ead. He'll have to help me, she thought, he has information I
want.

She felt for the pattern of his body. She experienced it. Concentrating
with the full force of the human brain, she began to mend the breaks and
ruptures and wounds.

It took time.

Don't reheal his mutant bridge, she thought. Leave him defanged.

His jaw returned to its socket. The dried blood on his skin no longer
led from vicious gashes: they had closed and were knitting.

She was finished. He was still unconscious.

Even as she turned to heal the farmer, a section of her brain drew
conclusions from the fact she could be relieved of her powers. Some
outside force was responsible for holding the bridge closed in her mind.
It could be turned on and off.

But why, when the force controlling her bridge had vanished, had Walt's
bridge remained intact? She reviewed all the information she had.

There are two compartments of mutants on the alien ship.

Then each compartment must have its own ... frequency. The aliens
selected Walt, she thought, to kill me because his bridge operated on a
different frequency than mine.

Speechless the farmer had watched her heal Walt; now he relaxed under
the soothing fingers of her thought. He _felt_ the bone in his arm being
made whole again.

He no longer needed to cough.

* * * * *

She tried to create a bridge in his brain; but she could not; it was
outside the pattern. If she were to give him one, it would require
surgery.

She was once again in the seat beside him.

"You're a, you're an _angel_," he said. Awe made his voice hollow. "I'll
be God damned if you're not an honest to Jesus, real live angel."

"I'm human."

"... you couldn't be."

"Well, I am."

He frowned, "... lady, after what I just seen you do, I'll believe it if
you say so. You just tell me, I'll believe it."

"I've got to get into San Francisco. I'll have to leave you. You can
catch a ride or something."

He scrambled out of the car.

Impulsively Julia reached in her handbag for a bill. She found one.
"Here," she said, thrusting it on him, "this is for your milk."

The farmer took it automatically. He put it in his wallet and put the
wallet back in his overalls without bothering to watch what he was
doing. He was watching her.

If they're all as easy to convert as he is ... she thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What?" she said.

"If you're human, what am I?"

"We're not _quite