EPILOGUE
April Cannon watched her duffel bag disappear in a blaze of light. Her seven companions (one of whom was her retired boss, Harvey Keck) were making last-minute checks of equipment.
She turned to Max. “You’re sure you don’t want to come?” She was lovely in the green-tinged light.
“No,” he said. “I don’t like surprises, and I think you’re going to find a lot of them out there.”
She touched his arm. “We’ll be careful.”
They were planning on exploring the links to the Eden terminus. The expedition had an ample supply of food and water. They carried pressure suits and oxygen masks and contamination test kits and spare parts and a wide array of sensing equipment. If everything went well, they would be back in two weeks with a wealth of detail about the worlds beyond Eden. (For the time being, at least, the Maze was being left alone.)
“Max,” she asked, “what are you going to do? Buy an island in the Bahamas and retire?”
He grinned. “I’m going to try to track down our visitor.”
She shivered. “It seems to be gone now,” she said. “I’d let it be.”
“I think we have an obligation to try to find it.”
“An obligation to whom?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe to the creature. I have a certain fondness for it.”
“It might be dangerous.”
“Maybe. But we know it has a sense of humor. And it rescues kids. I’d like very much to talk with it.”
Harvey signaled her. Ready to go.
“Be careful, Max,” she said.
“Sure.” He was having a little trouble with his voice. “You too. Come back, okay?”
“Count on it.” She moved suddenly, unexpectedly, into his arms, warm and yielding, and turned her face up. He kissed her, long and deep and wet.