Fiction

In those days-I mean the Forties and Fifties, of course-people were so extremely reticent and modest that the hard questions might not even come to mind, let alone to words. Perhaps if I had discovered all at one blow that Oliver was in truth an Olive. I might have reacted more strongly. But it didn't…

The sky was still black when Joe Hennessy came out to stand in his driveway, and the moon was nothing more than a shadow. It wasn't unusual for Hennessy to be out at odd hours; he hadn't been able to sleep for two weeks, not since he was promoted to detective. He could feel his…

This was the year the summer would not end in Europe. Even the terrorists went about their work in short-sleeved shirts and sandals, hurtling from target to target in air-conditioned BMWs. It was the Chernobyl summer also, and a Polish emigré she knew linked the hazy sunny days and humid nights to the Soviet rads…

Since we arrived in Banaras, I've become very sick. David is not sick, not yet; but he's also in danger of dying. We don't know yet. Many Indians believe they will go directly to Nirvana if they die in Banaras. They want to get out of this world and never come back. We're Americans, and…

Lavalle Freeman is coming home from Africa with a parasite. Every morning for the last three weeks at the base he woke up listless and could hardly drag himself out of his bunk for drills in the humid mist. Then he began to urinate blood. The Army doctor outside Kalingani talked with him for half…

My wife and I, we have this game we play called "Confusing the Dog." My wife, she plays the game, knows all the rules, but she doesn't know I named it. I named it about the time I realized we were hooked-us and the dog. The game goes like this: I go to bed or…

Dan had fallen asleep waiting for Nick and this Patty Keith, fallen deep into the lapping rhythm of a muggy Chesapeake evening, and when he heard the slam of car doors the sound came first from a dream. In the hushed amber light of the foyer Dan offered Nick a dazed and disoriented father's hug….

Five-five and one-twelve, thirteen years old, out of an obscure elementary school, a complete unknown. Dale Wheeler walked into the boys' locker room to spin the dial of his combination lock. It was Emerson Junior High, a school with a double gym with a floor the color of whiskey upon which street shoes were never…

On a deceptively mild evening in the fall of 1964, a bomb exploded in Hayes-Bick. It had wobbled in like a rugby ball tossed into a scrum and lay there innocently for a few seconds, as if waiting to be kicked. Then it blew up. Dense, acrid smoke instantly filled the cafeteria. There was no…