nly not out
loud. I knew that they had changed and that they were still changing. It
was complicated.

After a while it occurred to me and Alice to worry whether we mightn't
catch this woman's sickness. It would serve us right, of course, but
plague is plague. But Pop reassured us. "Actually I snagged three
cubes," he said. "That should take care of you two. I figure I'm
immune."

Time wore on. Pop dragged out the harmonica, as I'd been afraid he
would, but his playing wasn't too bad. "Tenting Tonight," "When Johnnie
Comes Marching Home," and such. We had a meal.

The Pilot's woman woke up again, in her full mind this time or something
like it. We were clustered around the bed, smiling a little I suppose
and looking inquiring. Being even assistant nurses makes you all
concerned about the patient's health and state of mind.

Pop helped her sit up a little. She looked around. She saw me and Alice.
Recognition came into her eyes. She drew away from us with a look of
loathing. She didn't say a word, but the look stayed.

Pop drew me aside and whispered, "I think it would be a nice gesture if
you and Alice took a blanket and went up and sewed him into it. I
noticed a big needle and some thread in her satchel." He looked me in
the eye and added, "You can't expect this woman to feel any other way
toward you, you know. Now or ever."

He was right of course. I gave Alice the high sign and we got out.

No point in dwelling on the next scene. Alice and me sewed up in a
blanket a big guy who'd been dead a day and worked over by vultures.
That's all.

About the time we'd finished, Pop came up.

"She chased me out," he explained. "She's getting dressed. When I told
her about the plane, she said she was going back to Los Alamos. She's
not fit to travel, of course, but she's giving herself injections. It's
none of our business. Incidentally, she wants to take the body back with
her. I told her how we'd dropped the serum and how you and Alice had
helped and she listened."

The Pilot's woman wasn't long after Pop. She must have had trouble
getting up the shaft, she had a little trouble even walking straight,
but she held her head high. She was wearing a dull silver tunic and
sandals and cloak. As she passed me and Alice I could see the look of
loathing come back into her eyes, and her chin went a little higher. I
thought, why shouldn't she want us dead? Right now she probably wants to
be dead herself.

Pop nodded to us and