Oberheim (Voices) | Page 4

on a beach, broken and swept away by the waves. But maybe if there was a stone in its center, hard and sharp and black.....
"Well, at least you're no spy." He said it matter-of-factly, as if the question had been understood between them. "And you've a bit of spunk. Not much perhaps, but a bit." He winked at her halfheartedly, the graying father once more. "You must be tired."
"Yes."
He led her to the second chamber, gave her a thin mat against the hard floor, which he placed a short distance from his own. Then he fetched the boy out from between consoles, and set him on the mat beside her. He extinguished all but a soft bluish light, and lay down himself. He turned away.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly.
"I used to be a minister." Again the short, bitter laugh. "Now I don't know who I am. Just don't call me Moses."
He said no more, and they slept.
*
"How could they do such a thing?" They sat again on opposite sides of the table, drinking coffee and eating a meager breakfast. With the night passed and the boy off playing, she hoped she would find him more talkative.
"What, the great white hopefuls? Simple. There was no one to stop them."
"But why? when they brought us here in the first place?" He chewed a stale biscuit, and for a time did not answer.
"Don't ask me to explain the Minority Homestead Act. It was created by another government, and would take a week."
"But the killing---"
"Every expansionist power needs a hate-group within its own boundaries, someone to blame for their own fears and failures. Someone for the violent but inexperienced to cut their teeth on. Hating the Jews is no longer fashionable, and there aren't enough of them here. We were obvious, so they picked us instead."
"Surely it's not that simple."
"Of course not," he said irritably. "We represented old fears and religious prejudice, the 'mark of Cain' and all that brutal bullshit. We still had money and pride when their debt-based economy crashed..... This is pointless; figure it out for yourself. I don't want to know their reasons, only what I can do about it." He fell silent, hard and cold. She said no more.
At that moment the boy came running out of the back and climbed quickly onto the bench beside her. Tears were in his eyes, and she put her arm around him. He buried his head against her, peeped out at the man, then buried it again.
"Look after him, will you? I'm going out for a while." The man rose, switched off the shield and went to the entrance.
"Wait," she called after him. "I still don't know your name."
"My name is Lawrence." He was gone.
The boy drew back and looked up at her, no longer frightened but now tired and curious.
"Well that's better. You don't have to be afraid of me." He looked at her and chewed his finger. She returned his gaze and smiled. "What's your name?"
"Johnny Harris." His leg kicked gently out over the side. She patted him on the head, then went to look for some paper.
The man went down between the high walls of the gap, coming out at the twin faces of the cliffs. Turning right, he skirted the huge southern promontory till he came a scree hill, rising still higher toward the frozen peaks beyond. Here, some two hundred yards further up, a four foot tunnel, shaded by a boulder, led deep into the mountainside. Stooping to enter, he walked till he was weary and stiff with a sharp pain in his back, then walked much farther.
*
It was late evening, darkening to full night. Two men walked through the opening with the shield still dissipating. The familiar face came first, then to her dismay the woman saw that the stranger was white. He studied her as they approached, with the same hard cold gleam as the other.
"I don't know," he said, turning to the guerrilla. "She has the looks, but not much grit, seemingly. The face is much too soft."
Lawrence said nothing, hung his coat on a peg by the wall. She half expected him to draw out a hidden knife and bury it in the white man's back. But the two stood side by side, and she realized that she was the outsider, the one in question. The tall, fair-haired man stood looking her up and down like a slave at auction. She got angry.
"What am I, a piece of meat?"
"Shut up and get us some water," said the black man. She turned on him, furious.
"How dare you talk to me like that? How dare you? And if you think you're going to turn me over to this Nazi---" She ran to the wall and grabbed the laser rifle, pointed it right at him.
But