ger for the air that he just
couldn't drag into his lungs. He let out a small, sharp cry, and
doubled over with pain. They found him seconds later, still clinging
to the phone, his breath so faint as to be no breath at all.

* * * * *

He regained consciousness hours later. He stared about him at the
straight lines of the ceiling, at the hospital bed and the hospital
window. Dimly he saw Carl Golden, head dropping on his chest, dozing
at the side of the bed.

There was a hissing sound, and he raised a hand, felt the tiny oxygen
mask over his mouth and nose. But even with that help, every breath
was an agony of pain and weariness.

He was so very tired. But slowly, through the fog, he remembered. Cold
sweat broke out on his forehead, drenched his body. _He was alive._
Yet he remembered crystal clear the thought that had exploded in his
mind in the instant the blow had come. _I'm dying. This is the
end--it's too late now._ And then, cruelly, _why did I wait so long?_

He struggled against the mask, sat bolt upright in bed. "I'm going to
die," he whispered, then caught his breath. Carl sat up, smiled at
him.

"Lie back, Dan. Get some rest."

Had he heard? Had Carl heard the fear he had whispered? Perhaps not.
He lay back, panting, as Carl watched. Do you know what I'm thinking,
Carl? I'm thinking how much I want to live. People don't _need_ to
die--wasn't that what Dr. Moss had said? It's such a terrible waste,
he had said.

Too late, now. Dan's hands trembled. He remembered the Senators in the
oval hall, hearing him speak his brave words; he remembered Rinehart's
face, and Tyndall's, and Libby's. He was committed now. Yesterday, no.
Now, yes.

Paul had been right, and Dan had proved it.

His eyes moved across to the bedside table. A telephone. He was still
alive, Moss had said that sometimes it was possible _even when you
were dying_. That was what they did with your father, wasn't it, Carl?
Brave Peter Golden, who had fought Rinehart so hard, who had begged
and pleaded for universal rejuvenation, waited and watched and finally
caught Rinehart red-handed, to prove that he was corrupting the law
and expose him. Simple, honest Peter Golden, applying so naively for
his rightful place on the list, when his cancer was diagnosed. Peter
Golden had been all but dead when he had finally whispered defeat, and
given Rinehart his perpetual silence in return for life. They had
snatched him