The Answer

by

H. BEAM PIPER


For a moment, after the screen door snapped and wakened him, Lee
Richardson sat breathless and motionless, his eyes still closed, trying
desperately to cling to the dream and print it upon his conscious memory
before it faded.

"Are you there, Lee?" he heard Alexis Pitov's voice.

"Yes, I'm here. What time is it?" he asked, and then added, "I fell
asleep. I was dreaming."

It was all right; he was going to be able to remember. He could still
see the slim woman with the graying blonde hair, playing with the little
dachshund among the new-fallen leaves on the lawn. He was glad they'd
both been in this dream together; these dream-glimpses were all he'd had
for the last fifteen years, and they were too precious to lose. He
opened his eyes. The Russian was sitting just outside the light from the
open door of the bungalow, lighting a cigarette. For a moment, he could
see the blocky, high-cheeked face, now pouched and wrinkled, and then
the flame went out and there was only the red coal glowing in the
darkness. He closed his eyes again, and the dream picture came back to
him, the woman catching the little dog and raising her head as though to
speak to him.