"An electric cart, sir?" the man said, his accent making David guess he was an Aussie. "Of course!"
"They're scarce here, Director, but-" "They must be, because someone absconded with mine!"
"But I was going to say that I would be happy to lend you mine, under the circumstances."
"The circumstances?"
"The resurrection, of course! Tell you the truth, Director Hassid, I'd love to get in line myself."
"Just bring-"
"You think I could do that, sir? I mean if I were in uniform? I know they've turned away civilians not inside the courtyard, and they're none too happy, but as an employee-"
"I don't know! I need a cart and I need it now!"
"Would you drive me to the venue before you go wherever it is you have to g-"
"Yes! Now hurry!"
"Are you thrilled or what, Director?"
"What?"
The man spoke slowly, condescendingly. "A-bout-the-res-ur-rec-tion!"
"Are you in your vehicle?" David demanded.
"Yes, sir."
"That's what I'm thrilled about."
The man was still talking when David hung up on him and called crowd control. "I'm looking for Annie Christopher," he said.
"Sector?"
"Five-three."
"Sector 53 has been cleared, Director. She may have been reassigned or relieved."
"If she were reassigned, you'd have it, no?" "Checking."
The motor-pool chief appeared in his cart, beaming. David boarded, phone still to his ear. "Gonna see god," the man said.
"Yeah," David said. "Just a minute."
"Can you believe it? He's got to be god. Who else can he be? Saw it with my own two eyes, well, on TV anyway. Raised from the dead. I saw him dead, I know that. If I see him in person, there'll be no doubt now, will there? Eh?"
David nodded, sticking a finger in his free ear. "I say no doubt, eh?"
"No doubt!" David shouted. "Now give me a minute!"
"Where we goin', sport?"
David craned his neck to look at the man, incredulous that he was still speaking.
"I say, where we going? Am I dropping you or you dropping me?"
"I'm dropping you! Go where you want and get out!" "Sorry!"
This wasn't how David normally treated people, even ignorant ones. But he had to hear whether Annie had been reassigned, and where. "Nothing," the crowd-control dispatcher on the phone told him.
"Relieved then?" he said, relieved himself.
"Likely. Nothing in our system on her."
David thought of calling Medical Services but scolded himself for overreacting.
Motor-pool man deftly picked his way through the massive, dispersing crowd. At least most were dispersing. They looked shocked. Some were angry. They had waited hours to see the body, and now that Carpathia had arisen, they were not going to be able to see him, all because of where they happened to be in the throng.
"This is as close as I hope to get in this thing then," the man said, skidding to a stop so abruptly that David had to catch himself. "You'll bring it back round then, eh, sir?"
"Of course," David said, trying to gather himself to at least thank the man. As he slid into the driver's seat he said, "Been back to Australia since the reorganizing?"
The man furrowed his brow and pointed at David, as if to reprimand him. "Man of your station ought to be able to tell the difference between an Aussie and a New Zealander."
"My mistake," David said. "Thanks for the wheels."
As he pulled away the man shouted, "'Course we're all proud citizens of the United Pacific States now anyway!"
David tried to avoid eye contact with the many disgruntled mourners turned celebrants who tried to flag him, not for rides but for information. At times he was forced to brake to keep from running someone down, and the request was always the same. In one distinct accent or another, everyone wanted the same thing. "Any way we can still get in to see His Excellency?"
"Can't help you," David said. "Move along, please. Official business."
"Not fair! Wait all night and half the day in the blistering sun, and for what?"
But others danced in the streets, making up songs and chants about Carpathia, their new god. David glanced again at the monstrous monitors where Carpathia was shown briefly touching hands as the last several thousand were herded through. To David's left, guards fought to block hopefuls from sneaking into the courtyard. "Line's closed!" they shouted over and over.
On the screen, pilgrims swooned as they neared the bier, graced by Nicolae in his glory. Many crumbled from merely getting near him, waxing catatonic. Guards held them up to keep them moving, but when His Excellency himself spoke quietly to them and touched them, some passed out, deadweights in the guards' arms.
Over Nicolae's cooing-"Good to see you. Thank you for coming. Bless you. Bless you."-David heard Leon Fortunato. "Worship your king," he said soothingly. "Bow before his majesty. Worship the Lord Nicolae, your god."
Dissonance came from the guards stuck with the responsibility of moving the mass of quivering, jellied humanity, catching them as they collapsed in ecstasy. "Ridiculous!" they grumbled to each other, live mikes sending the cacophony of Fortunato, Carpathia, and the complainers to the ends of the PA system. "Keep moving. Come on now! There you go! Stand up! Move it along!" David finally reached sector 53, which was, as he had been told, deserted. The crowd-control gates had toppled, and the giant number placard had been trampled. David sat there, forearms resting on the cart's steering wheel. He shoved his uniform cap back on his head and felt the sting of the sun's UV rays. His hands looked like lobsters, and he knew he'd pay for his hours in the sun. But he could not find shade again until he found Annie.
As crowds shuffled through and then around what had been her sector, David squinted at the ground, the asphalt shimmering. Besides the ice-cream and candy wrappers and drink cups that lay motionless in the windless heat was what appeared to be residue of medical supplies. He was about to step from the cart for a closer look when an elderly couple climbed aboard and asked to be driven to the airport shuttle area.
"This is not a people mover," he said absently, having enough presence to remove the keys before leaving the vehicle.
"How rude!" the woman said.
"Come on," the man said.
David marched to sector 53 and knelt, the heat sapping his energy. In the shadows of hundreds walking by, he examined the plastic empties of bandages, gauze, ointment, even tubing. Someone had been ministered to here. It didn't have to have been Annie. It could have been anyone. Still, he had to know. He made his way back to the cart, every seat but his now full.
"Unless you need to go to Medical Services," he said, punching the number into his phone, "you're in the wrong cart."
In Chicago Rayford Steele found the Strong Building's ninth floor enough of a bonanza that he was able to push from his mind misgivings about Albie. The truth about his dark, little Middle Eastern friend would be tested soon enough. Albie was to ferry a fighter jet from Palwaukee to Kankakee, where Rayford would later pick him up in a Global Community helicopter.
Besides discovering a room full of the latest desktop and minicomputers-still in their original packaging- Rayford found a small private sleeping room adjacent to a massive executive office. It was outfitted like a luxurious hotel room, and he rushed from floor to floor to find the same next to at least four offices on every level.
"We have more amenities than we ever dreamed," he told the exhausted Tribulation Force. "Until we can blacken the windows, we'll have to get some of the beds into the corridors near the elevators where they can't be seen from the outside."
"I thought no one ever came near here," Chloe said, Kenny sleeping in her lap and Buck dozing with his head on her shoulder.
"Never know what satellite imaging shows," Rayford said. "We could be sleeping soundly while GC Security and Intelligence forces snap our pictures from the stratosphere."