Footprints of Thunder by James F. David

on the radio now too, but you could still find something worth listening to if you searched. They ran old radio shows sometimes, and there was big band music if she wanted that. Tonight, though, she wanted to listen to talk, and there was lots of talk on the New York City airwaves. Mariel tuned in one of her favorites. She wasn’t loyal to any of the shows. If they talked of sex or politics, or if they ran down religion, she would tune them out. Mariel had long ago settled her opinions on all those topics.
    Tonight people were calling in with movie trivia questions or just to talk about favorite scenes from films. Mariel settled in to listen. For a while they talked about last lines in movies. Mariel knew the last line in The Wizard of Oz right away, it was “Oh, Auntie Em, there’s no place like home.” She also knew the last line from Gone With the Wind, but it took three callers to get “tomorrow is another day.” Everyone kept guessing “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Mariel was enjoying the movie memories, trying to remember where and with whom she had seen the movie. Then someone changed the topic to actors who played James Bond. Mariel had seen some of the James Bond movies with Phillip but never liked them. They were too violent, and Mr. Bond was certainly oversexed. Still, she remembered both Sean Connery and Roger Moore had played James Bond. Someone called in to say that David Niven had played James Bond too, in a movie called Casino Royal. She’d never seen it but couldn’t imagine David Niven as James Bond. David Niven was a gentleman, he wouldn’t behave like that secret agent. She would have searched for another station, but she was waiting to hear who the fourth actor was who played James Bond. She was still rocking, crocheting, and listening by her open window when she drifted off to sleep.

    Mariel woke when her head hit the floor, but she kept her eyes tightly shut till the pain and shock subsided. Opening her eyes to total darkness, Mariel found herself and her chair tipped over onto the floor, and the only light was moonlight from the window. The power was out again. Mariel still hurt from the fall— and because she was old, she admitted it to herself, she knew there was real danger of breaking bones from even a small fall.
    She lay still, waiting for the pain to seep away so she could feel her bones, but now she began to think she was deaf. There were no city sounds as there should be outside her window. Mariel felt her legs and arms. She would be sore for a month but nothing was broken. She felt around on the floor for her glasses, found them in one piece, and put them on. Then she got slowly to her feet.
    She needed candles and they were in the hall linen closet. Mariel started forward, confident of her footing even in the dark, but she took only two steps before she kicked something on the floor. She bent down and picked up the blue vase from her end table. Whatever had knocked Mariel over had knocked off her vase, Mariel proceeded cautiously after that and found the floor littered with lamps, pillows, and knickknacks. The contents of her apartment had been tossed around, as if by a hurricane. Slowly she walked down the hall to the closet, carefully testing the floor before she placed each foot.
    The candles were where they should be and she found a holder with them. Unfortunately the matches were in the kitchen.
    The candlelight lit up the room like a search light. It was a mess. Dishes and canned goods had fallen from the cupboards, littering the floor and counters. Mariel lit another candle, securing it with dripped wax on a plate. In the living room she set up two more candles and then used the one in the holder to look for her portable radio in her bedroom.
    There she found broken glass all over her bedspread and on the floor. The window frame was empty. Mariel shook her head in disbelief. What could have happened? She clucked her tongue at the work it would take to make