His head felt big as a pumpkin, but he navigated the steps of the old mansion successfully. In the dark interior of the house, he heard Martha lock and chain the door. Then her hand gripped his wrist.
"This way. I have one room blacked out—the kitchen."
He let her lead him through the darkness, heard her close another door. Then her flashlight came on again, illuminating the barny old kitchen.
He looked at her. He had remembered Martha Kendrick as a small, dark girl, something of a spitfire. There was no chip on her shoulder now. She looked near collapse, her face dead white, her hands trembling.
She insisted on putting cold wet cloths on his head. Holding them there, feeling at the same time painful and a little ridiculous in appearance, Wales made her sit down with him at the kitchen table. The flashlight, lying on the table, threw angular shadows against the walls.
"How long have you been hiding here, Martha?"
"Five weeks. It seems like five years." Her lips began to quiver. "It's been like a terrible dream. This old house, the town, everything you knew all your life, deserted and strange. The little sounds you hear at night, the glow in the sky from the burnings—"
"But why have you hidden here? Why didn't you—and Lee too—report to New York for evacuation to Mars, like everyone else?"
Martha Kendrick seemed to get a little control of herself. She spoke earnestly.
"When Castletown, like the rest of this whole region, was evacuated two years ago, Lee wanted to stay on a while. He was working each night over at the Observatory, keeping a constant watch on Nereus. I think he kept hoping that he'd discover some change in its orbit, some hope. But—he found nothing. He'd been right. It would hit Earth."