"Like you?"

"I'm different," she said, the fervor slipping from her voice. "I never lost the will to fight. But my circumstances are special."

"How?"

"It's not important. I'm not important. But Father Joe is. Find him, Rabbi Wolpin. Don't put it off. Find him tomorrow and tell him. When he hears what they've done to his church he'll come back and teach them a lesson they'll never forget!"

Zev didn't know about that, but it would be good to see his young friend again. Searching him out would be a mitzvah for St. Anthony's, but might be good for Zev as well. It might offer some shape to his life ... a life that had devolved to mere existence, an endless, mind-numbing round of searching for food and shelter while avoiding the creatures by night and the human slime who did their bidding during the day.

All right," Zev said. "I'll try to find him. I won't promise to bring him back, because such a decision will not be mine to make. But I promise to look for him."

"Tomorrow?"

"First light. And who should I say sent me?"

The woman turned away and shook her head. "No one."

"You won't tell me your name?"

"It's not important."

"But you seem to know him."

"Once, yes." Her voice grew thick. "But he wouldn't recognize me now."

"You can be so sure?"

She nodded. "I've fallen too far away. There's no coming back for me, I'm afraid."

She'd been through something terrible, this one. So had everyone who was still alive, including Zev, but her experience, whatever it was, had made her a little meshugeh. More than a little, maybe.

She started walking away, looking almost silly dragging that little red wagon behind her.

"Wait..."

"Just find him," she said without turning. "And don't mention me."

She stepped into the shadows and was gone from sight, with only the squeaks of the wagon wheels as proof that she hadn't evaporated.