Free Sleepside: The Collected Fantasies by Greg Bear Page A

simple,” Karen said, but her eyes were sparkling. “The laws aren’t that cut and dried.”
    â€œOkay, but that’s the start of a plan, isn’t it?”
    â€œI suppose so.”
    â€œOkay.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “That’d be a big responsibility. Could we take care of a boy like Richie now?”
    Karen nodded and Thomas was suddenly aware how much she wanted a child. It stung him a little to see her eagerness and the moisture in her eyes.
    â€œOkay. I’ll go find him.” He put on his shoes and started out through the fence, turning south to the Thompson’s shed. When he reached the wooden building he saw the door had been equipped with a new padlock and the latch screwed in tight. He was able to peek in through a chink in the wood—whatever could be said about Thompson as a boatbuilder, he wasn’t much of a carpenter—and scan the inside. The pile of rags was gone. Only a few loose pieces remained. Richie, as he expected, wasn’t inside.
    Karen called from the porch and he looked north. Richie was striding toward the rocks at the opposite end of the cove. “I see him,” Thomas said as he passed the cabin. “Be back in a few minutes.”
    He walked briskly to the base of the rocks and looked for Richie. The boy stood on a boulder, pretending to ignore him. Hesitant, not knowing exactly how to say it, Thomas told him what they were going to do. The boy looked down from the rock.
    â€œYou mean, you want to be my folks?” A smile, broad and toothy, slowly spread across his face. Everything was going to be okay.
    â€œThat’s it, I think,” Thomas said. “If your parents don’t contest the matter.”
    â€œOh, I don’t have any folks,” Richie said. Thomas looked at the sea-colored eyes and felt sudden misgivings.
    â€œMight be easier, then,” he said softly.
    â€œHey, Tom? I found something in the pools. Come look with me? Come on!” Richie was pure small-boy then, up from his seat and down the rock and vanishing from view like a bird taking wing.
    â€œRichie!” Thomas cried. “I haven’t time right now. Wait!” He climbed up the rock with his hands and feet slipping on the slick surface. At the top he looked across the quarter-mile stretch of pools, irritated. “Richie!”
    The boy ran like a crayfish over the jagged terrain. He turned and shouted back, “In the big pool! Come on!” Then he ran on.
    Tom followed, eyes lowered to keep his footing. “Slow down!” He looked up for a moment and saw a small flail of arms, a face turned toward him with the smile frozen in surprise, and the boy disappearing. There was a small cry and a splash. “Richie!” Thomas shouted, his voice cracking. He’d fallen into the pool, the circular pool where the whale had been.
    He gave up all thought of his own safety and ran across the rocks, slipping twice and cracking his knees against a sharp ridge of granite. Agony shot up his legs and fogged his vision. Cursing, throwing hair out of his eyes, he crawled to his feet and shakily hobbled over the loose pebbles and sand to the edge of the round pool.
    With his hands on the smooth rock rim, he blinked and saw the boy floating in the middle of the pool, face down. Thomas groaned and shut his eyes, dizzy. There was a rank odor in the air; he wanted to get up and run. This was not the way rescuers were supposed to feel. His stomach twisted. There was no time to waste, however. He forced himself over the rim into the cold water, slipping and plunging head first. His brow touched the bottom. The sand was hard and compact, crusted. He stood with the water streaming off his head and torso. It was slick like oil and came up to his groin, deepening as he splashed to the middle. It would be up to his chest where Richie floated.
    Richie’s shirt clung damply, outlining the odd hump on his back. We’ll