From Part 25:
“Clark, wait!” Michel pleaded, his voice growing slightly fainter. “Maybe you don't have to do this! Maybe there's some other way!”
'There isn't. Not if Earth is to have any chance of surviving.' He let go of Michel, of the sensations of fear and despair bubbling up in his stomach, and turned to go back into the main viewing room of the observatory. “Sorry to keep you in suspense,” he said to the three men awaiting his return. “Tell the president I'll give it everything I've got. I guess we're about to find out what my limits really are.”
Part 26:----------
It was dark.
He opened his eyes.
It was still dark.
He was lying in an alley. Pieces of junk and debris rolled off of him as he struggled to his feet. Nothing looked familiar...
“Hey, man, whatcha doin' there? You gotta be freezin'!”
He blinked in confusion. A ragged man with an overflowing shopping cart stood staring at him. He looked down at himself. He was naked.
“You put these on,” the man said, fishing a pair of pants and a shirt out of his cart. “They're clean. only worn 'em a couple times.”
After a slight hesitation, he took the offered articles of clothing. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” the man said while he dressed. “Where you from?”
He thought about it, and he realized that he couldn't remember. “I have no idea.”
“Yeah. I been around myself,” the man replied. “You hungry?”
Was he? He didn't feel any hunger pangs, but then, he couldn't remember if he'd recently eaten. How long was he in that junk pile, anyway? “I think so. Perhaps.”
The man started pushing his cart along and waved for him to follow. “If we get a move on, we can catch us some breakfast at the shelter.”
He hesitated again, reluctant to follow this stranger off into the unknown. “I don't know...”
“Don't put down no shelter, brother,” the man chided. “You been sleepin' in the altogether inside a pile a junk! Here.” The man tossed him a pair of glasses. “Put these on. Make you look smarter.”
He slipped them onto his face. They seemed to have no effect on his vision; the lenses were probably just plain glass. For some reason, though, wearing them...felt right. He decided to leave them on.
The man struck off again, and this time, he followed. They paused at the mouth of the alley while a small crowd of people staggered past, laughing and occasionally singing bits of songs loudly and off-key. Someone tripped, toppling the entire procession.
“Everyone's celebratin',” the man explained, pushing his cart around the heap of struggling bodies. “Way I see it, now that thing in the sky's gone, we're all just in danger from drunk party-goers. I'm Henry O. You got a name?”
“I...can't remember.”
Henry smiled knowingly. “Been there myself, man.”
**********
Light shone through his eyelids. He felt...cold.
“Good heavens! Is he dead?!”
His eyelids fluttered open. He was lying in snow.
“No, no, Greta, look: he's moving!”
He stood slowly, brushing at the freezing white flakes that covered his naked body. A middle aged couple watched him from further up the slope.
“You there!” The woman shouted, waving a ski pole in the air. “Are you all right?! Do you need help?!”
He looked around. From this high vantage point, he could see pretty far into the distance: the ghostly, white-cloaked mountains seemed to roll on forever. Nothing gave him a clue as to where he was, or why he was here. “I don't know.”
With a swish of skis that threw snow in every direction, the couple was soon at his side. “What's your name?” The man asked, removing his coat.
He thought about it. “I...can't remember.”
The woman...Greta?...gasped. “My Goodness! Leopold, he has hypothermia!”
The coat settled over his shoulders. “Definitely the late stage of it,” Leopold agreed. “It's a good thing we found you in time! Come, we must get you to the lodge at once!” They tried to usher him along.
He hesitated. “I...don't...”
“Shush,” Greta soothed, patting him on the arm. “It will be okay; you'll feel much better with a fire and some cocoa.”
TBC...
