Trish waited, perched on the couch, her little hands clutching the edge of the cushions, listening... peering up at the ceiling. Every time a giant walked or stomped on anything in the neighborhood, a vibration passed through the basement walls and the ceiling lampshade tingled.

Trish heard a giant walk up on the top of the hill. The steps were slow, dragging: Whmpf... whmpf... whmpf... The vibrations got smaller and smaller, and faded away.

She listened for her mother's footsteps on the ceiling. None came; her mother was very quiet.

On the wall facing Trish hung a battery-powered plastic clock, made to resemble a Swiss cuckoo-clock. Trish watched the clock tick away to eight o'clock. The hands of the clock touched the numbers 12 and 8.

But the little bird did not pop its head out of the clock. It never did; the clock broke long ago.

Trish stared at the cuckoo bird's closed door. "Koo-koo," she whispered in the gloom; the room was almost dark now. "Koo-koo..."

The door at the top of the stairs creaked, and Pat came tiptoeing down, carrying two large plastic bags of food.

"Mom!" Trish rushed up and hugged Pat's legs; her mother was wearing a jogging suit and sneakers, and a Glock pistol in a hip holster. "Sorry," the girl whispered, "I forgot to be quiet. Are you going to shoot the giant?"

Pat put down the plastic bags, leaned down and hugged Trish with trembling hands.

"Only if he comes here, hon. Now let's eat. Go to the bathroom first, and wash your hands."

"Okay."

Trish walked with hesitant steps as she went for the small bathroom in the corner. Pat unpacked the bags on the floor, sorting out and putting certain items on the low table: batteries, flashlight, a box of bullets for the Glock, candles, cigarette lighters, knives, pair of scissors, plastic eating utensils, paper plates.

Trish returned. Pat told her to wait a minute, and went upstairs. When Pat came down the stairs again, she was carrying a 2-gallon drum of water and an old FM radio set.

"Are you hungry, hon? I saved some dinner, but it's cold..."

Trish nodded; Pat put seven candles in a Chanukka brass chandelier.

Before she lit the candles with the lighter, she covered the window-shutters with cardboard, so that no light might leak outside and give them away. They ate their cold dinner on paper plates, slowly, not speaking, always listening for noises. Trish drank orange juice; Pat drank ice tea.

Trish's appetite was good; she ate all her chicken, and every last piece of spinach. Eat your spinach and be strong, thought Pat. Be very, very strong...

Before she had finished eating, Pat put new batteries in the old radio and turned the frequency knob. She set the volume so low it was just barely audible. Static rustled from the speaker. Pat slowly adjusted the knob, until she found what must be the emergency-broadcast channel she had picked up in the car. The voice sounded different, and the signal shaky:

"Air Force and Army un... are now engaging the hostile ...s in Los Angeles, San Francisco and San Diego. Civilian casualties continue to ... A military source has admitted that some 'collateral damage' is inevitable in urban a...

"It ... that ... g... have now appeared in the entire American ... and also in ... ... Central Asia, China and Au... ... ... House urges calm and encourages people to ... rescue personnel if po... ble. If you see a hostile attacking a power line or transmi... th... please alert a public off...

"From Hollywood is reported that giants have attacked the home of ... wait... a new report from Washing... th... "

Moments of silence followed.

"Mom -"

"Shhh, hon."

"An un... report ... Wash... D.C., states that the hostile ... have emerged j... ...side the White House and the Capitol, and ... n... breaking ...o the buildings. Th... are using ...m ... clubs to pound down w... ...d ... inside. The whereabouts of ... ...sident and Cabinet are ... ... confirmed, but... what? Jesus. Have that conf... w... f... ... "

Static filled the loudspeaker. Mother and daughter looked at each other in the soft, warm candlelight.

A sound like thunder rattled the windows. Pat went into the bathroom � she kept losing control of her bladder � then put on a baseball cap and headed for the staircase. Pat ran after and tugged at her arm, pulling her back.

"Don't go away again! Don't wanna be alone here!" The girl sobbed; her hands shook Pat's arm forcefully.

Pat hesitated with one foot on the bottom step.

"The giant is still there!" little Trish said, forgetting to whisper. "It's waiting for us to come out! You said we're gonna stay here! Stay, please!"

Pat began to speak, but her voice died away. She stepped away from the staircase and put her hand on Trish's head.

"I won't leave you, hon," she whispered. "I'm here."

Trish whispered a question: "Is Dad coming?"

Pat let out a shuddering sigh. Damn you for not being here, Fred. Damn you for making me divorce you. Damn you for me missing you now.

"No, hon. He's not coming."



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