say he loved her, to hold her.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The interior air lock door had not taken as long as the exterior door which had been covered with rock.
“I have it, John,” Natalia announced.
Rourke watched her for a moment, then stared at the dismantled locking device.
“They never intended their retreat to be unoccupied.”
“It was never made to be opened from the outside.” Rourke nodded to her. He looked at his son, Madison standing beside him. “You said this second holy book is some sort of diary.” “It looks like that—one of the videotapes had a diary featured in the story, and I read about diaries.”
Rourke nodded. “All right. So we get this second holy book and break the seal and read it.”
“That is forbidden—even to ones like yourselves,” Madison whispered. John Rourke put his hands on the girl’s shoulders, then smiled at her. “Michael tells me the Bible is very important to th£ people here—at least to some of you.”
“That is true.” Madison nodded somberly. “It is all that we read.” “Then isn’t it presumptuous for men—like the ones who head the Families—isn’t it presumptuous for men to add to it, to change it, with some secret book they won’t even read themselves but that supposedly gives them the authority to commit murder every time the population goes over some magic number, year in, year out, to create people like the ones you call Them, to create people who aren’t people anymore, at all?”
“But—“
“I look at the story of Adam and Eve rather differently than most people do. If their aim was to seek knowledge, I don’t see it as a sin. To play games with the devil—that’s wrong. But to want to know, to understand—knowing isn’t evil. It’s what you do with the knowledge. We’ll find that book—you think Natalia’s good on doors, wait ‘til you see her with a safe. We’ll read that book and then we’ll know what really happened here and how to help all the Madisons and all the other people here—or at least we’ll be better able to try. All right, sweetheart?”