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A wave of nausea rippled through him。 He breathed slowly； deeply； until it passed。 Sweat
suddenly covered his skin。 Another surge of nausea gripped him。 Deliberately； he folded the
newspaper and put it back on the pile beside him。
“Where are you going？” Ana asked as Kestrel opened the car door。
Her only answer was the sound of the wind scouring the land。 The car door closed； leaving her
alone with the taste of dust on her tongue。
Manzanar
38 Hours 37 Minutes After Trinity
The wind blew unhindered across the desert； sweeping up dust and grit； shaping and reshaping
the land with careless power。 Inside the squat； fieldstone guardhouse； the wind’s restless howl
was reduced to a low cry of anomie。
The private turned over another card； yawned； and stuck the card back into the deck。 He
rejected the next three cards； cheating at solitaire with bored indifference。 Occasionally he
looked at the utilitarian clock on the wall or leaned forward to get a better view of the dirt road
leading up to Manzanar。
The sound of the car’s approach was masked by the wind。 When the guard saw the dark green
sedan slide to a stop and glimpsed the blond woman at the wheel； he hurriedly gathered up the
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cards and straightened his uniform。
“Vanessa Lyons； BBC；” said the woman； coming up to him and holding out her credentials in a
slim white hand。
The guard took the credentials； gave them a cursory inspection and returned them to Vanessa。
“I’ll call Captain Anderson。 He’ll give you a tour of the facilities and answer whatever questions
you have。” The private spoke carefully； like someone reciting from memory。 “It will be the
captain’s pleasure to entertain you at dinner at 1900。”
“I really wouldn’t want to put you to that much trouble；” began Vanessa earnestly。
“Our pleasure； ma’am；” said the private in fervent tones。 “It’s a welcome break in the routine。”
Vanessa looked at the empty land； the cramped stone guardhouse； and the windblown sand。
Ugly rows of barracks sat back from a wire fence clotted with tumbleweeds and miscellaneous
debris。 She could well imagine the boredom of the men assigned to guard a well…behaved group
of Japanese in the middle of desolation。
“It’s necessary for my research that I go without an escort；” Vanessa said。
“Of course； ma’am。 After dinner； you’ll be on your own。 The Japs here are very polite。 You
shouldn’t have any trouble after the captain introduces you around。”
Vanessa agreed to the inevitable。 She smiled warmly。 “Would you be so kind as to call Captain
Anderson right away； then。 I’m very anxious to look around。”
“Yes； ma’am！”
The private turned away too quickly to see Vanessa’s beguiling smile condense into a hard line。
Outside of Manzanar
39 Hours 21 Minutes After Trinity
Darkness gathered like a tide； pooling in nameless ravines； spilling out across sand and
sagebrush； lapping at the awesome Sierras。 Kestrel ations of
light with a poet’s eyes； knowing that each day’s end was a beauty never before revealed。
“Wait here；” he told Ana； “until I come back for you。”
Ana watched him walk around to the back of the car。 The raised trunk lid cut off her view。 She
heard the rattle of the rusty tin pails。 There were two distinct thumps as the heavy metal balls hit
the bottom of the pails。 The trunk lid closed； revealing Kestrel again。
Although color had been drained from the land； some light remained。 Ana saw Kestrel turn
away from the car； carrying one pail in his right hand。 He scrambled out of the ravine which hid
the car。 For a moment he was silhouetted against the blue…black sky； then he vanished。
Ana hesitated for only an instant before she got out of the car as silently as she could and
followed Kestrel。 She was worried by the change that had come over him since he had first
opened the trunk in the high Sierra pass。 Since that moment he had seemed to recede from her
like a dream； becoming more distant as the afternoon light had thickened into sunset。
Ana knew he was ill。 She wanted to help him； but did not know how。 He could be so remote；
folded in upon himself like the immaculate curves of a lotus bud； aware only of his own silent
center。
Yet when he had sensed her growing fear； he had gathered her into his arms； held her within his
silence like a precious memory。 She could not sit now and watch him walk alone into the night。
Sand and rocks turned beneath Ana’s feet。 Brittle brush caught the folds of the dress that was
bright red by day； black in the twilight。 Cautiously； she peered up over the edge of the ravine。
Thirty feet away； Kestrel waited； his face a distinct paleness against the dusk。 He was looking
toward her。 She realized that he had heard her follow him。 She shrank back； not wanting to face
his anger。 His footsteps approached； then stopped at the edge of the arroyo。
“I just wanted to help…” Ana’s voice thinned into silence。
Wordlessly； Kestrel set down the heavy pail。
“You’ve been so far away；” said Ana。 “I was afraid you would’t come back。”
Just as the silence became unbearable to Ana； Kestrel reached out to her； pulled her against him。
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His skin was cool； chilled by night closing swiftly around him。
Ana held on to him with surprising strength； understanding only that at this moment he needed
her warmth。 He kissed her very gently； and just as gently released her。
“If you must follow me；” he said； “you can bring the other bucket。”
“I’m sorry。 I’ll go back。 I’ll wait for you。”
“No； it’s better this way。 Bring the bucket。”
She turned away。
“Wait；” said Kestrel。 “In this you must obey me。 When you carry that bucket； do not come close
to the other bucket。 The buckets must not touch。”
“Yes。”
She scrambled back to the car； snatched up the handle of the pail and returned。 Kestrel had
climbed out of the ravine。 He pulled her up its crumbling side with an ease that belied sickness。
Thirty feet away from him； the other tin pail glowed faintly in the twilight。
“Wait here；” said Kestrel。 “When I pick up my pail； follow me。 When I walk； you walk。 When I
stop； you stop。 Don’t talk。 Sound carries far in this land。”
Ana followed Kestrel across a subtle rise in the desert floor。 The land looked flat； but was not。 It
was like an enormous rumpled sheet draped across the foot of the Sierras。
With each step the desert and the night closed more fully around her。 Her eyes continued to
adjust； finding illumination where she thought there was none。 Kestrel set down his pail and
walked back to Ana。
“Manzanar is just ahead；” he murmured。 “I’m going to bury the buckets before we go in。 When
we get through the fence； I’ll hide until you find your family。”
Kestrel dug in the sandy soil near the base of a clump of sagebrush； using one of the pails as a
shovel。 Each time the metal lip of the pail scraped over hidden rocks； Ana held her breath。
The*1 sounds seemed loud in the desert’s vast silence； as vivid as lightning at midnight。 Kestrel；
knowing that some noise was unavoidable； kept on digging。
He lowered the larger piece of uranium into the hole he had made。 Quickly； he shoved in a layer
of loose soil； tipped the bucket on its side in the hole； and filled both bucket and hole until only
a half…inch of metal pail poked above the sand to mark the burial place。 Thirty feet away； he
repeated the process with the smaller piece of uranium。
When Kestrel was finished； he selected three small branches from the litter at the base of the
sagebrush clump。 He used the branches as guides pointing from one piece of uranium to the
other。 The third branch he jammed into the lip of the rise。 Then he stood motionless；
memorizing landmarks that stood out of the increasing gloom。
The lights of Manzanar glowed more brightly with each moment； so close Ana thought she
could touch them。 It was an illusion fostered by clear air and her own anxiety； Manzanar’s outer
fence was a hundred yards away； the barracks several hundred yards beyond that。
“Come。”
Ana started at Kestrel’s voice so close to her ear。 Silently she followed him。 When they reached
the fence； Kestrel took a small pair of wire cutters from his pocket。 The cutters were suited
more for florists wire than Army fencing； but Kestrel was both strong and patient。 The wires
parted。
Kestrel guided Ana through； then pulled a tumbleweed over to conceal the break in the fence。
Ana waited； her heart beating so loudly that she could hear nothing else。
“This way；” breathed Kestrel。
He led her closer to the barracks lights。 As they approached the buildings； they heard voices
raised； people calling back and forth across the barracks rows。 The smell of a compost pile
replaced the astringent odor of sage。 A garden’s orderly rows marched toward the first building
a few hundred feet away。
Kestrel stopped。 Ana moved until she was so close that his breath warmed her lips。
“I’ll wait for you here；” said Kestrel。 His hands framed her face。 “If you aren’t alone； I must
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assume you are a prisoner。 I will kill whoever is with you； Ana。 Come alone if you can。”
Ana remembered Refugio’s swift death； but the memory had no impact。 She realized suddenly
that she did not care who Kestrel had killed； or that