There was a noise halfway between a scream and a laugh. It was Jill, and she was jumping up and down.

Out loud she said, "I haven't heard that group since I was a kid!" The music was still blaring in the back- ground, even though reduced to a volume that didn't turn the brain to cottage cheese.

On paper, Jill wrote: I did that!!!!! Mightve done your's!

Too young, challenged Renfrew, erasing her apos- trophe.

Judge/book/cover, argued Felix, added a circle slash around the triplet, the international no-no symbol.

We pa.s.sed all the notes around to everyone; but each person got them in more or less random order. It took me a while to make sense out of the jumble.

When everyone had seen a note, Felix or Renfrew touched it to a Bunsen burner. The notes were written on flash paper, and they vanished instantly with a smokeless flare.

According to Dr. Felix, the DEA, under alien control, was still staffed by traitorous humans, even now. They went hunting for people who could pro- duce the "zombie-brew" chemical treatment used to rework humans into zombies.

They specifically hunted for the more sophisticated drug-lab chemists. It made sense that Captain Ren- frew and Felix, both infiltrating from opposite ends, would come together.

When Felix's hand needed a rest, the captain jotted down: lab I headed one of few not overrun. He escaped with all his notes and some of his equipment, grew his hair long, and returned to alien territory to infiltrate.

Felix was already undercover, already infiltrating the alien operation, and that's where it got tricky: DEA knew Felix was really an agent; but they thought he was spying on the aliens for DEA-who were cooperating with the aliens in exchange for the prom- ise of all drugs off the street.

In fact, Xavier Felix was a double-double agent, really working for the Resistance . . . unless he was a triple-double agent, or a double-double-double agent,in which case we were all sunk.

Don't aliens investgt horrible noise? I wrote.

They allowed themselves to laugh out loud. At any point in the music discussion, a laugh fit like a corpse in potter's field.

Evidently, excessive noise was not a problem aliens cared much about.

Something was torquing me off. After wrestling with myself, I finally wrote it. How humans make zombie brew, help aliens evin infiltrating?!?!

Renfrew stared, absently correcting something on my note. Don't know what. He looked wounded, in pain. Delib scrwng up recipe. Neurologic poison slow kills drives mad. Makes useless.

The captain bent over me and read along. He flipped his own sheet over and added: we're only hot chems. Others druggies cooks FDA that kind of c.r.a.p.

Everyone else seemed satisfied, so I dropped it. I was the only one, I guess, who spotted the Clue of the Horrible Admission: even if they were s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up the brew so the zombies died or went mad-weren't they still turning humans into zombies in the first place?

How did they live with that?

We showed them more about the cybermummy.

They had the reaction of any scientist with a new toy.

If there were a solution, they were going to bust humps finding it.

They took us into the bas.e.m.e.nt, where the music from upstairs was merely loud, not ear-splitting. I was surprised a house in Riverside had one, especially this piece of c.r.a.p. Then it hit me like a bony's fist: they probably dug it themselves. Whatever the case, we were in the hands of impressive dudes.

"You can talk quietly down here without fear of surveillance," Felix whispered.

"Hooray," said Arlene, but kept her voice low.

"Amen," said Albert.

We left Felix and Renfrew and went downstairs, where we rested a moment. I was so tired I felt like the marrow in my bones had turned to dust; or maybe I was having trouble breathing down there. Without intending to, I dozed off on a thick leather couch.

When I came to, the others were unwrapping the mummy. It was embarra.s.sing to have pa.s.sed out like that.

"You okay, Fly?" Arlene asked over her shoulder.

"Yeah, must have been tireder than I thought," I said. "Sorry about that."

"No problemo," said Arlene, yawning. "I'll take the next nap. You up to joining us?"

I nodded and moved in for a closer look.

The cyberdude was the same as before, still a young black man turned into a computer-age pin cushion.

Earlier, we removed enough bandages to see his face.

We uncovered his head and saw it was completely shaved, the smooth dome covered in little metal k.n.o.bs and dials.

As Albert and Arlene continued unwrapping, Jill took a step back. The man wasn't wearing anythingbut the quickly unwinding bandages. As they started unwrapping below the waist, our fourteen-year-old h.e.l.lion got embarra.s.sed. Oceans of gore she could take without batting an eyelash, but a nude young man was enough to make her blush.

I was deeply amused and grateful I woke up in time for the entertainment-Jill's reaction, I mean, not the guy. The more nonchalant she tried to be, the more fun I had watching. She actually turned fire-engine red, her normally pale cheeks matching her hair.

I noticed Arlene noticing me noticing Jill. Ah, women!

"It's nothing to get worked up about," she told Jill.

"Maybe Jill should leave the room," suggested Albert.

"That's her decision," said Arlene.

"I don't want to go back upstairs with the . . .

chems," she said. "At least we can talk down here."

"Don't let them tease you, hon," Arlene said.

"Most everything you're told about s.e.x when you're growing up is a lie anyway."

"You mean what they're told in school?" Albert asked slyly.

"I was thinking of the lies they hear at home," said Arlene, instantly regretting the reference. We didn't want Jill constantly fixating on the slaughter of Mom and Dad.

But the more serious tone affected Jill positively.

She went back to the table and helped finish the unwrapping. She didn't look south more than about five or six times. Seven, tops. Being a professional, I was trained to notice details like eye movements.

"What time is it?" Arlene asked, yawning again.

She definitely deserved some sack time.

"Ask Fly," said Jill, "he's got the cl-cl-clock."

"Why didn't they have our conference down here, where we could talk, instead of using the pads?" asked Arlene, I shrugged. "Aliens might think it was weird if 'customers' come over and the cooks disappear down into the bas.e.m.e.nt with them."

"Won't they think it just as strange if the customers disappear alone?"

"Well, let's hope not."

I turned to Jill. "Earlier, you said you might be able to communicate with him on a computer, through one of those jacks. What's the next step?"

She went back to examining the body with the proper detachment. "Can you do it?" I asked.

"Yes and no."

"Care to explain?"

"Yes I can connect, if you get me the cables I need.

One has to have a male Free-L-19, the other a male Free-L-20, both with a two-fiber ma.s.s-serial connec- tor at the other end."

I sure hoped somebody else knew what the h.e.l.l that meant. "Where do you think we can get all that?"

"Try upstairs; if they don't have any, try Radio Shack or CompUSA."

After writing down the kind of jacks required, Itook the list upstairs and showed it to the chem guys.

They didn't have what we needed, but the captain produced an Auto Club map and pointed out the nearest Radio Shack.

Kind of rea.s.suring that L.A. still had its priorities.

Back in the bas.e.m.e.nt, I asked who wanted to go.

And the result was predictable: "I'll go," said Jill.

"Anyone but Jill," I said. "Maybe I should-"

"Why can't I go?"

"I know there's not much to do in Riverside except shop," I admitted, "even before the demons came.

But we've been through this already, Jill. We're still in the you're-not-expendable period."

"I'll go," said Albert.

"Fine," I said. "Now Arlene can get some sack-"

"I'll go with him, Fly," said Arlene.

"But you were yawning only a moment before!"

"I'm not tired now," she said, real perky.

I did what anyone in my position would do. I shrugged. If Arlene had surrender papers for me, I would have signed them on the spot.

29.

Lately, I thought I was overdoing quotations from the Book. I'd never had so vivid a recollection for the Word until the world changed. I'd found time to read the scriptures once more in the new era, and now the words stayed with me, perhaps because the altered world made the tales of the Book seem more vivid.

The original Mormons were condemned not only for taking multiple wives, a behavior that might have been cause for sympathy instead of resentment. What upset other Americans of the nineteenth century was the claim that G.o.d would reveal a whole new history to newly chosen saints. The concept of Latter Day Saints was more offensive to the Christian majority of that time than any personal behavior or economic consequences.

My favorite Bible pa.s.sage was John 21:25, the end of the Gospel According to Saint John, and it should have been the perfect shield against such prejudice; but most Christians pay little attention to the Word: And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written.

Amen.

They liked those words just fine in theory; practice was something else again. The portions where the Book of Mormon disagrees with established Christian practices didn't help either. People got really upset when they were told they were not merely wrong, but diabolically wrong, on the subject of baptism.

h.e.l.l. Arlene and I were about to go back into h.e.l.l.

We were trying to save living babies from burning in the h.e.l.l on Earth. She was a good friend and comrade.

I liked her a lot and hoped I would not witness her death. But since becoming bold about her sinful interest in me, she was making me uncomfortable. I would find her a lot easier to deal with if I weren'ttempted by her.

Or if she would consent to. . . Jesus! Give me strength! Am I really ready to contemplate holy union?

I grimaced; it was a very big step, a life commitment, and I was too chicken to think about it yet. I didn't feel much older than Jill!

My soul was troubled because I did desire Arlene. A verse from Nephi kept running through my mind, like a public service announcement: O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh; for I know that cursed is he that putteth his faith in the arm of flesh. Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.

"A buck for your thoughts," Arlene said, standing very close to me. We were taking our first rest stop in an alley. Lately, I was coming to feel safer in alleys than in open s.p.a.ces.

"I was remembering a pa.s.sage from the Book."

"You want to share it with me?" she asked. I looked deep into her bloodshot eyes, the prettiest sight in the world, and there was no mockery or sarcasm. I wasn't about to tell her how hard I was trying to resist temptation and that right now I spelled sin beginning with a scarlet letter A.

But there was an earlier pa.s.sage from the Second Book of Nephi that spoke directly to any warrior's heart. I quoted it instead: "O Lord, wilt thou make way for mine escape before mine enemies! Wilt thou make my path straight before me! Wilt thou not place a stum- bling block in my way-but that thou wouldst clear my way before me, a hedge not up my way, but the ways of mine enemy."

"Good plan," said Arlene.

"G.o.d's plan."