In the Curry Village general store, he stocked up on dried soups and various pouches of gourmet camp food. The supplies were running out. "Trucks haven't come in here for two days," the young woman clerk said. "We keep calling, they keep saying they're coming. But nobody's doing much now. Just sitting back and waiting. Damned morbid, if you ask me."

He added a pair of dark sunglasses and paid for the supplies with the last of his cash. All he had now were credit cards and a few traveler's checks. No matter.

He had hoisted the plastic bag and was about to leave when he saw the blond woman at the back of the store, picking through a bin of half-rotten apples. Taking a concealed deep breath, Edward replaced his bag on the counter, motioned with his finger to the clerk that he would be back, and walked to the rear.

"Find your husband?" he asked. The woman glanced at him, smiled sadly, and shook her head.

"No such bad luck," she said. She held up a particularly bruised apple and inspected it ruefully. "I'm a fruito-phile, and look what they offer."

"I have some pretty good apples in my . . . Back at the cabin. I'll be leaving for Glacier Point soon. You're welcome to them. Too heavy to carry more than one or two on a hike."

"That's very kind," she said. She dropped the apple into the bin and held out her hand. Slender, cool, strong fingers; he shook the hand with moderate firmness. "My name is Betsy," she said, "and my maiden name is Sothern."

"I'm Edward Shaw." He decided to go for broke. "I'm not with anybody."

"Oh?"

"For the duration," he said.

"How long is that?" she asked.

"Somebody said less than a week. Nobody knows for sure."

"Where's your cabin?"

"Not far from here."

"If you feed me a nice, crisp, juicy apple," she said, "I'm liable to follow you anywhere."

Edward's smile was spontaneous and broad. "Thank you," he said. "This way."

"Thank you," Betsy said.

In the tent, he found her the best red apple and polished it with a clean dishcloth. She bit into it, wiped away a dribble of juice running down her chin, and watched him arrange the supplies in his backpack.

"I hope you're not one of those ignorant people," she said abruptly. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but if you think everything's rosy, and God's going to save us, or something like that ..."

Edward shook his head.

"Good. I thought you looked smart. Sweet and smart. We don't have much time left, do we?"

"No." He flipped the pack over and buckled it, glancing at her.

"You know, if I had it all to do over again," she said, "I'd choose men like you."

This pricked Edward a little. "That's what all the beautiful women say. There aren't any maidens in foxholes, or something to that effect."