she was listening to them, afraid and hopeless and crying over the death
of her people.

"Why did you come out here, Walden?"

"To see you. I came today, when I realized how suspicious the council
had grown. I was going to warn you, to tell you to keep away from the
hills, that they wanted an excuse to lock you up. I was too late."

"I was careless, Walden." He felt guilt twist inside of him.

"No. You didn't know the danger. I should have warned you sooner. But I
never dreamed you would find anyone in the hills, Eric. I never dreamed
there were any more without perception, this generation."

Eric moved nearer the car and leaned against it, the cold plastic next
to his body cooling him a little, steadying him against the feverish
trembling that shook his legs and sent sweat down over him and made him
too weak, suddenly, to want to struggle further.

"Let me go, Walden. Let me take the car and go."

Walden didn't move. He stood quietly, a tall thin shape in the darkness.

"There are other people the searchers didn't find, aren't there? And
you're going to them."

Eric didn't answer. He looked past Walden, at the car, wishing he could
somehow call to Lisa, wishing they could perceive so that he could
reassure her and promise her that somehow he'd still take her to
freedom. But it would be an empty promise....

"I've warned you too late. You've found your people, but it won't do you
any good. They'll hunt you through the hills, and I won't be able to
help you any more."

Eric looked back at him, hearing the sadness in his voice. It was real
sadness, real emotion. He thought of the years he had spent with Walden,
learning, absorbing the old race knowledge, and he remembered that all
through those years Walden had never once made him feel uncomfortable
because of the difference between them.

He looked at the old man for a long time, wishing that it was day so he
could read the other's expression, wondering how he had managed to take
this man for granted for so long.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why are you helping me? Why aren't you like the
others?"

"I never had a son, Eric. Perhaps that's the reason."

Eric thought of Myron and shook his head. "No, it isn't that. My father
doesn't feel the way you do. He can't forget that I'm not normal. With
him, I'm always aware of the difference."

"And you're not with me?"

"No," Eric said. "I'm not. Why?" And he wondered why he had never asked
that question before.