Tim struggled painfully to his feet. His mouth was bleeding. His vision blurred. He hung on tight to the wall. "Look," he muttered. "For God's sake—"
The captain was staring into the kitchen. "Is that—is that food?" He advanced slowly through the dining room. "Look!"
The other soldiers came after him, Mary and the children forgotten. They stood around the table, amazed.
"Look at it!"
"Coffee." One grabbed up the pot and drank it greedily down. He choked, black coffee dripping down his tunic. "Hot. Jeeze. Hot coffee."
"Cream!" Another soldier tore open the refrigerator. "Look. Milk. Eggs. Butter. Meat." His voice broke. "It's full of food."
The captain disappeared into the pantry. He came out, lugging a case of canned peas. "Get the rest. Get it all. We'll load it in the snake."
He dropped the case on the table with a crash. Watching Tim intently, he fumbled in his dirty tunic until he found a cigarette. He lit it slowly, not taking his eyes from Tim. "All right," he said. "Let's hear what you have to say."
Tim's mouth opened and closed. No words came. His mind was blank. Dead. He couldn't think.
"This food. Where'd you get it? And these things." The captain waved around the kitchen. "Dishes. Furniture. How come this house hasn't been hit? How did you survive last night's attack?"
"I—" Tim gasped.
The captain came toward him ominously. "The woman. And the kids. All of you. What are you doing here?" His voice was hard. "You better be able to explain, mister. You better be able to explain what you're doing here—or we'll have to burn the whole damn lot of you."
Tim sat down at the table. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to focus his mind. His body ached. He rubbed blood from his mouth, conscious of a broken molar and bits of loose tooth. He got out a handkerchief and spat the bits into it. His hands were shaking.
"Come on," the captain said.
Mary and the children slipped into the room. Judy was crying. Virginia's face was blank with shock. Earl stared wide-eyed at the soldiers, his face white.
"Tim," Mary said, putting her hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"
Tim nodded. "I'm all right."
Mary pulled her dress around her. "Tim, they can't get away with it. Somebody'll come. The mailman. The neighbors. They can't just—"
"Shut up," the captain snapped. His eyes flickered oddly. "The mailman? What are you talking about?" He held out his hand. "Let's see your yellow slip, sister."
"Yellow slip?" Mary faltered.
The captain rubbed his jaw. "No yellow slip. No masks. No cards."
"They're geeps," a soldier said.
"Maybe. And maybe not."
"They're geeps, Captain. We better burn 'em. We can't take any chances."
"There's something funny going on here," the captain said. He plucked at his neck, lifting up a small box on a cord. "I'm getting a polic here."
"A polic?" A shiver moved through the soldiers. "Wait, Captain. We can handle this. Don't get a polic. He'll put us on 4 and then we'll never—"
The captain spoke into the box. "Give me Web B."
Tim looked up at Mary. "Listen, honey. I—"
"Shut up." A soldier prodded him. Tim lapsed into silence.
The box squawked. "Web B."
"Can you spare a polic? We've run into something strange. Group of five. Man, woman, three kids. No masks, no cards, the woman not stung, dwelling completely intact. Furniture, fixtures, and about two hundred pounds of food."
The box hesitated. "All right. Polic on his way. Stay there. Don't let them escape."
"I won't." The captain dropped the box back in his shirt. "A polic will be here any minute. Meanwhile, let's get the food loaded."
From outside came a deep thundering roar. It shook the house, rattling the dishes in the cupboard.
"Jeez," a soldier said. "That was close."
"I hope the screens hold until nightfall." The captain grabbed up the case of canned peas. "Get the rest. We want it loaded before the polic comes."
The two soldiers filled their arms and followed him through the house, out the front door. Their voices diminished as they strode down the path.
Tim got to his feet. "Stay here," he said thickly.
"What are you doing?" Mary asked nervously.
"Maybe I can get out." He ran to the back door and unlatched it, hands shaking. He pulled the door wide and stepped out on the back porch. "I don't see any of them. If we can only ..."
He stopped.
Around him gray clouds blew. Gray ash, billowing as far as he could see. Dim shapes were visible. Broken shapes, silent and unmoving in the grayness.
Ruins.
Ruined buildings. Heaps of rubble. Debris everywhere. He walked slowly down the back steps. The concrete walk ended abruptly. Beyond it, slag and heaps of rabble were strewn. Nothing else. Nothing as far as the eye could see.
Nothing stirred. Nothing moved. In the gray silence there was no life. No motion. Only the clouds of drifting ash. The slag and the endless heaps.
The city was gone. The buildings were destroyed. Nothing remained. No people. No life. Jagged walls, empty and gaping. A few dark weeds growing among the debris. Tim bent down, touching a weed. Rough, thick stalk. And the slag. It was metal slag. Melted metal. He straightened up—
"Come back inside," a crisp voice said.
He turned numbly. A man stood on the porch, behind him, hands on his hips. A small man, hollow-cheeked. Eyes small and bright, like two black coals. He wore a uniform different from the soldiers'. His mask was pushed back, away from his face. His skin was yellow, faintly luminous, clinging to his cheekbones. A sick face, ravaged by fever and fatigue.
"Who are you?" Tim said.
"Douglas. Political Commissioner Douglas."
"You're—you're the polic," Tim said.
"That's right. Now come inside. I expect to hear some answers from you. I have quite a few questions.
"The first thing I want to know," Commissioner Douglas said, "is how this house escaped destruction."
Tim and Mary and the children sat together on the couch, silent and unmoving, faces blank with shock.
"Well?" Douglas demanded.
Tim found his voice. "Look," he said. "I don't know. I don't know anything. We woke up this morning like every other morning. We dressed and ate breakfast—"
"It was foggy out," Virginia said. "We looked out and saw the fog."
"And the radio wouldn't work," Earl said.
"The radio?" Douglas' thin face twisted. "There haven't been any audio signals in months. Except for government purposes. This house. All of you. I don't understand. If you were geeps—"
"Geeps. What does that mean?" Mary murmured.
"Soviet general-purpose troops."
"Then the war has begun."
"North America was attacked two years ago," Douglas said. "In 1978."
Tim sagged. "1978. Then this is 1980." He reached suddenly into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and tossed it to Douglas. "Look in there."
Douglas opened the wallet suspiciously. "Why?"
"The library card. The parcel receipts. Look at the dates." Tim turned to Mary. "I'm beginning to understand now. I had an idea when I saw the ruins."
"Are we winning?" Earl piped.
Douglas studied Tim's wallet intently. "Very interesting. These are all old. Seven and eight years." His eyes flickered. "What are you trying to say? That you came from the past? That you're time travelers?"
The captain came back inside. "The snake is all loaded, sir."