Reslaw came into the café and slid into the seat beside Minelli. He withdrew a folded New York Times from under his arm and spread it in a clear space on the table. The headline read:

MYSTERY OBJECT MOVING WITHIN EARTH

"That's where we should be," Reslaw said, pointing to the picture of a meeting room in the St. Francis Hotel. "Talking to these people." There were pictures of Kemp, Sand, and Samshow on the next page.

"What could we tell them?" Edward asked. "What do we know that they don't?"

Reslaw shrugged. "At least we'd be doing something useful."

"If they wanted to talk to us, they'd let us know."

"The President came to talk to us," Minelli said. "Look what he's done. We're a jinx. Did you ever think perhaps the alien put something in all of our minds ... ?" He made a vague gesture toward his temple, eyes wide. "Something that makes us stupid and weak? Maybe it's making the President say things he doesn't mean."

Edward looked at Reslaw. "Anything in your head?"

"Not that I can feel."

"It's not impossible," Minelli said.

"No," Edward admitted, "but it's paranoid as hell, and that's the last thing we need, more fear."

Minelli turned the paper around to face him and read the article quietly.

"Stella says there have been more people on the highway, stopping at the motel, the trailer park," Reslaw said. "Most are going out to the cinder cone." He bit off an ironic laugh and shook his head. "I remember an old 'Peanuts' cartoon with Snoopy. The end of the world is coming, so let's hide under a sheet. With eyeholes cut out." He made circles around his eyes with his fingers and peered at Edward.

"Stop it," Minelli said pleasantly. "You're acting like me. Only one crazy fellow allowed in this group."

"What gives you privileges?" Reslaw asked, equally pleasant.

"Weak character. It's on my résumé." Minelli handed the paper to Edward. "This is really going to send them into a tailspin. They call it the smoking gun, whatever the hell it is. We've already been shot in the head, maybe, and we just haven't died yet."

"You do have a way with words," Reslaw said, staring at the palm of one hand. The waitress approached and he ordered a milkshake and a hamburger.

Edward finished the article and stood, dropping his tip on the table. "If everybody's going to be camping on the desert, there's no sense our looking for solitude. We should clear out of here and get back to Austin and leave these good people alone."

"Makes sense to me," Minelli said.

"What about your book deals?" Reslaw asked.

"Fuck fame and fortune. Who'd have time to spend the money?"