"No ..." Grant's shirt and slacks were wrinkled and his silver-gray hair was tousled; he had apparently nodded off on the couch, getting up as he heard their car approach.

"We saw a flash to the north," Arthur said.

"Arthur thinks it was Seattle," Francine said. Her look was almost a challenge: Go ahead, tell us you know. Tell us how you know.

Arthur stared at her, dismayed. Then it came to him: she was suddenly amidst family. She did not have to rely completely on him. She could vent a few of her own doubts and tensions; Marty was asleep and wouldn't hear. He understood this well enough, but it still hurt. On top of the pain he had felt earlier, this small betrayal was almost more than he could stand.

"We heard on the radio," Arthur said, taking the easy way out. "Something happened in Seattle."

Francine nodded, her face bloodless, teeth clenched. "Radio," she said.

"What, for God's sake? I have a brother in Seattle," Grant said.

The airborne sound of Seattle's death rattled the house windows. Grant glanced warily at the ceiling. Arthur checked his watch and nodded.

"It's gone," Arthur told him. "The entire metropolitan area."

"Jesus Christ!" Grant cried, jumping from his stool. He went to the wail phone at the end of the counter and fumbled at the keypad.

"We didn't hear that on the radio," Francine said softly, her shoulders slumping. She stared past her folded hands at the carpet.

"It's busy. Everything's tied up," Grant said. He loped into the den to switch on the television. "When did you hear this?"

"We saw the flash about fifty minutes ago," Francine said, glancing up guiltily at Arthur. He held out his hand, wriggling his fingers, and she grasped it, covering her face with her other hand. She shuddered, but no tears would come.

The commentator's voice came to them through Grant's expensive sound system, resonant and authoritative, but with more than a hint of fear. "—reports now from Seattle and Charleston, that the two cities have been destroyed by what appear to be nuclear explosions, but there are contradictory reports of no accompanying radiation. We still have no idea what actually happened although it is now clear that at least these two seaboard cities, on the East and West Coasts, have been leveled by unprecedented disaster. The government has issued statements that our nation is not yet in a state of war, which leads some sources to state that the explosions were not caused by nuclear missiles, at least not those of the Soviet Union, indeed, flashes over the cities of San Francisco and Cleveland have led some to speculate that the destruction of the Earth has begun, and that we are witnessing—"

"Tell him," Francine said, keeping her voice low. "Tell him. I believe you. Really Ì do. They need to know."