HOMECOMING
BY MIGUEL HIDALGO
What lasts forever? Does love?
Does death?... Nothing lasts
forever.... Not even forever
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, April 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The large horse plodded slowly over the shifting sand.
The rider was of medium size, with huge, strong hands and seeminglyhollow eyes. Strange eyes, alive and aflame. They had no place inthe dust-caked, tired body, yet there they were, seeking, alwaysseeking—searching the clear horizon, and never seeming to find whatthey sought.
The horse moved faster now. They were nearing a river; the water wouldbe welcome on tired bodies and dry throats. He spurred his horse,and when they reached the water's edge, he dismounted and unsaddledthe horse. Then both man and horse plunged headlong into the waitingtorrent, deep into the cool embrace of the clear liquid. They soaked itinto their pores and drank deeply of it, feeling life going once morethrough their veins. Satisfied, they lifted themselves from the water,and the man lay down on the yellow sand of the river bank to sleep.
When he awoke, the sun was almost setting. The bright shafts of redlight spilled across the sky, making the mountains silent scarletshadows on the face of the rippling water. Quickly he gathereddriftwood, and built a small fire. From his pack he removed some ofthe coffee he had found in one of the ruined cities. He brought waterfrom the river in the battered coffee-pot he had salvaged, and while hewaited for it to boil, he went to his horse, Conqueror, stroking hismane and whispering in his ear. Then he led him silently to a grassyslope where he hobbled him and left him for the night.
In the fading light, he ate the hard beef jerky and drank the scaldingcoffee. Refreshed and momentarily content, he sat staring into thedying fire, seeing the bright glowing coals as living fingers clutchingat the wood in consuming embrace, taking all and returning nothing butashes.
Slowly his eyelids yielded. His body sagged, and blood seemed to fillhis brain, bathing it in a gentle, warm flood.
He slept. His brain slept.
But the portion of his brain called memory stirred. It was all alone;all else was at rest. Images began to appear, drawn from inexhaustiblefiles, wherein are kept all thoughts, past, present, and future....
It was the night before he was to go overseas. World War III had beendeclared, and he had enlisted, receiving his old rank of captain. Hewas with his wife in the living room of their home. They had put thechildren to bed—their sons—and now sat on the couch, watching theblazing fire. It was then that he had showed it to her.
"I've got something to tell you, and something to show you."
He had removed the box from his pocket and opened it. And heard her cryof surprised joy.
"Oh, a ring, and it's a diamond, too!" she cried in her rich, happyvoice which always seemed to send a thrill through his body.
"It's for you; so long as you wear it, I'll come back, even from thedead, if need be. Read the inscription."
She held the ring up to the light and read aloud, "It is forever."
Then she had slipped the ring on her finger