"Here we are. This is ours. This is where we live from now on!"
"From now on?" Michael was incredulous. He stood up, looking, and then turned to blink back at where the rocket used to be. "What about the rocket? What about Minnesota?"
"Here," said Dad.
He touched the small radio to Michael's blond head. "Listen."
Michael listened.
"Nothing," he said.
"That's right. Nothing. Nothing at all any more. No more Minneapolis, no more rockets, no more Earth."
Michael considered the lethal revelation and began to sob little dry sobs.
"Wait a moment," said Dad the next instant. "I'm giving you a lot more in exchange, Mike!"
"What?" Michael held off the tears, curious, but quite ready to continue in case Dad's further revelation was as disconcerting as the original.
"I'm giving you this city, Mike. It's yours."
"Mine?"
"For you and Robert and Timothy, all three of you, to own for yourselves."
Timothy bounded from the boat "Look, guys, all for us! All of that!" He was playing the game with Dad, playing it large and playing it well. Later, after it was all over and things had settled, he could go off by himself and cry for ten minutes. But now it was still a game, still a family outing, and the other kids must be kept playing.
Mike jumped out with Robert. They helped Mom.
"Be careful of your sister," said Dad, and nobody knew what he meant until later.
They hurried into the great pink-stoned city, whispering among themselves, because dead cities have a way of making you want to whisper, to watch the sun go down.
"In about five days," said Dad quietly, "I'll go back down to where our rocket was and collect the food hidden in the ruins there and bring it here; and I'll hunt for Bert Edwards and his wife and daughters there."
"Daughters?" asked Timothy. "How many?"
"Four."
"I can see that'll cause trouble later." Mom nodded slowly.
"Girls." Michael made a face like an ancient Martian stone image. "Girls."
"Are they coming in a rocket too?"
"Yes. If they make it. Family rockets are made for travel to the Moon, not Mars. We were lucky we got through."
"Where did you get the rocket?" whispered Timothy, for the other boys were running ahead.
"I saved it. I saved it for twenty years, Tim. I had it hidden away, hoping I'd never have to use it. I suppose I should have given it to the government for the war, but I kept thinking about Mars ..."
"And a picnic!"
"Right. This is between you and me. When I saw everything was finishing on Earth, after I'd waited until the last moment, I packed us up. Bert Edwards had a ship hidden, too, but we decided it would be safer to take off separately, in case anyone tried to shoot us down."
"Why'd you blow up the rocket, Dad?"
"So we can't go back, ever. And so if any of those evil men ever come to Mars they won't know we're here."