"I see what you mean. So the question now is where do we go from here? We can't just sit around and wait for another one of these zombies to make a move."

"No, we can't do that," Hovde agreed. "And I have a suggestion. That's why I asked both of you to come here tonight."

When he fell silent for a moment, Joana said, "What is it, Warren?"

Hovde grinned crookedly. "like Glen, I find it difficult to say this aloud. What it amounts to, there's someone I want you to meet. She's a nurse at the West Los Angeles Hospital."

"A nurse?" Glen said. "What good can a nurse do us?"

"Let him finish, Glen," Joana said quietly.

"She's an intelligent girl, and a truly dedicated nurse," Hovde continued, "but it's not in that capacity that she can help us."

"What, then?" Glen said impatiently.

"She has, well, I guess you could call it an occult connection."

"What is she, a witch?"

"It's not the girl herself, it's her grandmother. I've heard her talk about the old lady and some of the strange powers she has." He gave a little snort of laughter. "I always thought it was foolishness. But that was before."

Joana grew thoughtful, and the doctor looked at her questioningly.

"What is it?"

"Talking about the occult reminded me, Peter Landau never did show up Sunday night. On the telephone he sounded really excited. Said he had learned something important. Then, with everything that happened that night, I forgot all about him until just now. I wonder why I haven't heard from him."

"Never mind him," Glen said, "he probably found another party to go to. There's no way he could help us with his astrological parlor tricks."

"All the same, I wonder about him."

"So what about this old lady, Warren?" Glen said. "The one with the power?"

"I don't know any more than I've already told you," Hovde said. "If you'll agree, we can drive out and I'll introduce you to the nurse. Maybe she can put you in touch with her grandmother."

"It's worth a try," Joana said.

"What have we got to lose?" Glen added.

Joana frowned and Glen looked at her. "Is something wrong?"

"You just reminded me of something Peter said. I know he was kidding around at first, but I think he really wanted to help."

"I know," Glen said more gently. "If we haven't heard anything in the next couple of days, we'll look him up."

Joana smiled at him. Then to Dr. Hovde she said, "You say we can meet this nurse tonight?"

Hovde consulted his watch. "She'll be on her break at the hospital in twenty minutes. That would be the best time to talk to her."

"We can take my car," Glen said. "I'll go get the keys."

Glen went out, and they heard him jog off around the building toward his own apartment. Joana leaned forward on the sofa and searched the doctor with her eyes.

"Warren, will you tell me something honestly?"

"If I can."

"Did I really drown in that pool last week? Did I die?"

"What do you mean, Joana?"

"I mean, what if I really don't belong here? What if coming back was a mistake? If they, the walkers, have a real claim on me, maybe I'm just hurting other people by trying to stay where I shouldn't be. You, Glen, Peter, all of you are mixed up in something that could be deadly dangerous because of me."

"I don't know how to answer you, Joana. As for involving the rest of us, we're all acting of our own free will."

"That night of the party here, you saw mya my body. Just tell me, was I dead?"

Dr. Hovde was silent for a moment, then he said, "When I saw you, after they had pulled you out of the pool and Glen was working over you, my first thought was that you were gone."

Joana winced.

"But there are many, many doc.u.mented cases where the vital signs were negative, where the patient was actually given up for dead, and yet revived and lived out a normal lifetime. Another thing I can a.s.sure you of, there is no record anywhere of anybody who was really and truly dead coming back to life. I don't think you have, either. If there was a mistake made, the other side made it, whoever they are. You're alive, Joana, as alive as any of us. You belong here, and we'll fight this out together to see that you stay here."

Impulsively Joana got up and came over to kiss the doctor lightly on the cheek. She said. "Thanks, Warren, for reminding me how dear life is, and how really lucky I am to have such friends."

The door opened and Glen came in jiggling the car keys. "All set."

Joana and the doctor followed him out to the Camaro.

The cafeteria on the second floor of the West Los Angeles Receiving Hospital was roomy, efficient, and impersonal. Baskets of plastic flowers had been placed on the Formica-topped tables in a vain attempt to warm up the room. Doctors, nurses, and night-shift employees drifted in, ordered coffee, a roll, a sandwich, and hurried out. It was not an atmosphere that encouraged people to linger.

At a table off to one side sat Joana, Glen, and Dr. Hovde. They had heavy white mugs of coffee in front of them, which they ignored, keeping their eyes on the entrance.

"Here she comes now," said Hovde.

A girl with clear olive skin and eyes like black coffee came into the cafeteria. She wore a white nylon nurses's uniform that moved with her small, well-proportioned body. She stood inside the doorway for a moment, looking around.

"Over here, Ynez," said Dr. Hovde.

She recognized him and came toward the table. Her smile was warm and honest.

Dr. Hovde rose and made the introductions. "Glen, Joana, this is the lady I was telling you about, Ynez Villanueva. Ynez, these are my friends, Joana Itaitt and Glen Early."

"I'm happy to meet you," said Ynez. Her voice held just a trace of musical Spanish.

"Can I get you something?" Hovde asked. "A cup of coffee?"

The nurse shook her head. "I never drink hospital coffee. Too much of it can dissolve your stomach lining."

They laughed easily and Ynez sat down at the table. She looked expectantly at Hovde.

"I appreciate your coming, Ynez," he said. "I've heard you speak several times of your grandmother. My friends may need her help."

The dark girl looked first at Glen, then Joana. Her gaze lingered for a moment, and a shadow crossed her face. Then she turned to Dr. Hovde.

"I thought you did not believe the stories of my grandmother."

"I'm not sure what I believe in anymore," Hovde said. "One thing is sure, I'm not as quick to deny that things are possible just because they're outside my experience."

" *More things in heaven and earth,' eh, Doctor?" said Ynez with a soft smile.

"Something like that."

The nurse nodded, then looked quickly at Joana. "It is you who are in trouble, is it not?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"In my family, the Villaneuvas, each of us has a touch of the power, some greater, some less. My mother always knew one or two days before it happened when one of us children was going to get sick or hurt ourselves in some way. It tortured her that she could do nothing to prevent it. My brother, when he was younger and would concentrate very hard, could make a ball roll off a table just by willing it so."

"And you, Ynez?" Joana asked.

"I sometimes see things in people's faces. Secrets they do not know are there. But that is all I can do. None of us truly has the power. None but my grandmother."

"Would it be possible to meet her?"

"Are you sure this is what you want? My grandmother will see very few people anymore, and those she does see are often sorry afterwards. They ask her questions, beg for the answers, and when my grandmother tells them what they want to know, they may wish they had never asked. Bruja, some call her. Witch."

"Ynez, I'm desperate," Joana said. "Maybe your grandmother can help me, maybe she can't. I don't know. I have nowhere else to turn."

Ynez studied Joana's face. Her coffee-colored eyes showed deep compa.s.sion. "I will speak to her, Joana, but you must not have your hopes too high. My grandmother has been badly used by people, and she can be very bitter. Now she only sits alone in her room and waits to die. But I will speak to her of you. I will do what I can."

"Thank you," Joana said with feeling.

"Where can I reach you when I have talked to my grandmother?"

Joana borrowed a notebook from Glen and wrote down her home and office telephone numbers. Ynez took the slip of paper, folded it, and put it away.

Joana touched the other girl's hand. "Ynez, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your helping me."

The nurse's dark eyes were grave. "I have done nothing for you yet. My grandmother may refuse to see you. And even if she agrees, you may wish she hadn't."

"I'll take the chance," Joana said.

Ynez looked at her with a sad smile, then nodded as though she'd heard what she expected. "Be careful, Joana," she said. "Be very careful." Then she rose from the table and walked away without looking back.

Chapter 18.

The next day Joana had a difficult time keeping her mind on her work. She made careless mistakes in routine tasks, forgot appointments, and had to keep asking people to repeat what they had just said to her. Just before lunch John Waldo, the manager of her department, ambled over and sat on her desk. He was a tall man with narrow hips and a gunfighter moustache. In the office he wore Western shirts and faded denims. The personnel of the advertising department, being "creative" and therefore a little strange, were given more lat.i.tude in dress than others in the corporate family. A touch of eccentricity was expected here, even encouraged. John Waldo's personal idiosyncrasy was impersonating the Marlboro man.

"How you doin', little gal?" he drawled.

"Okay. Well, not so okay, really. I'm not completely with it today."

"Shucks, I guess I can understand that. When some crazy galoot busts into your house, and then you got to go through a lot of palaver with the police, why, no wonder you're shook up."

"That's no excuse for messing up the job the way I am today."

"Don't worry about it, the back-to-school campaign is roped and branded, and we've got a breather until we have to saddle up for the Thanksgiving sale. Why don't you take the rest of the day off if you want to. Heck, take the rest of the week. You've got sick leave coming."

"Thanks, John, but I really feel a lot better here than I would at home. I need people around me." Live people, she might have added, but did not.

"Whatever you say, gal. If you haven't any plans for chow, how about comin' along with me to Dominick's?"

*Thanks, but I'm going to be eating in today. I'm expecting an important phone call, and I wouldn't want to miss it."

The manager pushed himself off the desk and hitched up his denims. "If there's any little thing I can do for you, Joana, just give a shout and I'll come a-runnin'."

"Thanks, John, I appreciate that."

Joana watched the Wilshire Boulevard cowboy mosey back toward his own office. She knew it was not easy for him or any of the others to know what to say to her. There was an accepted way to treat people who had been ill, or in an accident, or suffered a death in the family. You could go by the book. But what did you say to somebody who had barely escaped an attack by a maniac, watched her boyfriend kill the man, and spent several hours being questioned by the police?

At lunchtime Joana went out to the catering wagon that served her floor and bought a tuna-salad sandwich, an apple, and a half-pint carton of milk. She took them back to her desk and ate while trying to concentrate on a sheaf of compet.i.tors' newspaper ads. She waited nervously for the phone to ring.

Joana knew she was probably staking too much on Ynez Villanueva's grandmother. She was, after all, just an old woman who was said to have undefined psychic powers that Joana would have scoffed at until very recently. But now there seemed to be no other help available to get her out of this nightmare. So she sat tense, waiting for the call from Ynez.

It was three o'clock when the phone on her desk finally rang. Joana jumped as though it had bitten her.

"Joana? This is Ynez Villanueva. Am I interrupting your work?"

"No. I've been waiting for your call."

"I talked to my grandmother a little while ago. She has no telephone, so I had to call the man downstairs to get her. He was not very happy about it."

"What happened?" Joana tried to keep the terrible eagerness out of her voice.

"As I thought, she did not want to see you. I told you she sees n.o.body anymore. But I talked to her and talked to her. I told her, forgive me, that you were an old and dear friend of mine. Finally she agreed to let you come and talk to her, but just the one time, and just for a few minutes."

"That's wonderful, Ynez, I can't thank you enough. Where does she live?"

Ynez gave her an address in Boyle Heights. Joana wrote it on her desk calendar pad and tore off the sheet.

"I'll go there tonight," she said, "right after I get off work."