What the hell’s going on? He wondered if he should turn around and go the other way. In spite of all the activity, however, the street looked clear. He could probably drive right on by the commotion without any trouble. His stomach lurched as he saw a cop. The cop was looking at him, waving him ahead. Okay. Slowly, Albert drove toward the parked trucks, the crowd, the brightly lighted apartment house, the cop. He wished he were still in women’s clothes, but the cop only seemed interested in keeping the street clear. For what? This looked like the scene of a fire or accident or crime, but where were the fire trucks, the ambulances? And what were those big trucks for? Those motor homes? Albert had never seen a scene quite like this before. It was strange and vaguely frightening.
