LITMIR.BIZ

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about the landing, nothing at all,” she said. “Where is everyone?”

      “Well, it’s Christmas!” I said. “They never give Novato much coverage anyway.”

      It was about that time, I later learned, that another capsule smashed into Nevada City, flattening a home business there.

      The few survivors from the previous night’s escapade mostly weren’t believed. The local police had been decimated, but the appropriate reports had certainly been filed by next morning with the appropriate state and federal agencies. However, the sleepy-headed politicos in Sacramento and Washington were slow on the uptake, particularly in D.C., just dismissing the messages as “Kooky Kalifornia Krap.”

      None of the other ships had received much attention yet. The Martians initially stayed very close to their landing sites. Buses were operating as usual across the Golden Gate Bridge, the ferry from San Francisco to Sausalito and Larkspur kept dropping batches of revelers on the docks of those towns, and Highway 101 was crammed with thousands of folks heading back home from their weekend gatherings somewhere else.

      Gradually, though, the news began filtering out of Novato. Even though the fires were largely under control, the clouds of ash were still very noticeable that afternoon. Folks on the Tiburon Ferry could look northwest across the Bay as the light began to fail and spot several thick plumes of brown smoke.

      Half a dozen homes had burned on the western edge of Novato. Communications had been seriously disrupted after the incident at the pit, and it took some time for the police to regroup. The Chief was missing and couldn’t be raised by pager or cell phone. All this activity kept the inhabitants of the west side of town awake through much of the night.

      After the Chief had been killed, local firemen and police were ordered to avoid the pit entirely. Radiation, it was said, had spread from the wreckage of an experimental aircraft that had gone down in the hills. Dozens, even hundreds of people had died from exposure to the stuff, and until the appropriate hazmat teams could be mustered, all official personnel would maintain a respectful distance and establish a perimeter around the affected area. This had supposedly been ordered by the Mayor in consultation with the Board of Supervisors of Marin County. In fact, no one actually knew what was happening. As a precaution, Lieutenant Governor Willa Lambert ordered the National Guard out to restore order, since Governor Jay Banisoff was visiting relatives in West Virginia.

      The first troops arrived early the next day, on the feast of St. Stephen the First Martyr in the Catholic Church.

      The crowds surrounding the pit had dispersed by then. There was nothing to be seen except the mound of sand covering the craft. Meanwhile, more officers, including a few state police, were busily scurrying about, setting up new barriers. One or two unlucky souls had snuck near the ship during the night, but they never returned and their bodies were never found. We didn’t learn why until much later.

      Except for that, the fields were silent and desolate at first light. A few charred, “irradiated” bodies and pieces of bodies lay prostrate in front of the mound. A faint pounding noise emanated now and again from the direction of the pit, but the sound could only be heard by the nearby security personnel who were manning the roped-off perimeter fence.

      At home, though, things seemed pretty normal, at least until Becky and I had our little discussion just after dawn.

      “I’m leaving, Alex,” she said. “I’m taking the car, with or without you, and I’m going to stay with Aunt Anita. I already called her.”

      “Not the bird lady! Jeez, Becky, she talks to her tweeties all the time! She’s crazy—I’d say as a loon, but you know what I mean. And that laugh of hers, it’s like a hyena’s. You’ve got to be kidding.”

      “I’m not kidding. It’s too dangerous to stay here any longer, and I’m going. I hope you’ll come with me, but if you don’t….”

      “But we….”

      “I’ve seen enough, Alex. I saw what they were like. They almost killed you. You’re just fooling yourself if you think those, those…things are going to stop coming. They’re evil. They’ll kill us all if they can.”

      “Look, I’ve got to see this out, Becky, I’ve just got to,” I said. “Tell you what, though, I’ll drive you there myself this afternoon—that way I’ll have the car—and I’ll join you again in a day or two, when everything is over. I’ll be fine here for a few days. Nothing’s going to happen. Now that they have the army coming, that’ll be the end of it. You’ll see.”

      And that’s where we left it. She wouldn’t touch me at first, but then she embraced me and hugged me close. Maybe it was just fear, but I’d like to think, particularly considering what happened afterwards, that it meant something more to her. It sure as hell did to me, especially later.

      About eight that morning, while we were having a light breakfast, I heard a convoy of trucks rolling down Novato Boulevard, and I rushed out in my robe to see what I could see; but my vantage point on Olivet Avenue just gave me a glimpse of the camouflaged military vehicles as they rumbled by. I thought I spotted a couple of half-tracks, a few artillery pieces, and some transport trucks littered among the Humvees. I quickly got dressed, gave Becky a peck on the cheek, and told her I’d be back for lunch.

      Half an hour later, a second convoy of National Guardsmen deployed north of the impact area, together with some state police and a representative from the Governor’s Office. The new landings of Martian ships in the Bay Area had finally alerted the authorities to the seriousness of the situation, and similar responses were already being initiated at the sites where the capsules hadn’t yet unfolded.

      Somebody yelled and pointed at the sky. I saw a long streak of green stretching its way from the western horizon towards us, finally disappearing eastward with a loud, single clap of thunder, like a sonic boom.

      Another alien ship had just planted itself in good California soil.

      CHAPTER NINE

      INTERPLANETARY WAR

      Be not disturbed by planetary war.

      —Elinor Wylie

      Alex Smith, 26 December, Mars Year i

      Novato, California, Planet Earth

      After throwing on some old clothes, I hurried down Novato Boulevard, following the traffic and hordes of people to where the military was. Some of the locals were carrying lawn chairs and picnic lunches and ice chests filled with drinks. Blasting the aliens—or whatever they were—had become almost a town party.

      The National Guard had established two emplacements, one to the north of the pit and one to the south, both in non-populated areas. The police had been moved away from the perimeter and ordered to keep the lookie-loos from interfering with the military. There were maybe a hundred Guardsmen at each camp, and more were arriving all the time in small convoys.

      The funny thing was, nobody seemed much concerned about the situation, either soldiers or civilians. I saw a vending truck selling sandwiches, beer, soft drinks, and other snacks. With the weather so unseasonably warm for winter, people spread out blankets on the hills surrounding the pit, picking out the best spots to view the coming action while munching nattily on their Nachos. The Guardsmen began moving very slowly and methodically to position their mobile cannons and half-tracks where they could cover each other.

      I saw my next-door neighbor, Brice Boston, sitting on one of those portable lawn stools, the canvass kind, drinking a Coors Light, and holding a portable radio in his lap, earplugs already strapped over his patriotic NRA cap. Brice was a strong supporter of the current Governor, a real horror show.

      He popped his plugs and said: “Hey, man, it’s all over but the shouting. The Guard’ll cut ’em to shreds in two minutes, if they actually start something. Want a brewski?”

      He held out a Quatro Equis, but I passed. A bit early in the day, if you know what I mean—and in any case, I never understood what the additional X’s meant.

      “What we really

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