Margot's home, a little over two miles north of Arnette, was a white streamline moderne with a tower providing two additional storeys. Bryce could just hear someone playing an acoustic guitar quite competently (reminding him of Vic Palfrey); after a few seconds he recognized the notes for Larry Underwood's new hit Baby Can You Dig Your Man? Eddie opened the door for Margot, who called her daughters. Colleen was in her mid-teens and even heavier than her mom. Erin, the one with the guitar, was merely plump and had just turned 10, as evident by the birthday cards and slices of decorated cake which both girls had been eating.

Margot told them that she had been sick and needed to rest; they were to do all the cleaning this evening — starting with cake crumbs ("We don't want meece again, what if Mr. Jinx were to come and inspect").

Eddie was carrying his binoculars. "Marg, we'd like to go upstairs and peek at Arnette."

"Sure. Be careful with the telescope. It may look like just a spyglass, but it's very expensive."

The two men climbed the spiral staircase and on arrival at top were impressed with the view. Margot's property was a hobby farm shaded by large trees — cottonwood, elm, pecan and at least three species of oak. Two horses were grazing in oak shade. One of them was coughing and both had runny nostrils.

To the south, the view of Arnette - shadowed by dark thundery clouds - was excellent considering the distance. Even without optical aid, Bryce could make out Hap's Texaco just north of the village. He could see the rooftop of the old house where Dr. Pearce Redman, DDS and his wife Paula had started a family which added three boys before Pearce's heart keeled him into the ground at age 41. Five years later a vicious flu swept the house, leaving Paula, Stu and Bryce practically bedridden for a week — unable to visit little brother Dev, who was in hospital because his flu had become pneumonia . . . terminal. Four years after that, Paula noticed very abnormal menstruation, and the cancer which caused it had been more than a match for her determination to see Stu graduate. The same kind of cancer later killed Stu's wife.

Bryce turned his mind to the present and picked up the telescope. It was somewhat like the 30-power spyglass which had been his 1977 Christmas present, but with a bigger objective lens and considerably more heft. Slowly and carefully, he pulled it to its maximum length and peered in, standing just behind and to the right of Eddie, who was scanning with his binoculars.

The magnification was only slightly more than in Bryce's long-ago instrument, but with the bigger objective the difference in image quality was like night and day. There was even a crosshair reticle. Bryce could make out the overgrown foundation of the burned-to-the-ground Red Ball Express truck stop where the widowed Paula had worked for a while. He could see the fallen gas pumps at Hap's. He saw a few droopy dogs prowling the streets, seemingly mindless of the wind which sent up swirls of litter and puffs of dust.

And he could see the markings on the military vehicles, and the barbed wire which surrounded the village, and the soldiers who looked the size of lawn ants . . . ants wearing respirators.

Some of them seemed to be coughing or sneezing. One man collapsed, another spoke to his radio, and several more gathered around - not too close. Bryce was mesmerized with the view. He scanned left to see if anyone in charge was coming and the telescope bumped something — Eddie's bald head.

Eddie looked balefully at Bryce, took the telescope, and handed him the binoculars. They had less magnification but were otherwise good (Bryce could still see the soldiers, although they looked more like tiny sugar ants). Their big advantage was a wider field of view.

So Bryce was the one who saw Hap's big Texaco sign blow down. "You see that? Go right!"

"Shit! Taking some shingles off, too. Someone better have kept his insurance up to date."

Bryce said, "Let's see if their phones still work!" He hurried downstairs and picked up the first phone he saw. He punched Stu's number, then the others he'd tried after Eddie's first call. As before, phones rang but no one answered. He rushed back upstairs.

Eddie looked at him and saw no need to ask anything. He took out a filtered Winston from its customized brass case and lit it. The first puff provoked a volley of coughs.

"Shit, haven't reacted like that since I started," Eddie finally said. From the thousand-yard stare in his eyes, Bryce guessed that he sensed something other than smoke was making him cough.

From downstairs came a fleshly splap, then Erin's yell: "Mom, Colleen's sick!"

Margot ran to the kitchen, her heavy footfalls very discernible to Bryce.

"Colleen!" she shouted, her voice hoarser than Bryce would have liked. "Burning up, all right. Erin! Cooking oil and eggs, now!"

Bryce stood on the landing, worried by the sounds around him. Eddie had gone to the nearest toilet, where he was repeatedly hawking and spitting. Below in the kitchen, Colleen moaned and coughed as someone else scooped ice cubes.

This is bad, this is bad!