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Grandfather began to lie down in the dirt, and Bingwen came over and helped him, getting his hands under Grandfather shoulders and lowering him gently down.

"There are people in the fields, Grandfather. Let me find some who can carry you the rest of the way."

"I have two feet, boy. Let me use them. I will not be the burden of any man."

Oh, you won't burden any man, thought Bingwen, but you will burden me.

Then he instantly felt ashamed for having thought such a wretched thing. It was Grandfather who had believed him about the aliens when no other adult had, Grandfather who had helped him pilfer cans of food and bags of rice and bury it all in the earth, Grandfather who had shown him how to build the ladder to get into the library many years ago. Always Grandfather.

For a moment Bingwen considered running ahead to the village and getting Father anyway. But then the thought of Father only angered him. He shouldn't have left us, thought Bingwen. He should have come back for us after getting Mother home.

No, if Father didn't come on his own accord, Bingwen wasn't going to get him.

Hopper and Meilin giggled, poking the stick at a paddy frog who hopped away from them and splashed in the water.

Bingwen got up and went to them. "He's asleep again. You should both go home. Your parents will be sick with worry. Grandfather and I don't need you now."

"And do what at home?" said Hopper. "Get a lashing for staying out? A fist to the ear. No thanks."

"I told you to go home hours ago. You should have listened."

Hopper shrugged. "This is fun."

"Fun?" Bingwen wanted to shake him. "Dragging Grandfather through the valley is fun? You're being stubborn and stupid, Hopper. Both of you. Wasting your time out here laughing and teasing each other. You should be home, helping."

Hopper was on his feet, angry. "Helping do what? You said we were fine, Bingwen. You said nothing was going to happen. You said it's a big world and we're a tiny part of it."

Bingwen could feel his face flushing with fury, tears welling up in his eyes. Everything was building up and crashing down inside him all at once. Grandfather's stupid old bones and the aliens and Father not coming and the cold of the night and Hopper giggling. "I said that on the roof to keep you from crying, Hopper. I said that to help. Which is more than you're doing for me. All night long you and Meilin have been yapping and telling stories and poking with sticks, like this is all a game. Don't you realize what's going on? Don't you see the danger we're in? There are creatures above us, monsters with maws and claws and muscles and strength, hanging over us like spiders, and you skip and giggle and chase frogs like we're having a birthday."

Hopper glared. "Oh some friend you are. I go with you into the library, I steal for you, I freeze my butt off out here so you won't be alone, and this is the thanks I get." He poked Bingwen in the chest. "You're just mad because Meilin is having more fun with me than she ever had with you."

Bingwen blinked. What? Meilin? What did any of this have to do with Meilin? But then he saw Meilin's cheeks flush with embarrassment before she turned away and Bingwen understood at once. Why hadn't he seen it before? All through the night as Hopper and Meilin had lagged behind, the two had chased each other and needled each other and laughed and seemed oblivious to Bingwen and Grandfather. It had annoyed Bingwen, but for none of the reasons that Hopper thought. Did he honestly think Bingwen was ... what? Jealous? How could Hopper imagine even for an instant that Bingwen and Meilin could ever be anything other than cousins?

"You know what?" said Hopper. "I will go home. Because I'd rather get boxed on the ear by my father than yelled at and insulted by someone I thought was my best friend."

He turned and began limping away.

Bingwen opened his mouth but no words came out. What would he say? That he was sorry? That he hadn't meant to lash out? That he was grateful that Hopper had come? That Hopper was his best friend and that it was he, Bingwen, who was acting like a fool? Yes, he would say all of that.

Someone was shouting in the valley, their voice frantic.

Bingwen turned. A distance away some workers were pointing in the sky, shouting. Bingwen's eyes followed their fingers and he saw it. A ball of fire in the sky. Burning through the atmosphere.

It was the ship, he told himself. The ship was coming down on them.

He ran to Grandfather, kneeling beside him, shaking him. "Wake up! Grandfather! Wake up!"

The old man roused, confused, disoriented.

Bingwen looked up again. The ship was still a distance away, bearing down on them, aiming for them. It seemed low to the ground, but Bingwen knew better. That was the curvature of the Earth playing tricks. The ship was still high in the air. They had a few seconds.

He shook Grandfather again. "Get up!"

"Wha ... what is it?" Grandfather said, coming to himself.

"It's coming!"

Bingwen pointed. Grandfather looked, his eyes widening.


Tags: Orson Scott Card The First Formic War Science Fiction