"You think very highly of him, don't you." It was as noncommittal a statement as I could think of.

She turned to face me. She took a drag on her smoke. She said, "Listen, when Jason found me, I was one of the walking wounded. You know about the herds, don't you?"

I nodded. "I've seen the one in San Francisco."

"Yeah. But that one's artificial. They gather all the walking wounded into one place, because they think that's the easiest way to handle them-two thousand at a time. I was in,one of the real herds," she said candidly, "down in Los Angeles. There were only thirty or fifty of us-that's the best size. We were a loose pack, just wandering around like a dazed bunch of zombies. I don't remember much about it. I remember being hungry and I remember feeding on whatever there was to feed upon. And then, there was Jason-and he wouldn't let me be a zombie any more. He brought me back to life. I'm alive now. I'm part of the future." She patted her belly proudly. "I have a job to do."

"Congratulations," I said dryly. I took a last puff on my cigarette and flicked it sideways across the compound. A shiny black millipede darted across the dirt, grabbed the butt, and ate it, glowing ember and all. One of the worms slid over, grabbed the millipede and popped it into its mouth.

Jessie stubbed her cigarette out on the bare table top. "Let me tell you something-" She was suddenly deadly serious. "We represent a new order, a new way of operating in the universe. We live in a totally different domain of human experience than you. We want to bring you up to that level-and we will too, eventually. But right now, you still think you have an allegiance to the robber barons, and you'll kill for that supposed allegiance. Therefore, you represent a danger to us. We need to neutralize that danger. We don't want to kill you. But we will, if it's necessary."

"Yes, of course," I said flippantly. "It's part of your survival programming, right?"

She looked surprised. "As a matter of fact, yes." And then she added intensely, "But the difference between us and you is that we're in control of our programming. That's Jason's gift. Real freedom. We're not trapped inside the false allegiances and inaccurate connections that you think are your life. You want to live, Jim? We'll teach you to live-and more than that: we'll give you a freedom that you've never experienced before! But the joke is this: everything that's going to happen to you-especially everything we do to destroy your inaccurate allegiances and false connections-is going to look like a threat to your survival. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

I looked at her. "You're not just a chatty little mad lady, are you? You're the political indoctrination officer. Right?"

She didn't blink. "I asked you a question," she said. "Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes. I do understand." I could feel my hostility rising again. "Maybe more than you think."

"Bullshit," she said. "You don't understand anything. You're still part of the unawakened."

"Unawakened?"

"You're a zombie too," she said. "You're walking around in your own kind of trance. You think you're alive? You don't know what living is. Yet."

I looked away from her. I looked at the sky, the trees, the distant buildings. Anything but her. She waited patiently. Finally, I met her gaze again. "May I have a drink of water?"

She handed me her canteen. The water was warm. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"No," I said. "Did you expect me to be?"

"Are you scared?"

I took another drink. I looked at the ground. I shook my head. I wasn't answering her question, though she must have thought I was. No, I was thinking: Oh, Mamma McCarthy, what has your baby boy gotten himself into this time?

Without looking at her, I shoved the canteen back in her direction. She took it from my hand and said, "Don't worry. You'll get over it." And then she got up and walked away.

They had three motorcycles, two canvas-topped army trucks, and a van. And, now, my Jeep.

"Do you want to ride in the van with us?" Jessie asked. "Or in the truck with Orrie?"

I thought about the choice. At least I knew what kind of a danger Orrie represented. "I think I'll ride in the van, thank you." I climbed into the back of the van. The little girl was sitting there, quietly working on a coloring book. She looked up as I climbed in. "Hi," she said. "Are you coming with us?"

"He's our guest, Loolie," said Jessie, climbing in after me. "Sit there," she pointed.

"Oh," said Loolie. "Would you like a sandwich? Would you like something to drink?"

"Uh, no thanks." Suddenly, I was feeling very very bad. I'd been stupid. Loolie was the decoy.

"I made the sandwiches myself," she said.

I gave her a weak smile. "No, thanks."

It wasn't her fault, I told myself. She's too young to realize. How old was she anyway? I couldn't tell. Never mind. That didn't matter. McCain was dead. She must have known. How could she have not known what she was doing? I forced myself to unclench my fists. I wanted to grab her and shake her as hard as I could. Till her eyes bulged and her tongue gagged and her bones broke

Goddammit! I flung myself back against my seat and stared forward, arms folded angrily across my chest. I was going crazy. No. I was already crazy. I was going crazier.

One of the men climbed into the front of the van to drive. The very thin girl with the dark brooding eyes climbed in beside him. She had my gun on her lap. I wondered if she still wanted to kill me. I realized why she looked so familiar.

I had to know. I swallowed my anger. I leaned over to Loolie and whispered, "Is her name Marcie?"

I pointed at the girl. "Uh-huh. "

"I thought so."

"Do you know her?"

"I did once."

Marcie had been in Denver three years ago. She'd lost her dog. Rangle. An unkempt-looking, shaggy, white dog-he'd whined and tried to escape; he screamed when the worm came down on him. She never knew. I never told her. Instead, I slept with her. Did she remember? Was that the source of her anger toward me?

Loolie was flattered by my attention. She asked, "Would you like to see my zoo?"

"You have a zoo?"

"Uh-huh! We got a porkly-pine, and a vampire, and a baby got p-„

"Loolie!" Jessie interrupted sternly. She was just climbing back to join us. "You know the rules about talking to guests."

"Yes, Jessie. I'm sorry." Loolie turned toward me and solemnly put a finger across her lips.

The driver started the van then and the convoy formed up. I turned to look out the window; maybe I could memorize where we were going.

Two of the cyclists took the lead; obviously, they were scouts. The truck with the two bigger worms followed, then the van, then the truck with Orrie and Delandro followed after. Frankenstein's monster followed with my Jeep, loaded with the loot from the camp, and Mr. President riding in the back. The naked-bunnydog thing was peering curiously into the wrong end of my binoculars. The third cyclist brought up the rear.

I looked at Jessie. "Can [ ask you some questions?"

Jessie was rummaging around in the cooler. She pulled out a fresh apple. "You can ask." She crunched into it. "I don't promise to answer."

"How did you-or Jason-tame three worms?"

"We didn't. There's no such thing as a tame worm."