Authors: K.C. Frederick
The 14th Day (37 page)
“It's that boat,” Vaniok points toward the light near the opposite shore but the music has already faded. “He has a radio.”
“Vaniok,” Lora suddenly asks, her voice quiet, serious, “what do you think is going to happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, to the country.”
He shakes his head. “I don't know,” he says. “I really don't know.”
They're silent a long time. The music is no longer audible. Then Lora asks, “Do you believe in UFO's?” There have been a lot of stories about recent sightings
.
“I don't know.” Vaniok is still looking at the place the plane has vacated. “It's hard to say what's really true sometimes.”
Lora's voice is quiet. “I think I saw one once.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I was up late one night in the winter, I couldn't sleep, and I looked out our back window and I saw something really strange.”
He nods. “Well, it could be.”
“They scare me, Vaniok.”
He pulls her closer. “You mean you think there might be big-headed creatures with fish scales on their bodies and ray-guns that are going to blast us all away?”
She shakes her head. “No, not that. It's just ⦔
“Yes?”
She looks at the sky full of stars, then down again. “I know everybody says there's life on other planets, on a lot of other planets.”
“That's what they say. Statistically, I suppose it's very likely.”
“I know that and I accept that,” she says. “But still. I suppose what I'm saying is that I don't like it; I don't have to like it.” Vaniok listens, nodding encouragingly. “I saw this man on TV one night,” she says, “a scientist with a little beard and a small mouth, and what I didn't like, he seemed to be so happy when he kept saying, oh, yes, there are plenty of other creatures around. âWithout a doubt,' he kept saying, âthere's life in millions of places.' And a lot of them are more advanced than we are, he said. Without a doubt. He seemed so happy about that, like he thought we were such dummies.”
Vaniok says nothing. He can feel the tension in the muscles of her arm. “I mean,” she goes on, “if that's so, what does that make us, me and you, doesn't that make us so little, so ⦠I don't know.” She looks up at the sky again and he can see from the tilt in her head the resentment she feels
.
“I see what you mean,” he says. “Remember, I'm a younger brother myself.”
“Yes,” she laughs. “You hate to look up into that night sky and think it's crowded with older brothers and sisters.”
“Hey, you things up there.” Vaniok shakes his fist at the emerging stars. “Don't try to crowd Lora, O.K., or I'll make you pay for it.” From across the water a snatch of the waltz comes to them, the faraway multiplied voices sounding like a chorus of answering angels, and they both laugh
.
Lora is silent for a while. “It's just that ⦠you want someone to know you were here, you don't want to ⦠get lost in all that.” She makes a gesture at the stars
.
Vaniok thinks of her working in the nearby town, in a waitress' uniform, a pad and pencil in her hand, worrying about all those creatures crowding her out, dreaming of going somewhere else. “I'm always going to know you were here, Lora,” he says. “Always.”
She says nothing. A puff of breeze comes off the water, bringing a slight chill. Running his hand along her shoulder he can feel that she's left him for a moment. “You want to be remembered,” she says. “That's all you want.”
Yes, Vaniok thinks. The fish flies haven't even appeared yet and already he feels the sense of mystery, of an open future. This strange, oddly unattractive and irresistible woman Lora. Is there a future between them? It's something he's only beginning to imagine and he has no idea how things will turn out. But here on the dock at this moment full of mystery and dread, he wouldn't trade his life for anyone's
.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2000 by K. C. Frederick
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2394-8
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