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s。〃
As the door slammed shut behind them。
The woman's name was Pat Holtzaple。 She was thirty…two years old。 Her due date was the same as her birthday： November 25th。 The day after tomorrow。
The first contraction had hit not more than three minutes into the Eagles game。 Tim had invited a bunch of the guys over。 Lucky； lucky。 Instant baby…sitters； for the price of a case of Old Milwaukee and a couple of pepperoni pizzas。 As with her last four deliveries； the contractions came on sudden and straight to the point。 They were of to the hospital at once。
It was warm outside； and Pat needed the air； so she cracked her window and moaned into the slipstream。 Tim was doing sixty in a residential zone。
They were on Rathton Road； less than an eighth of a mile from Labor Hall； when the wasp blew in the window crack and stung her in the shoulder。
Admissions had been insane。 A lot of people were there with bizarro plaints： their bushes attacked them； or their three…headed cat。 Pat's condition； on the other hand； was clear。 Even though she was utterly； uncharacteristically spaced； that could have been explained any number of ways。
And she swore up and down she wasn't allergic to wasps。
Anaphylactic shock didn't strike until they were in the elevator。 Her skin went red and itchy and hot in the space of a single contraction。 By the time the doors opened on Four； she was violently coughing； her heart rate going triple…time。
By the time they hit Maternity； she was barely breathing at all。
The RN's went into Code Blue at once： calling her doctor while they jammed tubes up her nose and injected her with atropine。 No go。 Her final contraction had far less to do with birth than death。
Tim had to leave the room when they cut her open to rescue the baby。 He didn't miss much。 Just a little more heartbreak。
The baby was also blue。
〃Goddamm it！〃 Micki spat； slamming the receiver down。 For the eighty…seventh time； the 'PAL line was busy。 The little she knew about Pat Holtzaple was enough to make her nerves tripwire。
Relax； Bob…Ramtha said。
〃Yeah； right；〃 she hissed。 〃Relax； my ass。〃
The situation is not yours to control。
〃And that's supposed to make me feel better？ Christ； Bobba 。。。 ！〃
Wait； he said； and turned her around。 Melissa motioned her hither； from Gwen's doorway。 The nurse's face was calculatedly neutral。
The clock said ten after two。
Twenty…Nine
The Mt。 Rose Amoco Shop 'N' Go got its first real whiff of hell at eleven after two。
It came in the form of a tan Arrow van； with a bumper sticker that read CAUTION： IN CASE OF RAPTURE； THIS VEHICLE WILL VACATE WITHOUT WARNING。 Jennie Quirez wouldn't even have noticed it pulling into the lot； were it not for the way it wavered on its way to the gas island： wobbly as a newborn colt； unsteady on its balding whitewall tires。
Drunk driver was her first guess； though the bumper sticker would have seemed to belie that charge。 （Like you couldn't be a drunk who believed in the Rapture。 Like； for example； her papa had been。） Her second guess was senior citizen。 Neither one was on the mark。
Sunday afternoons at the Shop 'N' Go were notoriously slow； low…key affairs； but today was a notable exception。 A near…continuous dribble of customers had graced her presence all day long； and she'd had to face the fact that； barring a surprise visit from Mr。 Truck； they'd be out of the eighty…seven octane within the hour。
In fact； she was just writing up the little OUT OF SERVICE signs when the van pulled up at the number two pump； lurched abruptly to a halt。 Its cargo area was packed to overflowing； as if it had been packed for an extremely long vacation。 If so； it was certainly off to a wonderful start。
From her seat at the register； Jennie had an unobstructed view of the screaming family within： three little towheads； crying in the back； pretty young Mom in the shotgun seat； clutching a baby…sized bundle to her breast and crying； too。
Last； of course； was dear old Dad： huge； stoop…shouldered and hollering from his place behind the wheel。 The sight pushed all of her damaged； dysfunctional family buttons at once。 The contents of his dissertation were hidden； but the dynamics were unmistakable。 What an asshole； she thought； her contempt instantaneous。
Then he threw open the door； staggered rapidly for the pump。
And her first impression radically changed。
Jesus God。 Suddenly alarmed。 What happened to you？ Even from fifteen yards away； the unhealthy sheen of his overwhite plexion was impossible to miss。 He moved painfully； like he might keel over at any second； from the hurried； hitching gait of his bearlike body to the unnatural pallor of his face； everything about him looked terribly wrong。
He wasn't even dressed like a man on vacation。 He was dressed like a guy who'd been puttering around the house： dirty jeans； an oil…stained work shirt。 His pants were soggy and stained； as if he'd fallen into something vile。
Jennie thought instantly of calling 911； mentally calculated how long it might take an ambulance to get here。 If he was having a heart attack or something； she didn't know what she'd do。 Her repertoire of therapeutic moves was ridiculously small。 The Heimlich maneuver。 A really great back rub。
At the same time； she told herself； he's still walking around。 It might be just a little bit premature to call。
Which； of course； forced her to respond to herself with a reminder of how badly he'd been driving。 Which； of course； set her off on a prehensive point/counterpoint volley inside her head。 By the time she got done weighing the options； he had his gas cap off and was ready to go。
She decided to give it a minute； keep a watchful eye on him； hope for the best； and prepare herself； should the worst transpire。 As it so often did。
The thought made her glance nervously at the clock。
And； for some strange reason； worry about her man。
Because Austin seemed to picture her as some kind of unflappable love…angel…the patron saint of inexhaustible good cheer…but it simply wasn't true。 If it seemed that way； it was just because he made her feel so goddam good every time he was around。
The fact was； she worried a lot。 She worried about almost everything； and blamed herself constantly： Daddy's little caretaker； still fretting over the details and putting things to rights。 From middle age to the Middle East； true love to 2 Live Crew； the possibility of an afterlife to the possibility of after…dinner drinks at Austin's place； if it could be turned into a topic of concern； she had a fissure in her brain already reserved for the occasion。
And that was just your basic generic concern。 That was when nothing was going on。 That was before the guy she was falling in love with got dragged of on some secret mission that； by its very nature； could only be concerned with the disposal of extremely hazardous materials 。。。
。。。 that was before people started dropping dead in the middle of her shift 。。。
The number two light on her console was blinking； he'd flicked the switch one too many times； gone from off to on and back again。 It was a mon enough mistake； for agitated people in particular。
〃Yikes；〃 Jennie said： a Deitz…ism she'd absorbed through osmosis。 She pressed the button； reset the pump。 Now all he had to do was turn it on again。
The white…faced man had the nozzle in the tank。 He leaned into the van at an awkward angle； as if it were too stressful or painful to stand up straight。 For the first time； she noticed that his right hand was wrapped in a large； white； oily…looking bandage。
He clenched his teeth； squeezed the nozzle handle with his left。 When nothing happened； he let out what looked like a wordless yowl of pain； then leaned forward and flicked the switch again。
Click clack。 On。 Off。
〃Shit；〃 she hissed。 Outside； he more violently echoed the sentiment。 She tried to reset； but he had lapsed into dumb…panic mode： if it didn't work by just flicking it once； doing it eight times really hard was bound to do the trick。
〃Okay。〃 Fighting off the minor wave of irritation。 He needed coaching； there was an inter for that very purpose。 She got off her butt and went to it at once。
〃Sir？〃 Speaking into the booming mic。 He jumped； gaze flying from the pole…mounted inter speaker to the window she stood behind。 For the first time； their eyes made contact。 At this distance； his eyes just looked vacant and huge。
〃Hang on a second。〃 She pressed reset once again； stopped the little light from blinking。 〃okay。 Now try it。〃
Click clack。 On。 Off。
〃arrr 。。。 no。 don't do that；〃 she scolded。 He responded with an expression of misery so intense that she literally felt it； trickling cold down her spine。 Oh； God； don't die； she silently prayed； instantly overwhelmed by her guilt。
〃Just don't touch it； okay？〃 she continued； shifting gears。 Incredibly sweet now； her voice。 And utterly reassuring。 〃I'll be right out to fix it； okay？〃 Then she pushed the button one final time； headed quickly around the counter。
A banged…up black Jeep Cherokee wheeled onto the lot as Jennie reached the door。 She