John stared at him as if measuring his increasing agitation and trying to figure out what the hell to do.

Abruptly the guy reached down to Z’s broken leg and gave his turned-around shitkicker a quick tug.

Z shot upright and barked, “Motherfucker!”

But it was good. The pain acted like a great broom sweep of his brain, clearing out the web of delusions and replacing them with a focused, pounding clarity. He was very much alive. He really was.

Right on the heels of that realization he thought of Bella. And Nalla.

He had to reach them.

Z shifted to the side to get his phone, but his vision went furry from what was doing with his leg. “Shit. Can you get me my cell? In my back pocket?”

John carefully rolled him over, took out the RAZR, and handed it to him.

“So you don’t think there’s any working this out?” Rehv said.

Bella shook her head in answer to her brother’s question, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “No, I don’t think so. At least not in the short term.”

“Shit. Well, I’m always here for you, you know that. You want to stay with mahmen?”

“No. I mean, I’m happy to have her come visit during the night, but I need my own space.”

“Because you’re hoping he comes after you.”

“He’s not going to. This time is different. Nalla…has made everything different.”

The young snuffled and burrowed in closer to her favorite nook between upper arm and breast. Bella propped the cell phone against her shoulder and stroked the downy-soft hair that was growing in. The waves, when they grew out, were going to be multicolored, with blondes and reds and browns mixed together, just as her father’s would be if he didn’t trim it so tightly.

As Rehv laughed awkwardly, she said, “What?”