The explosion had brought everyone in the ranch house bolt upright in their beds as glass rained from the windows. This was followed seconds later by a loud bang as a piece of metal from the aircraft struck the corrugated iron machine shed close by. Within two minutes they had all pulled on clothes and gathered in the kitchen—the Merlin family plus Ole, Jerry, Carol, and Frank. Tory already had coffee on—coffee for fellowship, she said.
The clock showed four-seventeen.
Carol was the next-to-last in. "What was it?" she asked.
"An airplane blew up," answered Ole. "Yust up there."
He pointed upward toward the southeast, then concentrated. "A small vun, vith—I get two people in it."
"How the heck could a small plane make an explosion like that?" Jerry asked. "Even if the gas tanks blew?"
Vic had come in while Ole was talking. "They had a bomb they were getting ready to drop on us," Vic said, "and it blew up before they could push it out. The gas tanks blew too then."
Tory looked around, counting heads. "Looks like nobody got cut," she commented, then looked at her two sons. "Somebody's going to have to figure out what glass we need to get before the boys go into town this morning. Any volunteers?"
The dark, compact Kelly looked at his lanky, red-haired brother. "I'll do the measuring," he said, "if you'll get the glass at noon."
"Okay," Norm answered nonchalantly. "I'll go on back to bed and get another hour's sleep." Both young men left the kitchen. Jerry couldn't help but think of the argument there'd have been among him and his brothers over a matter like that.
Vic looked around at the others. "We were going to get up at six anyway. Suppose we just stay up now and get an early start. We can get through Phoenix ahead of the real rush-hour traffic,"
"If y'all are going to do that," said Tory, "I guess I'd better fix breakfast. I'm getting low on eggs, So unless somebody won't eat pancakes, that's what we'll have."
"Sounds good to me," said Frank. The others added their agreement and dispersed. Ole and Jerry went outside, to lessen the demands on the single bathroom. Without speaking, they walked side by side to the shadows below the box elders and stood a few feet apart facing downhill.
"Well," Jerry said, "things seem to be going pretty well."
"O-oh?"
"It seems as if everything the enemy tries blows back in their faces."
"Ya, ve ain't doing bad at all. But I ain't going to get too cocky. It looks like they got more than psychic powers, and if they can send people out vith airplanes and bombs, ve don't know v'at the hell they'll try to do next. But you're right: ve're still alive and doing good, and at least a couple of them ain't."
They stood quiet then for a moment, until they had finished. "My arm feels a lot better," Jerry commented as he zipped his fly. "The doctor said six weeks in the cast, but I don't think it'll be that long. It's not just that it doesn't hurt; somehow it feels as if it's healing really fast. And don't ask me how I know; it just feels that way."
"Good," Ole said. "Ve can stop along the vay somev'ere and get it x-rayed. The cast can probably come off early. That Noetie stuff helps things heal faster, and this stuff of Vic's could be speeding it up more yet."
They sauntered back toward the ranch house, slowly, as if there was more to say. "You know," Jerry said thoughtfully, "this stuff that Vic's come up with—it still seems unreal to me when I stop to think about it. If I didn't see and feel the results for myself—see the effects in the rest of you and feel it in me—I wouldn't believe it. But I wish to hell I'd gone through the gate with you guys. That would have really made it real for me."
"Ya," Ole said, "that vas something else—the vildest thing I ever done. And I done some vild stuff. Probably you can go through the next gate v'en ve get there." He stopped and faced the younger man. "You know, if they're going for us vith things like bombs and guns, that revolver of yours yust might come in handy yet."
Jerry grinned. "Yeah. So far I've been along mainly for the ride, although according to Tory, I had something to do with holding back an antelope stampede. I really don't have any idea of what that was like; I wish I could consciously remember it."
"Maybe you vill—v'en Vic or Tory has time to vork vith us some more. Meanv'ile, yust enyoy feeling good; most people in this situation vould be too nervous to spit. They'd be blibbering their lips. You're doing great."
Jerry nodded, then pushed his strong hand out to the Icelander. Ole met it with his own, larger one. "You're darn right I'm doing great," said Jerry, "and it started when I got mixed up with you. I'll tell you what else, too. You said 'enjoy feeling good'; well, that's just what the heck I'm doing. Life has never felt this good to me before, even though somebody just tried to bomb me out of existence."
His grin widened. "And here we are, faced with the end of the world. I guess the key is, we know it won't be the end of us, or of anybody, even if we don't get it stopped." The grin lessened to a small smile. "Although I don't know how I'd like doing the caveman bit. Maybe we wouldn't have to start out like that, though, eh? I suppose whoever reprograms the reality generator could set things up the way they want to. Now that would be an interesting job!
"But this is the time to do—whatever it is we've been working toward all this time."
The grin flashed back again. "Enough of this cerebral bullshit. We've got us a game, Ole. We've got us a game."