Invasion

appeared to be a simple plan, nearly fool-proof. But there might be complications. What if there were no snowplows working the county road-no traffic moving whatsoever? After all, it was not a main route. It served a handful of rural families who expected to be snowbound for weeks every winter and who would not ordinarily be bothered if the road remained closed for several days. In a blizzard of these dimensions, the county and state highway maintenance crews might concentrate their efforts in the towns and on the superhighways and primary state routes that were more heavily used. With the wind drifting shut highways they had plowed open hours earlier, they would be kept busy with the major thoroughfares-while I might stand beside the county road for hours, waiting in vain and gradually freezing to death. If no plows came by I would have to return to the farmhouse in defeat or walk yet another two miles to the nearest house that fronted on the county road, without any guarantee that when I got there I would find someone at home and/or a working telephone.
        "If you went in that direction," Connie said thoughtfully, "I don't believe you'd find help in time. I don't think you'd make it through to Barley."
        "Neither do I."
        "Then we rule it out?"
        "Yeah." Both of us had changed into dry clothes and had drunk mugs of steaming cocoa. I closed my eyes, wishing that I could hold on to the warmth of the house and not have to go outside again. "So I'll have to go to the Johnson farm."
        "We always say it's two miles from here. But is that right?"
        "That's what Ed told us."
        "Two miles…
        But two miles as you walk-or two miles as the crow flies?"
        That was a disturbing thought. I had never walked the full route any farther than to the top of
        Pastor's Hill from which you could look out across a forest and see the Johnson farm perched on another hill in the distance. I opened my eyes and said, "If it's as the crow flies, it could be considerably more than two miles on foot.
        Might be three or four miles. Might be too far for me."
        She said nothing.
        She stared at me with those incredibly beautiful eyes, bright gazelle eyes.
        "But that has to be wrong," I said, trying hard to convince myself. "Look, when you tell someone that your nearest neighbor lives two miles away, you mean it's a two-mile walk or a two-mile drive-not a two-mile flight."
        "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But what if you get there and discover they aren't home?"
        "They're homebodies. They'll be there."
        "But just what if?"
        "I'll break in and use their phone."
        "And if the phone isn't working?"
        "Then we're no better off than we were before I went-but we haven't lost anything by trying."
        "You're right."
        "And I'm positive they will be there."
        "I remember… Ed has a gun case. Shotguns and rifles."
        "Of course," I said, starting to feel better. "Every farmer around here goes hunting. So… Ed and I can arm ourselves… And even if the telephone lines are down at his place, we can come back here for you and Toby."
        She sat up straighter, sat on the edge of her chair. "You know, I'm beginning to think maybe there's a chance."
        "Sure. Sure, there's a chance. A good chance!"
        "When will you leave?"
        "At first light."
        "That's only a few hours away. You'll need to get some sleep before you go," she said. "I'll sit up with Toby."
        "You need to sleep too."
        She grimaced. "We can't both sleep, that's for sure. Besides, I've already slept for an hour, before Toby tried to run out on us."
        "You can't get through tomorrow on one hour of sleep."
        "And you can't hike to the Johnson farm without any sleep at all," she said, getting to her feet.
        Realizing that she was right and I was a fool to argue, I folded up my misguided chivalry and tucked it away in a mental closet where it wouldn't attract me again. I got up and stretched and said, "Okay. Better wake me around five."
        She came to me.
        I put my arms around her.
        She put her lips against my throat.
        Warmth, a heartbeat, hope.
        

    ***
        
        She switched off the lamp, plunging the living room into darkness, and came to the front door where I was waiting in my heavy coat, scarf, gloves, toboggan cap,