Zeke was awkward and shy, and while he shook hands all around and lightly returned hugs, he stared at the ground and mumbled replies. Soon enough, however, he was exploring, unpacking, moving a bed, setting up his stuff. An hour later he returned to the central meeting place near the elevators. "This place is really uptown," he said.
"Literally," Leah said, clearly bemused by the man who had once changed her entire look and given her a new identity.
Zeke stared at her, and Buck got the impression he didn't know what she meant but was afraid to admit it. As if to cover his embarrassment and change the subject, Zeke dug in both back pockets and one vest pocket for huge rolls of twenty-Nick bills, which he slapped noisily on the table. "I intend to earn my keep," he said. "Put this here in the pot."
"You might want to wait until it's official," Buck said. "Rayford will be here tomorrow night and-"
"Oh, it's all right. Consider it a donation, even if I get voted out or blackballed or whatever."
"I don't see that happening," Chloe said, burping the sleeping Kenny Bruce on her shoulder.
"Oh, man!" Zeke said quietly, noticing the baby. He approached slowly and reached carefully toward Kenny's back. "Can I?"
"You may," Chloe said. "Your hands clean?"
Zeke stopped and turned his hands before his eyes. "They have to be for my kinda work. Can't smudge the new IDs, you know. They look dirty, 'cause I work on engines and stuff, but they're just stained."
He bent at the knees before Chloe and gently put his meaty hand on Kenny's back. His fingers nearly stretched from shoulder to tiny shoulder. Zeke lightly touched the boy's feathery hair.
"Sit and you can hold him," Chloe said, as the others watched. Buck was especially amused by Chaim, whose eyes filled.
"Want a turn?" Buck whispered.
"It's been so long," Chaim whispered, trying to make himself understood. "It would be a privilege."
Somehow Kenny slept through everyone's turn, even Tsion's. He was last and quickly passed Kenny back to Chloe, as he was overcome. "My children were teenagers when they… when they… but the memories…"
"We need to identify a body," Hannah Palemoon said, pushing David's wheelchair and pulling his IV to the desk just inside the morgue.
"Sign in," a bored older woman said.
"Forget it," Hannah said. "The system is behind by several days. Nobody'11 ever check anyway."
The woman made a face. "Less work for me," she said. "I'm just filling in."
David's heart raced as Hannah pushed him past rows and rows of bodies as far as the eye could see-on gurneys, in lateral refrigerators, and sheet-wrapped head to toe, shoulder to shoulder on the floor. "She's not one of these, is she?"
"Next room, around the corner."
Hannah steered him to the foot end of a covered body on a bed. He took a deep, quavery breath. Hannah lifted the sheet from one foot and peered at the toe tag to make sure she had the right corpse. "You're sure you want to do this?"
He nodded, though now not so sure.
She showed him the tag thin-wired to the big toe. It bore Annie's name and rank and serial number all right, plus date of birth and date of death. The foot was swollen and discolored, but no doubt hers. David reached to envelop it with both hands and was struck by the cold stiffness.
It was the other foot whose shoe had showed lightning damage. David began pulling the sheet from it, ignoring Hannah when she cleared her throat and said, "Uh, David…"
He recoiled at the damage. The heel was split wide and the big toe mangled. He covered her feet and dropped his head. "You're sure she never felt that?"
"Positive."
"Fortunato was given the power to call down fire from heaven on those who didn't worship the image."
"I know."
"I could have easily been struck."
"Me too." "Why her?"
Hannah did not answer. David tried to wheel himself between beds to the other end of the body. His IV stretched. "Let me," Hannah said, and she pushed him slowly. When he reached for the sheet, Hannah reached over his shoulder and put a hand on his forearm. "You may want to look only at her face," she said. "There was severe cranial trauma." He hesitated.
"And David? For some reason no one closed her eyes. I tried, but with time and rigor mortis… well, a mortician will have to do that."
He nodded, panting. His head throbbed, and when he was able to control his breathing again, David lifted the sheet and brought it down to her neck, careful not to look. With another deep breath, his eyes traveled to hers. For an instant it didn't look like Annie. Her eyes were fixed on something a million miles away, her face bloated and purple. Burns on her ears and neck evidenced where her necklace and earrings had been. He sat staring at her for so long that Hannah finally said, "OK?"
David shook his head. "I want to stand."
"You shouldn't."
"Help me."
She pushed the IV stand around the chair so it was next to him. "Use that to brace yourself. If the room starts to spin, sit again."
"Starts?"
She locked the wheels and put a hand on his back, guiding as he rose. He pushed with his left hand on the arm of the chair and pulled with his right on the stand. Finally, up and wobbly, Hannah's hand still on his back, David cupped Annie's cheek with his free hand. Despite the cool rigidity, he imagined she could feel his caress. In spite of himself, he leaned over her until he could see past where a tuft of hair had been pushed up in front. Behind that was a silver dollar-sized hole that exposed her brain.
David shook his head and carefully sat again. He didn't want to think what a lightning bolt through her body would have done to vital organs. He now believed Hannah that Annie never would have known what hit her.
Hannah pulled David's chair and left him at the foot of the bed. He sat with his head in his hands, unable to produce more tears. He heard Hannah rearranging the sheet and carefully re-covering Annie, almost as if she were still alive, and it struck him as sweet and thoughtful.
As she wheeled him out, he whispered his thanks.
"I wish I had known her," Hannah said.
Rayford had briefed Buck and Chloe and Tsion the night before, so when a phone woke him at dawn in Montana, he assumed it was one of them. As he reached to answer, however, it was not his cell but the room phone. He had not given out that number, so who would be calling? The desk? Was someone onto them? Should he identify himself as Rayford Steele or Marvin Berry? Neither, he decided. "Hello?" "Ray," Hattie said, "it's me. I'm awake, I'm up, I'm starved, and I want to get going. You?"
He groaned and glanced at the other bed. Albie was sound asleep. "You're a little too chipper for me," he said. "I'm asleep, I'm in bed, I'm not hungry, and there's no sense leaving so early that we get to Kankakee before dark. "We can't go to the safe house until after that anyway."
"Oh, Rayford! C'mon! I'm bored. And I'm dead, remember? I need a new identity, but I'm as free as I've been in years, thanks to you! How 'bout some breakfast?" "We can't be too obvious or public." "Are you going to go back to sleep, really?" "Back? I never woke up."
"Seriously."
"No, I probably won't. Someone in the next room is up banging around anyway."
She knocked on the wall. "And I'll keep banging until I get company for breakfast."
"All right, dead girl. Give me twenty minutes."
"I'll be outside your door in fifteen."
"Then you'll be waiting five."
Rayford was glad his showering and dressing hadn't wakened Albie. He peeked out the window and saw nothing and no one. Out the peephole in the door he saw Hattie stretching in the sun, just beyond the shadow caused by the second-floor walkway. He peeked through the curtain. The place was otherwise deserted.