A great light glared behind them. Willis turned. It sank slowly— too bright to see, blinding, drowning the background—Willis stared into it. God, what was it? Sinking… faded.
Willis didn't answer, and small wonder. A great greenish light drew fire across the sky, moving up, lasting for seconds before it burst and died. Willis found himself looking east. His lips pursed in a soundless Oh. then, "Mac! Turn around!"
MacDonald turned.
The curdled sky was rising like a curtain; you could see beneath the edge. The edge was perfectly straight, a few degrees above the horizon. Above was the green-and-orange glow of the comet's coma. Below, blackness in which stars glowed.
"The Earth's shadow," MacDonald said. "A shadow cast through the coma. I wish my wife had lived to see this. Just another year…"
A great light glared behind them. Willis turned. It sank slowly— too bright to see, blinding, drowning the background—Willis stared into it. God, what was it? Sinking… faded.
"I hope you hid your eyes," MacDonald said.
Willis saw only agony. He blinked; it made no difference. He said, "I think I'm blind." He reached out, patted rock, seeking the reassurance of a human hand.
Softly MacDonald said, "I don't think it matters."
Rage flared and died. That quickly, Willis knew what he meant. MacDonald's hands took his wrists and moved them around a rock. "Hug that tight. I'll tell you what I see."
