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make sense.”
    “Then you don’t think it makes sense either.”
    Denny paused. “I think I’m not the boss,” he said, “and neither are you. But since you asked me, I agree with them—I think all available resources should be focused on rescuing the living first. Think about it: If we wait to recover the bodies, then what you said is true: We might lose a lot of forensic evidence—we might even lose the ability to identify some of them. But if we wait to rescue the living, we’ll just have more bodies to deal with later. C’mon, Nick, I know you like bugs more than people, but after all—we’re here to serve the living.”
    “I’m here to serve the living,” Nick said, “but there are different ways to do it. One of them is by taking care of the dead.”
    “And we will—as soon as the rescue operations are finished.”
    “I just don’t see why we can’t do both. Surely they could spare a few of us.”
    Denny paused again, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think the decision was purely logistical. When all this is over, I think the people in charge want to be able to say that they used every possible resource to rescue everyone they could. I think there was an emotional element involved.”
    “That’s a political element, if you ask me.”
    “Call it what you want; that’s the way it is. This is a rescue-and-recovery effort, Nick. Got that? Rescue and recovery—but rescue comes first. As of tomorrow, all willing and able DMORT personnel are to assist in rescue efforts in New Orleans.”
    “I wasn’t trained for search and rescue,” Nick grumbled.
    “C’mon, I’ve seen you recover bodies from every imaginable location—trees, cliffs, power lines, caves. Search and rescue can’t be any harder than that. The only difference is that the body walks away later.”
    “Thanks for the tip.”
    “You don’t have to take part, you know; it’s up to you. I’m sure we could find something for you to do around here instead.”
    Nick glared at him. “You jerk—you know I’ll be there.”
    Denny grinned. “Yeah, I know. You’d rather die than miss the action.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “One more thing,” he said. “We’re a team, okay? We’ve been together a few times now. I really need you to be a team player this time.”
    Nick shrugged. “I’m a team player.”
    “Yeah, but there are different kinds of teams. There are ball teams, where everybody has to work together like a well-oiled machine; then there are cross-country teams, where it’s every man for himself. I need you to play ball this time. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
    “You want me to play on the Region IV softball team.”
    Denny smiled—but only a little. “Just think it over.”
    He turned and left.
    “Hello, Nick.”
    Nick turned to find Dr. Woodbridge standing behind him. Her arms hung down with her hands folded in front of her at the waist, with her two index fingers pressed together at the tips and pointing at the floor. She stood with one foot slightly in front of the other, like a spokesperson about to demonstrate a new product. She was smiling, and the moment Nick made eye contact her eyes locked onto his.
    “Beth,” Nick said.
    “How are you doing, Nick?”
    “Fine. If you’ll excuse me, I was just about to—”
    “You weren’t listening, were you?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “My introductory comments. You weren’t listening.”
    “Sure I was. Bowel movements—got it.”
    “I said if I ask you, ‘How are you doing?’ please don’t brush me off. So—how are you doing?”
    “Oh, right, I remember now. Well, let’s see: After careful consideration, I would say that I’m—fine.”
    She reached into her blazer pocket and removed a folded slip of paper. She opened it and held it up to Nick. On it was written a single word: FINE.
    “That’s amazing,” Nick said. “You’re like that Criss Angel guy. Can you do the levitation? I really like that