“Five days? Five days from what? What are you saying?”
“On Earth it’s been only five days since we disappeared.” Jill shivered and Nate rubbed his hands up and down her arms. Like Denton, the two of them were dressed only in their own clothes, with no coat or other covering to keep out the cold. “I’d be happy to explain, only first we need to get somewhere warm.”
“Five days?” Handalman repeated, sounding wistful. “I left Hannah less than two weeks ago?”
“There’s only two of ’em in the house. We might be able to take them.” Denton grinned, loving the fact that he actually meant it. Heck, why not? If they could dig up a couple of two-by-fours or even heavy branches, they might have a shot. It was better than freezing.
“No, the last thing we need is to attract attention,” Jill said. “We’ll have to find someplace else for now. There must be more houses down the road. Or we might find a barn or something.”
“We can’t carry him very far.” Aharon pointed out the obvious—the prone and massive guy at their feet.
“Well, we can’t leave him,” Jill said flatly.
“What if we came back for him? Maybe we’ll find a car.” Denton suggested.
“What if he wakes up and takes off while we’re gone?” Jill shook her head, teeth chattering. “We n-need him. Besides, he knows about the gateway, now, too. N-nate?”
Nate was still rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “Jill’s right. Maybe we could take turns carrying him. I’ll go first.”
Denton hated to be a downer, but he didn’t think there was any way Nate was going to be able to carry the guy by himself. He would offer; his chances weren’t much better. Even the four of them had had difficulty.
Before Nate could even attempt it, the headlights of a car appeared far off down the highway. They watched the car approach, fast at first, then slowing.
“I say we go for it,” Denton said.
“We don’t even know who it is!” Jill protested.
Denton couldn’t care less who it was—they needed that car. But it was going to be gone before he could get to the road at this rate. That was where decision by committee got you. They’d argue about it and it would be gone. But… no, the car was slowing. It looked like it was going to pull into Anatoli’s house, but it passed it at a good clip, then decelerated quickly. It rolled to a stop at the side of the road, close to the trees, about two hundred yards away. The headlights went out.
“Okay,” Denton said cheerfully. “I vote for a carjacking. Anyone with me?”
“I’ll go,” Aharon grunted. “As long as we don’t kill anyone. I draw the line at murder.”
Jill nodded. “Nate, go with them. I’ll stay here with Farris.”
“No, you guys go,” Nate told Denton. “I don’t want to leave her alone with him.”
“But I have his gun.” Jill patted her pocket.
Nate didn’t answer, but Denton knew he wasn’t going to leave her with a death commando like Farris, gun or no gun.
“Let’s go, Rabbi,” Denton said.
Aharon was trying to keep up with the goy—Wyle—but was still having difficulty assimilating the current situation. In truth, he had a lot of sympathy for the man on the ground back there, even if he was a government agent. It would be easy—yes, it would be nice—to roll his eyes back in his head and check out. Because, look, the brain was only designed to handle so much. And his brain—maybe it was due to advanced age, but it had had more surprises than it cared to deal with.
One thing kept him relatively coherent and moving: that if he really was back on Earth, if all this wasn’t going to be snatched away from him at any moment, then there was a possibility that he might get home, that his wife and his children were only half a world away. Why, they were within reach of a simple airplane ride. God had given him another chance. Talk about your miracles.
He hurried his steps to keep up with Wyle. Aharon felt amazingly light on his feet, his body practically bouncing after the bone-grinding pressure of Fiori, and his heart was lightening step-by-step as well.
Someone was getting out of the car up ahead, a small figure. He and Denton, well, they weren’t exactly quiet. If subtlety had been part of the plan, they were failing miserably. But it was dark outside. The lone figure did not turn in their direction. From what Aharon could make out, there was no one else in the car, either.
He remembered, then, that they had no plan. What were they going to do, talk the person to death? Jump them? Ask nicely if they would mind giving up their car? Aharon didn’t like the idea of violence now that he could see the figure was not large and threatening. He intended to say so to Wyle, except they were almost upon this person. And Aharon realized that, yes, Wyle was going to jump the driver. What had happened to this timid young man?
Just before Denton pounced, the figure heard them and turned. It was wearing a sweatshirt with a hood and the face was barely visible in the dim moonlight. It wasn’t much, but then, how much does a man need after fifteen years of marriage?
“Hannah!”
He thought he had shouted it, but it came out as a whisper. Her eyes grew large as she stared at him. And then he grabbed her up and she was in his arms.
For a brief moment Aharon held her, felt the soft weight of her pressed tightly to him—blue jeans?—his face against this strange cotton hood, his heart pounding with joy and disbelief. And then she was pushing him away, her pretty face scowling.
“Aharon Handalman, where have you been?” She was seriously angry, spoiling for a fight. But as she got her first good look at him, her eyes widened with fear. “Oh, my heavens, Aharon, what happened?”
He was wearing a heavy Fiorian robe, which no doubt had its own aroma. And he knew he had changed a great deal physically. He must look an impossible sight, like a ghost maybe. But he wouldn’t let her push him away. He cupped her face with his hands, reassuring her with low sounds until she calmed. Only then did he let his own gaze wander up and down.
She was complaining about him? Hannah Handalman, a respectable Orthodox rebbetzin and mother of three, was wearing blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a gray hooded sweatshirt. He had never seen anything so wonderful in his life.
She glanced at Wyle and pulled away. “Don’t start with me, Aharon. I know, I know, what you think. It’s terrible that I came, a horrible invasion of your privacy, your work, and so on and so on. But what was I supposed to do when the man came to the house and said—”
“Who?” Aharon asked sharply.
“M-Mr. Norowitz,” Hannah said nervously. “He told me they’d tracked you here and then lost you. He wanted to know where you were, if I’d heard from you. When I realized you were missing… that even they had no idea where you were… what was I to do? I had to come see for myself if I could help or… something. Aharon!”
Her face looked so stricken and he realized, with a terrible feeling, that her relief at seeing him, and even her anger, had been subsumed by something else—fear of his reprisal. She, his own wife, was afraid of him. What kind of person had he been?
“Hannah.” He pulled her to him, realizing anew, from the sensation of her under his hands, how small his wife was, really, how slight, how tender, how brave. “Do you think I could be angry? I’ve never been so glad of anything as I am to see you. How could I feel anything but joy? I love you, Hannah! My precious jewel!”
He kissed her face, her astonished little face. She had that set look in her eyebrows, the look of a wife who knows for certain that an alien has taken over the body of her husband. She snuck a glance at Wyle, as if wondering how Aharon could dare touch her, kiss her like this in front of another person, and a stranger also. It brought him back to his senses a little. He dropped his hands, his fingers brushing the cottony hood now hanging down her back.