"Mister--" She stepped forward. She didn't even know the first words to say. The crowd stared at her back; she felt them staring. "Mister--"
The man turned to her with a tired smile.
"Mister," she said, "do you know Knockwood Hill in Greenwater, Alabama?"
The old man spoke over his shoulder to someone within the ship. A moment later a photographic map was handed out and the man held it, waiting.
"You know the big oak on top of that hill, mister?" The big oak. The place where Willie's father was shot and hung and found swinging in the morning wind.
"Yes."
"Is that still there?" asked Hattie.
"It's gone," said the old man. "Blown up. The hill's all gone, and the oak tree too. You see?" He touched the photograph.
"Let me see that," said Willie, jerking forward and looking at the map.
Hattie blinked at the white man, heart pounding.
"Tell me about Greenwater," she said quickly.
"What do you want to know?"
"About Dr. Phillips. Is he still alive?"
A moment in which the information was found in a clicking machine within the rocket .
"Killed in the war."
"And his son?"
"Dead."
"What about their house?"
"Burned. Like all the other houses."
"What about that other big tree on Knockwood Hill?"
"All the trees went--burned."
"Thattree went, you're sure?" said Willie.
"Yes."
Willie's body loosened somewhat.
"And what about that Mr. Burton's house and Mr. Burton?"
"No houses at all left, no people."
"You know Mrs. Johnson's washing shack, my mother's place?"
The place where she was shot.
"That's gone too. Everything's gone. Here are the pictures, you can see for yourself."
The pictures were there to be held and looked at and thought about. The rocket was full of pictures and answers to questions. Any town, any building, any place.