Easy to feel a sense of the ice-cold infinite out there, too, for whom the death struggles on this planet were of merely academic interest.

Perversely, that made me feel better.

David, I said, and was glad that my voice sounded steady now. I need you to send messages to all the Wardens you can reach. Tell them weve identified two main areas where they can send refugees, and give them coordinates and the details. Give them the coordinates of the other black corners, too. Even if some will only hold a few people, its something. We should use it.

Im on it, he said, and oddly enough, he laughed.

What?

Coordinating. Isnt that what Lewis tried to sentence us to from the start?

The radio turned itself off.

I leaned back in the seat, which no longer felt remotely comfy after the long, long hours, and glanced over at the Djinn driver. So, I said. How you doing?

I didnt really expect an answer, and I didnt get one.

It was a long drive to the next major town.

We never quite reached it.

The sun was just coming up, and we still had six hours or so to go to the next town big enough to merit the name, when I finally put my foot down and said that we needed beds, showers, food, and restrooms. That wasnt as tough as it sounded to achieve; two curves of the road later, we spotted a roadside motel, the no- name-brand kind made of bravely painted cinder blocks that doesnt have to go into double digits on room numbers. Technically, it was a motor court. I wasnt sure what the difference was, except that motor court sounded slightly more upscale than no-tell motel.

It wasnt.

The office was locked, but somebody had already done yeoman work breaking in the door, which swung wide open. The cash register was on the floor, cracked and empty. There was a TV missing from a stand in the corner, cable connections left dangling. Looters always take the TVs. And it always seems insane, but never more than now.

There were keys hanging on hooks behind the counters. I grabbed three and tossed one each to Kevin and Cherise. Be careful, I said. Could be anybody out there. Make sure you lock the doors once youre inside.

Kevin cast a significant look at the busted office door. Yeah, he said. Thatll help. What do they make these things out of, cardboard? An arthritic eighty-year-old on a walker could kick these things down.

Your body odor could knock it down faster, Cherise said crisply. I cannot wait for a shower. They want to go all Psycho on me, fine. At least Ill die clean.

She held out her arms, and Kevin passed her the toddler, who was awake, alert, and watching me with shining black eyes. He was drooling on himself. I didnt take it as a compliment. Come on, Herbert.

You are not calling him Herbert, Kevin said, as Cherise got the boy situated on her hip.

Okay, how about Ronald? Im trying to go with a dead president theme, here.

Hes too good looking. Go with Thomas.

Tommy, Cherise said immediately. Jefferson. Yeah, okay. Hows that, Tommy? You like that, big man? She made nonsense sounds to him, and Tommy laughed and clapped his hands. Tommy it is. Awesome. Tommy and I are going to get clean.

Enjoy, I said. I was going to be in hot pursuit of that shower, but first I wanted to go through the office. The looters had probably taken everything of value, but I wasnt looking for things to pawn or spend.

Kevin hesitated at the door. You going to be okay?

I flipped a hand at him without looking up from the contents of a drawer. He shrugged and went away.

The drawer seemed heavy, although there wasnt much in it. I frowned playing with it, and realized that it had a false bottom. I pressed on the back, and the front popped up.

Underneath that lay a big, black semiautomatic pistol, with two full clips and a box of bullets . . . and a sawed-off shotgun, and shells.

Sweet, I said, and stuffed it all into a recyclable shopping bag that was lying on the floor. Small-business owners. Like Boy Scouts, always prepared.

I also found a private stash of alcohol, which I left, except for one bottle I planned to use for first aid. Or morale emergencies, whichever came first. There was also a pretty significant first aid kit, well stocked, and some shelf-stable cookies, power bars, and chips that I put into another bag.

I was feeling pretty good by the time I locked the flimsy door on my motel room. The room was clean and empty, and as far as I could tell, nobody had bothered to loot it. The bathroom still had soap and shampoo. With the power off, it was dark as a cave, but Id brought a flashlight from the office, and set it up to shine on the shower area. I dumped my filthy clothes in the sink to soak. The water was lukewarm, but that was better than nothing.

The shower started out lukewarm, then turned cold, but I didnt care; feeling clean again was an intense relief. I could have hope again. Hope that if I had to die, at least I would do it with shiny, bouncy hair.

Something flashed across the glow from the flashlight. I gasped, got soap in my eyes, and rinsed as fast as I could. Its a moth, I told myself. A moth flying around in front of the light. Youd have heard somebody come in.

I listened. The falling water drowned out any sound of an intruder.

Its a moth, I breathed, willing myself to believe it. Okay, I was in a creepy deserted motel with no lights. Okay, I was in a horror movie cliché, naked in a shower in a creepy deserted motel with no lights.

But dammit, I wasnt going to be some horror movie damsel who got killed naked in a shower in a creepy deserted motel. With no lights.

I shut off the water with a firm twist of the knobs, grabbed the thin shower curtain, and rattled it back. Water trickled ice-cold down my back from my wet hair and brought up chill bumps all over my skin.

Nobody there.

I grabbed a towel, dried off, and wrapped it spa- style around my body, then used the second one to do the turban thing. This wasnt the kind of place that provided free plush robes, or even paper-thin ones. I stood on the cold tile, picked up the flashlight, and angled it around in every corner of the small room.

Nothing.

Moth, I said, triumphantly, and propped up the light to help me see what I was doing as I scrubbed my clothes with bath soap. I refilled the sink several times, finished by wringing it all out, and hanging it up on the side of the tub and the shower rod.

Then I walked out into the main room, which was flooded with light from the opened curtains, and saw the Djinn sitting on my bed waiting for me.

And not just any Djinn.

Rahel.

Rahel was back to her old selfbeautiful, sharp-edged, dressed in a neon yellow tailored pantsuit with a plunging neckline white shirt. Cornrowed hair, with amber and gold beads woven throughout. Her long pointed fingernails matched her outfit, and her eyes were a pure, luminous white.

I stopped in the doorway and braced myself with one hand. Rahel didnt move. She didnt speak. She didnt seem to even know I was there.

I licked my lips and said, Rahel?

For a moment, nothing happened, and then her head tilted, very slowly, to one side. Beads clicked together with a dry-bones rattle like the warning of a rattlesnake in slow motion.

I stood there waiting for it, but she didnt move again. I took a tentative step forward, then another one. No reaction. I made it to the rickety side chair that came with the office table and its cheap lamp, and sat down because I wasnt sure if my legs would hold me for too long. She didnt feel like Rahel. She looked the part, but Rahel would already have fired off some snarky, lazy insult or threat, clicked her fingernails, tried to kill me, laughed . . . something.

What was wearing Rahel right now was very far from the Djinn I knew.