"You had surgery."

"Minor, now-"

"Sir, if you're the director, I'm supposed to tell someone when you're awake."

"Why?" And why had she asked about the lightning? Was Annie a victim, and did they somehow connect him with her? He didn't want his mind to run away with him.

"I don't know, sir. I just do what I'm told. Six nurses and two aides are handling this whole floor, and some floors have fewer staff than that, so-"

"I need to know where my phone is. I carry it with me, and it's not in my uniform. I know you're going to tell me to stay away from my uniform anyway, but-"

"On the contrary, sir. You were sponge bathed when you were brought here, and if you're ambulatory, I think you're supposed to get dressed."

"You think?" This couldn't be right. Something was wrong. David had been sure he'd have to sneak out, but now he was being given the bum's rush?

"I'll get my supervisor, but you might as well start getting dressed. Can you do it yourself?" "Of course, but-"

"Get started then. I'll be right back. Or she will." David had overestimated his strength. He pulled his stuff from the closet and sat in a chair to dress, but he was soon short of breath and dizzier than ever. His whole head felt afire, and it seemed his wound was oozing over both ears, but when he felt under the bandaging, he felt nothing. He didn't want to think about the first time that dressing came off.

With his uniform on and only socks and shoes to go, David opened the door wider to get light from the hall. He peered into the mirror and shuddered. Still in his mid-twenties with smooth, clear, dark skin and nearly black hair and eyes, he had often been mistaken for a teenager. Never again. When had he aged so?

His face looked thin and drawn and, yes, his color lighter. He lowered his head and peeked atop it where the bandaging evidenced blood and ooze. The outer wrapping extended over his ears and beneath his chin, reminding him of dental patients from old movies. David's head seemed to push against the tight wrapping, and when he gingerly put on his uniform cap, he knew it was more than his imagination. He couldn't be sure how thick the bandages were, but between that and the swelling of his head, his cap rode atop him as if several sizes too small. Any thought of covering the effects of his stitching to avoid attention was hopeless. Maybe he could find a bigger-much bigger-cap, but there was no way to hide the wrap that extended under his chin anyway.

The supervising nurse knocked gently and stepped in as David was pulling on his socks. She was a bottle blonde, tall and thin, about twice his age. He had to straighten up to breathe and let the pain subside every few seconds.

"Let me help you," she said, clearly Scandinavian, kneeling and putting on his socks and shoes and tying them. David was so overwhelmed he nearly wept. Could she be a Christian? He wanted to ask. Anyone with a servant spirit like that was either a believer or a candidate. "Ma'am," he said, trying to remember to talk softly. She looked up at him and he studied her forehead, searching, hoping for the mark of the believer. None. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said quickly. "Happy to help and wish I could help more. If I had my way, you would be with us a couple more days at least, maybe more." "I'd just as soon leave. I-"

"Oh, I'm sure you would. No one wants to stay, and who can blame them? All the excitement, the resurrection, and all. But the potentate has called a meeting of directors and above, his office, at 2200 hours. You are expected." "I am?"

"When his office was told you had succumbed to the heat and had been injured and operated on, we were informed that if you were alive and ambulatory, you were to be there." "I see."

"I'm glad someone does. You, sir, should be a patient. I wouldn't be running around so soon-"

"I was told this was superficial, minor surgery."

"Minor surgery is an operation on someone else. You've heard that, I'm sure. You know a nurse did the procedure, and good as she was, she was pressed into duty-"

"Do you know who that was? I'm pretty sure she was Native-"

"Hannah Palemoon," she said.

"I wonder if she's got my phone. It was in my-"

"I doubt it, Director. You'll find your wallet and keys and ID unmolested. We know better than to confiscate things from someone at your level."

"I appreciate that, but-"

"No one took your phone, sir. Could you have dropped it where you fell, left it in your vehicle?"

David cocked his head. Possible, but unlikely. He had not been talking on the phone when he fell, best he could remember, so it would have been in his pocket. "Where would I find Nurse Palem-"

"I told you, Director. She would not have your phone, and I'm not going to tell you where she is. We're working twenty-four on and twenty-four off here, and she's off. If she's like me, she sleeps the first twelve of those twenty-four hours off, and she ought to be allowed to."

David nodded, but he couldn't wait to get back to his computer and look her up in the personnel directory. "Ma'am, I have to find an employee I'm worried about. Name's Annie Christopher. Cargo chief of the Phoenix but assigned crowd control at sector 53 today."

"That's not good."

"So I've heard. Lightning there?"

"Bad. Several deaths and injuries. I can check to see if she's in our system. You might check the morgue." David flinched. "I'd appreciate it if you'd check your system."

"I will, sir. Then you had better get to your quarters and relax before your meeting. You know as well as I do you're in no condition to be sitting at a table, thrilling as it may be to meet with a man who was dead this morning and is alive tonight. Follow me." She led him to the nurses' station, where she searched the computer. "No Christopher," she said, "but our entries have been hopelessly delayed."

"She would have had an employee badge," David said. "And it should have been swiped by a wand." "So the morgue?" he said, again trying to cover his emotion.

"Look on the bright side," she said. "Maybe she wasn't a victim at all."

That would almost be worse, David decided. Why could he not reach her, and why would she not have tried to reach him? Well, maybe she had. He had to find his phone before the meeting.

"Nothing," Rayford said. "David hasn't accessed his computer for hours, and I'm getting no answer on his phone. Now it's not even letting me leave a message, as it he's turned it off."

"Strange," Albie said. "So Pueblo doesn't even know we're coming."

"And we're not going if we don't know where it is."

"We'll find out."

"You're a resourceful guy, Albie, but-"

"I love the impossible. But you're the boss. I need your permission."

"What's your plan?"

"To find out if your new look and ID work."

"Oh, boy."

"C'mon, man. Confidence."

"The plan, Albie."

"I'll be the ranking officer down there. I blame the computer delay on all the excitement or the incompetence in New Babylon. Who can argue that? You're with me. If they demand ID, you've got it. You're no longer just a civilian helping out, though. You're a recruit, a trainee."

"Uh-huh."

"Not only do I insist on a car, but I'll get out of them the location of the bunker."

"This I've got to see."

"I love showing off."

Rayford slapped Albie's computer shut. "Tell me about it."

Kenny Bruce tried to tug Buck toward the barrier, as if knowing his dad could get him past it. But Buck was anchored to the bed. He felt as if he'd survived a plane crash. Or hadn't. It was as if his spine were compacted, every muscle, bone, joint, and tendon tender. He sat there trying to muster the strength to rise and stretch and make his way to his wife and the others.

Kenny, apparently resigned to patience, climbed onto his father's lap and put a hand on each side of his face. He looked into Buck's eyes and said, "Mama?"