The Happy Man — Gerald W. Page

Nelson saw the girl at the same time she saw him. He had just roundedan outcropping of rock about ten miles from the East Coast Mausoleum.They were facing each other, poised defensively, eyes alertly on eachother, about twenty feet apart. She was blond and lean with theconditioning of outdoor life, almost to the point of thinness. Andalthough not really beautiful, she was attractive and young, probablynot yet twenty. Her features were even and smooth, her hair wild abouther face. She wore a light blouse and faded brown shorts made from acoarse homespun material. Nelson had not expected to run into anyoneand apparently, neither had she. They stood staring at each other fora long time; how long, Nelson was unable to decide, later.A little foolishly, Nelson realized that something would have to bedone by one of them. I'm Hal Nelson, he said. It had been a longtime since he had last spoken; his voice sounded strange in thewilderness. The girl moved tensely, but did not come any closer tohim. Her eyes stayed fixed on him and he knew that her ears werestraining for any sound that might warn her of a trap.Nelson started to take a step, then checked himself, cursing himselffor his eager blundering. The girl stepped back once, quickly, like ananimal uncertain if it had been threatened. Nelson stepped back,slowly, and spoke again. I'm a waker, like you. You can tell by myrags. It was true enough, but the girl only frowned. Her alertnessdid not relax.I've been one for ten or twelve years. I escaped from a Commune inTannerville when I was in my senior year. They never even got me intoone of the coffins. As I said, I'm a waker. He spoke slowly, gentlyand he hoped soothingly. You don't have to be afraid of me. Now tellme who you are.