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on the children's faces。 At last； Nathan Lee remembered the knife。 He crawled up through the canvas covering and cut the rope； and the sea grew still。 He was alone。
* * *
*
HE DRIFTED ALL NIGHT； shivering； legs stuck in the emptied rubber bag； shoulders and head wrapped in sailcloth。 Slowly his warmth returned； enough of it to function。 In the morning； he figured out the mast。 It was only two feet taller than he was。 The pole fit into a socket and had a crosspiece。 The sail was little more than what he'd already used it for； a bedsheet。 But once he got the parts assembled； it caught the wind。
He was no sailor。 He obeyed his little pass； due east。 When the wind grew too boisterous； he pulled the sail down and rowed。 When the air calmed； he put the sail up again。 Three days passed。
The sea grew strange。
On the second night； he heard gulls and thought his boat was reaching land。 He pushed his head through the rent canvas ceiling； and there was no land。 Rather a gigantic ship was silently bearing down on him。
It was lit like a city； with an immense flat deck that tabled out above the waters。 It was an aircraft carrier； and could only be American。 〃Help；〃 he shouted。 He stood and waved his arms。 With the last of his matches； he lit a few pages torn from his book and held the little torch above his head。 The scraps of flame lasted mere seconds。 He kept flapping his arm in the air。
The waters were still； not a whisper of wind。 The carrier drew nearer。 It soared in the night； a vast silent metropolis。 He didn't see a single person up there。 Clouds of gulls swarmed in the lights； barking and cawing。 〃Hello；〃 he yelled。 〃Help！〃 Now he could see the American flag drifting in the ship's self…made breeze。
It became evident the carrier would miss him by a good twenty or thirty yards。 A metal staircase ran down one side； almost to water level。 There was not one thing he could do to get closer。 Even if his sail had been set； there was no wind。 He wiggled the rudder to try and row himself。
USSTruman； the prow proclaimed。 The gray steel wall towered overhead； four or five stories high。 Now he could hear the rumble of the turn screws。 〃America；〃 he shouted。 〃Help。 Down here。〃
It swept past him。 He stood in his little boat and watched the lights sink westward。 The clamor of gulls died。 Night took over。 He grew cold and sheltered from the piercing stars。
After another day； he came to a flock of green and turquoise icebergs。 They seemed not to move in the lapping sea； planets unto themselves。 He entered their maze and floated among their towering cliffs。 He patted their flanks。 He chipped off flakes of primeval ice to suck on。 That night he pulled the boat onto a diamond…hard strand and made camp on the ice。 But he couldn't sleep for the beauty of it all。 The sea glowed with neon green plankton or some other inner light。 The aurora borealis hung overhead like rainbows dreaming。
After the violence of theIchotski； this crystal world was a silent paradise。 He decided to stay another day and night； and then another。 The sun emerged and； ironically； for the first time in weeks； he was warm。。。on the back of an iceberg。 Days he spent exploring； resting； writing in his book。 On one of his expeditions to the backside of the iceberg； he found an animal trapped inside the glass walls。 It had a feline shape。 With an axe he might have been able to chop it free and feel its tawny fur。 But all he had was his little paring knife； good for slicing apples and rope and not much more。
He stayed on a fourth day； eating canned sardines and a hash of horsemeat or dog left from the Soviet days。 That night he dreamed the animal trapped in the ice was him。 He woke and realized it was no dream； but an omen。 The ice was seducing him with its magic and peace。
At first light； he launched his boat and escaped the gentle icebergs。 There was no way to tell how far he had drifted； nor in what direction。 All he could do was set the little sail and continue east。 When his cans of food were gone； he subsisted on chips of ice from a chunk of the iceberg。 The big glassy lump lay like a carcass on the floor of the boat。
He tried fishing。 That didn't work。 On an empty half acre of island a few inches above sea level； he harvested bits of seaweed。
Looking into the sea； he saw masses of phosphorescent plankton drifting like mountains。 The full moon moaned with the weight of its extraordinary light。 Periodically he prehended that the moans were his。
The science of navigation was utterly beyond him。 Nautical maps and instruments would have been useless。 He had quit trusting his ability to reason。 For all he knew； the currents dragged him backwards each night。 After that； he kept the sail up under the stars and let the wind carry him where it would。
One morning he heard gravel crunching beneath the bow。 The boat stopped； or seemed to。 He raised his head and fog was covering the water like smoke。 He heard the slap of surf washing against a long； wide shore。 Either he had reached the Americas； or beached upon their phantom。 Was there a difference？ He crawled from the boat and staggered on the gravel。 When he looked again； the boat was drifting off into nothingness。
14
Mr。 Swift Goes to Washington
THREEMONTHSLATER
He woke to zebras。
It was the inner edge of dawn。 The forest hung with cold green mist。 And there were zebras。 He looked out from the cave； and for a minute it seemed entirely possible the plague had caught him。 They said it caused intense memories； then intense forgetfulness。 And here was Africa。。。on the crest of the Blue Ridge in the Shenandoahs。
It had taken him over two months to descend from Alaska。 He had crossed many borders； but couldn't remember crossing this one； the slip into his own past。
They dipped their muzzles； browsing the spring tenders。 Their black and white stripes were stark as moons。 The animals didn't seem imaginary。 He could smell their ripe dung。 Twigs snapped when their hooves shifted。 His mother had taught him the four species of zebra。 These had big； rounded ears。
Thunder rolled along the Appalachian furrows。 It would rain again today。 A man appeared from the forest on horseback。 He wore hunter's camouflage and carried an M16 rifle across his saddle。 His horse towered above its striped cousins。 They didn't bolt away； giggling； the way wild zebras should have。 They merely shifted at his approach and went on foraging。 When a foal strayed； the horseman gently turned it back into the group。
Nathan Lee didn't volunteer his presence。 He lay still； trying to wring some explanation from the scene。 If it was not real； he didn't wish to be talking to himself。
The cave walls were stained from old campfires and scratched with grafitti。 Over the centuries； it had sheltered many travelers； apparently including Indians and Revolutionary War soldiers and Confederates and lovers。 One night Nathan Lee had brought Lydia to a cave like this； but she only plained about the mosquito bites。
A second horseman appeared。 A sniper's net with foliage was draped across his shoulders。 He looked like a barbarian in skins； or a scarecrow with vast shoulders。 It was he who spied Nathan Lee's footprints in the mud leading to the cave。 He said something to his partner； who gently herded the zebras into the deeper mist。 They nickered and vanished。
The scarecrow man waited until the zebras were gone。 Then he dismounted and； before Nathan Lee's eyes； he disappeared； too。 He sank down into the mountain laurels and mist and melted from view。 Nathan Lee heard a rifle bolt ratchet。 〃e out；〃 the man called。
Nathan Lee stayed quiet。 His hallucination had diminished to a voice in the forest。
〃I know you're in there。〃
Maybe the apparition would go away。 Then Nathan Lee saw the orange twinkle of muzzle flash； and a bullet was suddenly cutting against his cave walls。 It sizzled and rang。 The chipped stone had a raw； singed odor。 Nathan Lee curled into a ball。 〃Who are you？〃 he yelled。
〃e out。〃
〃I don't want any trouble。 I don't have anything。〃
〃You want another？〃
〃Don't shoot me。〃
〃Stay in there； I will。〃
〃I'm unarmed。〃 Nathan Lee crawled out of the cave。 His joints ached from the damp。 He knew to keep his arms up； hands open。 He walked downhill。
〃Stop there；〃 the voice said。 Not ten feet further； a man's head rested on the ground like a pumpkin。 He rose up and the ground seemed to rise on his back。 His face looked freshly unburied； smeared with soil and wood smoke and leaves in his beard。 Much like Nathan Lee's own face。 He kept the black dot of his muzzle trained on Nathan Lee's eye。
The first horseman in hunter's clothing returned。 His horse's nostrils smoked in the cold。
〃I was passing through；〃 said Nathan Lee。
〃You should have kept passing；〃 the scarecrow said。
〃It started to rain。〃
〃What a coincidence。 Right among the meat。〃
Meat？They thought he was a poacher。 Of zebras？ Had people gotten so hungry？ 〃I'm a physician；〃 he said。 〃I'm on my way to Washington。〃
〃No one's going to Washington these days；〃 said the horseback man。
〃I am。〃
〃Let's see your blood book。〃
Nathan Lee lowered one arm； carefully fetched the i。d。 booklet； and tossed it to the scarecr