Free Rock On by Bruce Sterling, Poppy Z. Brite, Norman Spinrad, Elizabeth Hand, Lucius Shepard, Graham Joyce, Michael Swanwick, Charles De Lint, John Shirley, F. Paul Wilson, Howard Waldrop, Alastair Reynolds, Graham Masterton, Caitlin R. Kiernan, David J. Schow, Elizabeth Bear, Edward Bryan, Lawrence C. Connolly, Bradley Denton, Greg Kihn, Pat Cadigan, Marc Laidlaw, Del James, Lewis Shiner Page A

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    10
    In the afternoon:
    Jain gestures in an expansive circle. “This is where I grew up.”
    The mountains awe me. “Right here?”
    She shakes her head. “It was a lot like this. My pa ran sheep. Maybe a hundred miles north.”
    “But in the mountains?”
    “Yeah. Really isolated. My pa convinced himself he was one of the original settlers. He was actually a laid-off aerospace engineer out of Seattle.”
    The wind flays us for a moment; Jain’s hair whips and she shakes it back from her eyes. I pull her into the shelter of my arms, wrapping my coat around us both. “Do you want to go back down to the car?”
    “Hell, no,” she says. “A mountain zephyr can’t scare me off.”
    I’m not used to this much open space; it scares me a little, though I’m not going to admit that to Jain. We’re above timberline, and the mountainside is too stark for my taste. I suddenly miss the rounded, wooded hills of Pennsylvania. Jain surveys the rocky fields rubbed raw by wind and snow, and I have a quick feeling she’s scared too. “Something wrong?”
    “Nope. Just remembering.”
    “What’s it like on a ranch?”
    “Okay, if you don’t like people,” she says slowly, obviously recalling details. “My pa didn’t.”
    “No neighbors?”
    “Not a one in twenty miles.”
    “Brothers?” I say. “Sisters?”
    She shakes her head. “Just my pa.” I guess I look curious because she looks away and adds, “My mother died of tetanus right after I was born. It was a freak thing.”
    I try to change the subject. “Your father didn’t come down to the first concert, did he? Is he coming tonight?”
    “No way,” she says. “He didn’t and he won’t. He doesn’t like what I do.” I can’t think of anything to say now. After a while Jain rescues me. “It isn’t your hassle, and it isn’t mine anymore.”
    Something perverse doesn’t let me drop it now. “So you grew up alone.”
    “You noticed,” she says softly. “You’ve got a hell of a way with understatement.”
    I persist. “Then I don’t understand why you still come up here. You must hate this.”
    “Ever see a claustrophobe deliberately walk into a closet and shut the door? If I don’t fight it this way—” Her fingers dig into my arms. Her face is fierce. “This has got to be better than what I do on stage.” She swings away from me. “Shit!” she says. “Damn it all to hell.” She stands immovable, staring down the mountain for several minutes. When she turns back toward me, her eyes are softer and there’s a fey tone in her voice. “If I die—” She laughs. “When I die. I want my ashes here.”
    “Ashes?” I say, unsure how to respond. Humor her. “Sure.”
    “You.” She points at me. “Here.” She indicates the rock face. The words are simple commands given to a child.
    “Me.” I manage a weak smile.
    Her laugh is easy and unstrained now. “Kid games. Did you do the usual things when you were a kid, babe?”
    “Most of them.” I hardly ever won, but then I liked to play games with outrageous risks.
    “Hammer, rock, and scissors?”
    “Sure, when I was really young.” I repeat by long-remembered rote: “Rock breaks scissors, scissors cut paper, paper covers rock.”
    “Okay,” she says. “Let’s play.” I must look doubtful. “Rob,” she says warningly.
    “Okay.” I hold out my right hand.
    Jain says, “One, two, three.” On “three,” we each bring up our right hand. Hers is a clenched fist: stone. My first two fingers form the snipping blades of a pair of scissors. “I win!” she crows, delighted.
    “What do you win?”
    “You. Just for a little while.” She pulls my hands close and lays them on her body.
    “Right here on the mountain?” I say.
    “I’m from pioneer stock. But you—” She shrugs. “Too delicate?”
    I laugh and pull her close.
    “Just—” She hesitates. “Not like the other times? Don’t take this seriously, okay?”
    In my want I forget the other occasions.