David opened his eyes, then closed them. Mel was lifting him up. “Come on,” Mel said, “over you go. God.” Mel groaned. “Leave him, son, put him back down there.” Marion’s voice. “I want a look.” Soft, cool hands. “There’s a radio in my car,” Mel said. “But I’m not leaving them down here while—” “You ain’t got a car, by now. And even if you call, last ambulance come down here got stripped in fifteen minutes, driver beaten to death.” “They got to meet us,” Mel said. “Violation of the Critical Personnel Act of 2036, we’re talking big fines and prison terms. And cops are right at the top of the list.” “They won’t come, son. And it’s your friend, the Hun, here, I be worried about. Can you pass him off—teacher, doctor, social worker—” “Liquor store owner,” someone said. “Just don’t say lawyer,” came another voice. “Then he couldn’t get buried.” There was a ripple of laughter. “His name is Haas,” Mel said. “Can we move him?”
