Going Down Swinging Part 13

NOVEMBER 197.

VANCOUVER GENERAL, in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Seems like a bas.e.m.e.nt; green walls. Like snake innards. Walking down tinny green-gone-wrong veins of a reptile. Bakers with you. He's OK. Not so bad. You told him, call-me-Eilleen. Drove you down here-he's helping you check in, trying to get you well.

It's echoey, wandering, nurses and patients all look out of their minds. Weaving, everything's breathing and weaving until you get to the counter. Baker talks to the nurse there; her smile looks gluey. He's talking about admittance, this ward and Doctor Graham, referrals, alcoholism, disorientation, blahahaha. Boring. Let smarty-boots take care of all that c.r.a.p. Your job is to dry out like some boozy old grape. You'll get Grace back when you're a raisin again. Kids love raisins.

Let's take a look round this rat trap; have a boo. Let them figure out the details. You poke your beak in a room. Jesus, nothing in there but a mattress. And a basin, bleach-bone white. You saunter in, see how the other half lives.

G.o.d almighty, what poor slobs end up in here? Hold tight to your purse, look up and down the box walls. White, everything white. Just a couple tiny smears, splotches, yellow-brown like baby s.h.i.t. Dents here and there in the door frame; somebody took their boots to it. You get about the middle of the room-Christ knows how that mattress looks under the sheet-turn, swing your head in time to see the white door swing shut. And your heart hiccups, holds still. Oops.

Hey, you say, heyy-ey. Yoo-hoo. Hey, open the door, you've-and no k.n.o.b on the door. There's no G.o.dd.a.m.n doork.n.o.b. Like the quiet room at the old Hollywood Hospital. You didn't do anything. You don't deserve the quiet room. Hey!ey-ey-ey! And you bang a palm twice. You've locked the door here. Open the door. Fist your palm. Hey, open the door! Baker. Baker did this. f.u.c.king Baker-G.o.dd.a.m.n, let-me-help-you Baker. Yeah, he'll give you a ride. What a dear. Dear sweet b.a.s.t.a.r.d Baker. Open the f(ee-iz)ucking door before I bust it down. I mean it! And you're kicking and punching and screaming and n.o.body's coming and n.o.body's talking, can't hear anything. Only takes two signatures. Two doctors could lock you away for good. Stand back, kick the door: n.o.body hears you, make more dents. f.u.c.kf.u.c.kf.u.c.k. Throw something, throw your purse. Slam it. Pick it up and slam it. Slam it again and say Hear Me, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Screaming, mascara and tears gluing your eyes, can taste blood in your mouth-kick the dents again. Kick them all. You can't do this. You can't do this. n.o.body hears. They're going to get you this time. You signed your baby away. You didn't read the fine print. Let me out, you pigs. You p.r.i.c.ks. Can't do this. What did you sign? You signed something for that nurse, didn't you? or was that just for Baker? Where did you sign? What did you say?

You drag your purse back off the floor, hurl it again and the door opens. Beefy boy in white: hospital bouncer-'member them? A nurse stands behind him, tight smile. You'd best quiet down, Mrs. Hoffman, there are other patients on this ward, you know. And he moves in through the doorway, bends down.

Reason with him.

I'm not a patient here, I'm not-I didn't do anything. I'm not nuts. I'm hypoglycemic. And he stands up with your purse in one fisted mitt. You move towards him and stop. He looks like he could twist your arm, snap it off like Barbie's. You reach out your hand. He nods, pa.s.ses your purse to the nurse, backs out. That's-gimme my purse, you-Give Me My Purse! Your voice rakes over the walls as you tackle the smooth door, banging, and trip. Your knees smash the floor. Two signatures, just takes two signatures. Get up, get up, don't stay down. Find something, a weapon. Baker must be there, he just can't hear you. You can't be in the psych ward, you're not a psych. Just a G.o.dd.a.m.n lush, that's all.

Nothing. No k.n.o.bs. Think.

Thinking.

f.u.c.k. Pace. Pace the room. The basin, grab the basin, make someone hear. Get them to the door. Someone will know when they see you, it's a mistake.

Throw it. Harder. Bash the door with the basin. White plastic bomb, banging and flinging itself back on the floor. Pick it up-see what happens, f.u.c.kers! I don't go quietly, rage rage rage against the white. Bash their k.n.o.bless brains in, pick it up. Hollow plastic bangs and bangs and bangs until the door opens.

The bouncer's back, two this time, nurse behind them. He says, You know what, lady, you're gonna hurt yourself is what, and annoy the h.e.l.l out of me in the process, and he yanks the plastic rim out of your clutch.

You wake up to the door opening. Don't know when it is, must have slept. You're on the mattress. Sit up. Look down at your p.r.i.c.kly shins, salmon-coloured cotton from the knees up. Can't remember. When did they take your clothes? Did they put you out? Or did you just pretend to be good? A nurse opens your door all the way. She's smiling that ugly basin smile. Bleach-bone teeth. She's a new one. Would you like to come out now, Mrs. Hoffman? Hard, fake cashier-smile.

Be good now. Be a good girl. Show them how docile you are, well-mannered, and bright, not crazy. Not one bit. You stand and hold your gown shut behind, hide your b.u.m at least, dignified is halfway to sane.

In the hallway, a couple patients walking, heads down, hair stringing, old man's maggot-white legs wander bony down the hall, wrinkly squish hanging out the back of his gown, shaking his head back and forth. A young pretty thing sits in a metal-legged chair a few yards down, hands folded in her lap, eyes straight ahead. Looks like she's in primary school-straightest spine gets a gold star. The nurse goes into her station-wonder if she's the head nurse; must be, she looks stark raving. You sit in the chair outside the quiet room and look well rested and harmless.

What kind of get-up has she got on? She bustles behind the counter and in front: a brown cape, long brown skirt, starched white blouse, dark stockings, clunky sensible shoes. You want to tell her Florence Nightingale called-she wants her stuff back. Keep your yap shut. Just because you didn't know the nineteenth century had come back in such a big way ... Don't forget where you are: the b.o.o.by hatch. Takes one to know one is the rule of thumb, and you are no b.o.o.by. Convince her lest she descend on you with leeches.

b.u.t.ter the b.i.t.c.h up.

That's a lovely outfit, and you do something pleasant with your lips. She smiles back, not really at you, just stretching her lips to show the world a well-formed skull, and she says, Thank you, I made it myself. She did? And you think of that head nurse at Hollywood Hospital, years ago; saw her the first time you went in to dry out. Next time you ended up there, there she was again, except this time she was a patient. You look back at Turn-of-the-Century Theresa and her flowing brown skirt, cape flung back, gently kissing the ankles of her dark stockings. Jesus Christ.

Look away. Yes, start looking.

Look up, down the hall.

Look for neon red that smells Exit.

You stand up. The nurse glances, flesh pulls back to her ears again, just a little teeth this time. Well, you sigh pa.s.sively, think maybe I'll go take a walk. She nods, makes a sunny mm sound.

Now walk. You reach behind again, trying to close the flap. Ridiculous-if they weren't so busy shooting your a.s.s full of drugs, a person could have a gown that closed in front.

Find the exit, worry about clothes when you get home. Just nonchalantly, not-making-a-break-for-it. Hum. No, don't hum; too obvious. Be dazed, aimless.

EXIT.

Glance over your shoulder-no reason.

Quick. Throw your weight into the door.

It opens. You're out! It's a parking lot. Walk straight ahead. Act natural. Think. Now think. No purse. Well, hitchhike then. Surely to G.o.d someone will see you are in distress. Get through these cars, get to the road, just get the h.e.l.l out of here.

Oh s.h.i.t, you feel a pressure-patting. A heavy man-hand pats your shoulder. OK, now, and you stop.

Freeze.

Orderly. It's a G.o.dd.a.m.n orderly. The jig's up. OK, now, let's just go back inside, you're not dressed for socializing Gonna get yourself in trouble out here, and he takes your arm in his huge meathook and you go limp like those wildebeests on Wild Kingdom when they realize they're dinner. He escorts you back inside.

She's waiting for you, brown drape cascading over her mean little b.r.e.a.s.t.s now, hiding her shoulders, just her forearms poking out, ring of keys in her hand. She shakes her head at you, makes a tut-tut noise, you bad-bad girl. Turns on her heel, as only a nurse in a cape could do, and you feel like sticking a fork in that bun at the back of her head, letting the steam out. As you are being tossed back in the quiet room, you give her a snide glare. You're a pretty tough broad, aren'tcha?

And she slides you the closed-mouth grin of two-hundred-year-old paintings, the one reserved for heathens and heretics, and she says, I'm a tough lady, yes.

Hoffman, Anne Eilleen 6.11.74 (T. Baker) Call to Dr. Klaus in morning. He said Mrs. H's Motivation was lousy, that she had gotten violent in emergency after I had left last night, throwing things around, etc., had left several times, but had come back with him when he went out after her (at one point, she was standing in the middle of 12th Avenue, hitchhiking.) Dr. Klaus had her agree to stay only after he threatened to commit her. He said she was manipulative, looking for support, sympathy, and continuing her dependency. He and Dr. Pantern were going to try to get her into the psych. ward, but did not know if anything could be done as she was uncooperative. If a neighbor would press charges against Mr. H. regarding the knife threatening incident, then a court could order her into a program. Otherwise not much can be done.

Clothing vouchers made out for Grace. A visit was made to Mrs. Pong, the landlady, re Mrs. H. Mrs. Pang does not want to get involved. I talked to Sheryl Sugarman who seemed uncomfortable with the idea of pressing charges against Mrs. H. and besides had never seen anything that would warrant a charge, except perhaps Mrs. H. ppummeling Mrs. Pong's door last Friday night.

Visit to foster home; Grace was taken to see Dr. Lee. Grace showed excess protein in her urine, otherwise everything all right.

Received call that evening from Julie Smith of Downtown Care Team at V.G.H. We talked a good deal about resources for Mrs. H. but she was rather negative as Mrs. H. was uncooperative and manipulative. Later I received a call from a nurse at VGH emergency who wanted to inform me that Mrs. H. would probably be out by tomorrow morning as she was insistent on signing herself out despite the wishes of her doctor.

Eilleen Nine.

NOVEMBER 1974.

YOU DON'T HAVE to stay, Eilleen, I just really wish you would ... Of course you're not crazy-I've had a talk with them, things just got a little out of hand, on their parts, and maybe yours too or you wouldn't have ended up here. Calm down. I'm not trying to pull anything on you here, I just want to see you get on your feet so you can get your daughter back. I'll get you a room upstairs-it's not like this, I promise, it's nice.

That was your shrink talking. Yours, not theirs. You finally got that Cuckoo's Nest b.i.t.c.h to call your psychiatrist-Just call him, call him yourself and get him down here. You requested your purse for the phone number; truth was, you'd only seen him a couple times, ages ago, and couldn't remember his name. Went to him at Dr. Graham's suggestion, when Graham got sick of your face, sick of handing out prescriptions. p.i.s.sed you off at the time, but now -thank G.o.d for boredom and loneliness, the need to talk. To a man who would say in a smooth gentle voice, And how does that make you feel?

So you gave in; this time too. Maybe he was right, maybe it was worth staying for a while and letting them look after you. And now you're upstairs, but only because Doctor-oh h.e.l.l, why can't you remember his name: Pasteur, Pastern-anyway, your shrink told their shrinks that you don't belong downstairs, that you can be by an open window with little risk. Fact is, you just want to get the h.e.l.l out of here. Want to find your baby. Want to know where they put her. And all you get is the runaround.

They've already sent one of their quacks in-Doctor Klaus-couple hours after you got up here. He sat down, asked a stream of questions and took notes and you tried to be good, be co-operative, but what's the G.o.dd.a.m.n point: you're a drunk, not a mental case. And it's been over a week; already been through the worst of it: the shakes and pain, the DTS, creeps and gremlins hiding in the corners. All gone. You're on an upturn now. So you look like s.h.i.t. It's what's inside that counts.

And all during Klaus's inquisition, you tried to tell him you'd be better off outside, getting your affairs in order. You have to move and clean up the house and you have to find your little girl. His response? Well, you're here now and here's where you're staying. If you were fit to look after a child, you'd be doing it. And that bony German face registering nothing but the task at hand, the proper channels. So you tried Yes, well you're right, I was having problems, drinking too much, and now I'm not, I'm sober, so I don't see the point in staying here. I don't need a shrink, just a kick in the pants and some AA and you laughed, ha-ha, see how lighthearted I am, not crazy.

He didn't look up from his clipboard, stopped scribbling only to scratch his temple with the end of his pen, then, When you feel depressed, do you experience insomnia or do you find yourself lethargic, sleeping a lot?

When I'm depressed, I find myself depressed. Doctor Paster told me I could leave if I wanted and I've decided that I want to.

If you're referring to Doctor Pantern, that's irrelevant. He's not your attending physician, I am, I'm your doctor and only I can sign you out, and frankly, I don't see fit to do that. If I were in your position, Mrs. Hoffman, I'd be doing everything I could to make myself a reliable healthy parent in order to regain custody of my child. At the rate you're going, you'll never see her again.

Is that a threat?

It's an evaluation.

And then he left. And you sat on your bed feeling like someone just clubbed your face in, thinking there's no f.u.c.king way he's going to keep me here, no f.u.c.king way. But scared, heart flitting around like maybe they could do anything they wanted. They could take her permanently, find her father and give her to him.

You had your regular street clothes back on, so you went and sat in the common room, ended up talking to some guy, kind of a cute old thing, and chatted, and it turned out he'd spent time in Hollywood Hospital too. Said he'd had electric shock treatment. And he wanted it again because it was the only thing that could get him off the booze for any length of time: the dizzy mind-blank and the darkness afterward as if there were nothing but the very moment he was experiencing; he kind of liked it. Said, Christ, maybe I just need it now and then-blots out everything the way booze does me except it clears me out for a while and gets me off the booze, 'cause I'm tellin' ya, the same as they told me-if I don't get off for good, it's gonna be the-pardon my French-f.u.c.kin' death of me. He asked how you were making out, if you needed a Librium or something for the shakes, I got a whole barrel of 'em in my room. He told you his partner brought them by. He and his partner had this scam going where they printed up their own prescriptions with a fake doctor's name and the number of a phone booth in the east end somewhere. One guy would bring it to a drugstore downtown while his friend waited at the phone in case the pharmacy should call and double-check. It sounded so brilliant yet familiar -Genius: it's always on the cusp of the obvious.

It's your fourth day in here, no, third, it was day before yesterday Baker brought you in and you're starting to lose your temper. You don't try to escape for fear they'll sick the hospital thugs on you, throw you back in the cubbyhole. The nurse said Klaus would be back in to see you today at 3:00 p.m. That's your appointment. In five minutes. All day you've been putting in time, figuring how the h.e.l.l to get yourself out of this. Even called Baker; tried yelling at him. Then you appealed to his Mighty Mouse sensibilities, ones that might rescue. Told him that Klaus had threatened you with never seeing Grace again, threatened you with being here indefinitely.

He had s.h.i.t-all to reply, really. Baker-why bother. Said he was sorry and that he was powerless at this juncture. Then you started to cry and told him that there was no way that son of a b.i.t.c.h was keeping you from your baby. He said a lot of nothing and then he had to go. So you spent the next five hours puttering and trying to think up a plan. A plan, a plan, my Librium for a plan. That shock therapy guy gave you ten of them this morning, brought them in on the q.t. and dropped them into your palm like Smarties. Like Christmas. They don't do much, but they do soothe the shakes and twitches, might help you feel more human in the face of Herr Shrink-and speak of the devil-Germans, nothing if not punctual.

He says, h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Hoffman, how are you today?

s.h.i.t, no plan. So you say, Fine. How 'bout yourself? ... Ah, I'd like to talk with you about something, though. I' given a lot of thought to it and I've decided that this isn't the kind of place conducive to, uh, getting better, healing, for me and I'd like to discuss being an outpatient.

He jogs his head and rolls his eyes to the side before he looks at you, and when he does, it's as if he's looking at someone so nitwitted and swine-like, it's an annoyance to cast his pearls before you. Look, Mrs. Hoffman, you better take a good hard look at yourself and what you've become. If you don't make some changes and pull up your socks, you will never see your daughter again. And that's not a threat, it's a fact.

Your heart is crawling into your throat like something from a horror movie. If he'd just stop saying that, if everyone would just stop holding your child for ransom. Christ, now you're drizzling in front of him. He thinks he's trumped you now, that you're crying in remorse, that you're broke like a scrawny dusty old nag. He says, Cry all you want, Mrs. Hoffman, if that helps. Realize, though, that you're not getting out of here and things aren't going to progress until you make some attempt to co-operate.

You wipe your eyes. Christ, you're a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Well, how is it then that I'm supposed to get out of here?

You get out when your physician signs you out. And I'm your physician and I won't be signing you out until I see enough change in you to warrant that.

He's your physician. Who died and made him your physician? How 'bout this: Well, what if I were to tell you that I am releasing you as my physician? His ice eyes go black. How about if I were to tell you that I will no longer be needing your services and I'll be finding another doctor to care for me, how would that suit you?

His chiselled face droops ever so flaccid, and you, my good woman, have become your own Mighty Mouse and, looking at this man, you wish he had a twisty dark moustache because it seems he is this far from clenching his fists and saying Drat, foiled again. But no, he has regained his composure and pushed the pen back in his breast pocket. That is certainly your prerogative, Mrs. Hoffman, he says, and walks out the door.

Hoffman, Anne Eilleen 7.11.74 (T. Baker) I received a call this morning from a nurse in the psych ward at the VGH who said that Mrs. H. had signed herself out of the hospital against the wishes of her doctors and despite the fact that first tests regarding her liver showed something was very wrong. I subsequently received a call from Mrs. Sugarman who said Grace had come to visit her and had just left when Mrs. H. came in. I called Mrs. Hood who had not known that Grace was up to old neighborhood and asked her to keep Grace within sight for a while and ask her not to go up to her friend's in her mother's building.

I called Sheryl Sugarman who said Mrs. H. had staggered in, and that Mrs. Pong had fainted, then gone off to see her doctor (apparently afraid of what might happen with Mrs. H. back). Mrs. Png told Sheryl Sugarman not to give the key (a spare) back to Mrs. H. but I advised her that she had to as the apartment was still Mrs. H's. I also asked her to send Grace back to the foster home if she re-appeared and told her there was probably little more I could do to help Mrs. H.

8.11.74. (T. Baker) I had a long talk with Grace, both about her mother's medical condition and about the necessity of her staying away from her old neighborhood. I told her that her mother had signed herself out of hospital despite blood sugar and liver problems. I also asked her not to go up to visit Sheryl Sugarman or Alice or any of her friends up there until I have been able to get her mother into a program. We discussed this for a while and she agreed to stay in her new neighborhood. I also asked about her possibly attending a new school (Edith Cavell) both because of possible interference by her mother at Wolfe and because Edith Cavell is closer to the Hoods'. Grace really liked this idea but largely because she does not get along with her present teacher who is apparently a strict disciplinarian and has been very strict with Grace not realizing Grace's home situation.

9.11.74. (T. Baker) Call to Mrs. Sugarman: Mrs. H. still drinking. Is cleaning her apt. some, feeling that this is all she needs to do in order to get Grace back.

Call to Dr. Klaus: Mrs. H. has liver impairment, will become jaundiced and may go into coma if she does not stop drinking. She had refused to accept Dr. Klaus as her doctor (she says he is "too strict") and once Dr. Pantern discharged her from Psych. Dept. as totally uncooperative, Mrs. H. simply signed herself out. Dr. Klaus stated strongly that Mrs. H. was incapable of caring for Grace. Said there was nothing more he could do.

Visit to Mrs. H. Still drinking. Refuses to see Dr. Klaus or Dr. Henighan, refused to enter any residential program. She had seen Dr. Person (unknown) and had gotten some pills (unclear what). She did not believe Dr. Klaus' test reust results and had gone to the lab at 750 West Broadway for other tests. She said she had no food I promised to return later with a voucher.

I next spoke with Mrs. Sugarman: She explained that Mrs. H. had broken a window in her apamtment, had been banging on walls and doors in the building after midnight, etc. Apparently a bootlegger in the area supplies Mrs. H. Also Mrs. H. said, on Sunday night, she was going to get Grace and take off into the interior. I picked Grace up after school as I was afraid Mrs. H. would show up, took her to her foster home and there apprehended under section K. I also arranged to have Grace transferred to Edith Cavell effective Wednesday November 12.

I later visited Mrs. H. and explained that I had apprehended Grace, going through the reasons carefully. She was still in a stupor and became very maudlin, etc. I left a grocery voucher and the names of counsellors to call at some rehab centers.

12.11.74 (T. Baker) Grace taken to Edith Cavell in am. Grace was a bit nervous but overall happy with the change, as both Wendy and Lilly attend Edith Cavell. Grace told me of a dream she had, where a "boyfriend" of her mother's chased her down a back alley that was filled with beer bottles (like her mother's apartment).

Arrangements made with Mrs. Hood (regarding Graces' baton lessons, visits with friends, scout group, swimming lessons, etc.) to insure as far as possible that Mrs. H. does not try to pick Grace up. Mrs. H. has been informed that she cannot have contact with Grace until she sobers up.

14.11.74 (T. Baker) Visit to Mrs. H. She ws not at home but her friend Doreen was there. She told me that Mrs. H. is in a deep depression over Grace. She feels it is her fault and has tried to help Mrs. H. by cleaning the apartment. Most things had been put away and the floor had been washed. She began to explain that she had called the police that night NOT because of Grace but because Mrs. H. had taken "about 15 different kinds of pills and was drinking like a fish." She had been afraid that Mrs. H. would kill herself. I explained what I had been trying to do especially in getting Mrs. H. into a program for her alcoholism. Also that our purpose was not to keep Grace forever but only until Mrs. H. had shown that she was managing and capable of caring for Grace. I aso clearly explained that Grace was now a child-before-the-court under the guardianship of the Superintendant of Child Protection. I explained because Sheryl S. had called this morning to say that Mrs. H. was trying to get someone to drive her around to all the schools in the area to try to get Grace at noon hour.

Called later to Edith Cavell the princ.i.p.al will arrange things so that Grace will not be out at lunch hour.

17.11.74 (T. Baker) Mrs. Pong called to complain again about Mrs. H. who has been banging on doors etc., keeping people awake. I referred her to the Rentals man as there is really nothing more I can do. Apparently Mrs. H. is still drinking.

Grace Ten.

NOVEMBER 1974.

TODD BAKER didn't have much to say about it all. He said he never told me "a few days," that I decided that. That he said a little while because "three months is a little while," and that I had a habit of interpreting things to suit my needs then acting surprised when stuff didn't get delivered as for my expectations, or something. He said my mum was going to need more than a few days to get on her feet and I had to be supportive by doing my best. That my mum had an unpredictable mind right now and if I wanted to really help I would switch schools, work hard and try to make things run smoothly instead of fight them every step of the way. I just said forget-it in my head and tried to think about how at least I wouldn't have to have a.n.u.s in my life now.

The worst part about the new school was having to walk there every morning with Wendy and Lilly. Mostly they talked about being a Witness. By around my first week, I knew Lilly was sick of me and couldn't wait till February. And then as soon as someone said anything about time and waiting for stuff, Wendy started going on about Armageddon, and how you never know when G.o.d's wrath is going to come, in three months or three minutes, to kill the ones that are wrecking the earth. That was in Revelations; she was always saying everything about Revelations.

It was kind of weird about Wendy: it was like how you think a bear is going to be slow and dumb, but really it's super-fast and kills you-well, I thought Wendy being thick all over and moving slower meant she couldn't get me or something, and yappy Lilly was the one to watch out for, but it wasn't Lilly who was giving me nightmares now.

Wendy told me on the way to school that there were signs every day that Jesus was coming; that for now, Satan controlled the earth but there would be a great war and the world would be destroyed, not because of a flood, because G.o.d said he'd never do it that way again, but probably nuclear war, she figured. "Because it says, in the time of the end, the king of the South, that's the Eagle, and that's for sure the States, will engage in a pushing with the king of the North, the Bear, and that's Russia. That's how the world'll end and you can tell now how they're going to have World War Three. And plus all the famine and earthquakes and false prophets-those are the signs, you know. Just turn on TV and there's all these people pretending they're Christians but they're not-Satan is their lord." I thought of Josh's living room and the healings on TV. I could hear him giggling and giggling. Wendy's voice came loud again. "Satan's like a prost.i.tute, you know, luring G.o.d's creatures to worldly religions like Catholics and stuff so they think they'll be saved when Armageddon comes, but really they'll be destroyed. G.o.d will once again rule the earth and remember his servants and resurrect them." She took a breath, did up her coat more and looked up at the rain dripping off the trees.

Lilly rolled her eyes. "I don't think it'll be a bomb cuz that would wreck the whole planet."

"So what, there'll be a new heaven on earth. G.o.d'll just fix it and the ones who were his servants will be resurrected." Wendy's lips pushed up under her nose the way her mum's did.

"So. I'm just saying. I think it'll be a different way. I think maybe it's gonna be The Killer Bees. It even said in the paper that Killer Bees are coming."

"Oh yeah, Lilly, like some bees are going to get all the wicked. Prime Minister Trudeau isn't gonna get it with a bee sting-duh!"

"Shut up. You don't know everything. It's not going to be a dumb war!"

"Do you listen? Ever? It says in black and white that there's going to be a war-rulers and armies of every nation will be a.s.sembled in opposition to G.o.d. Must you contradict me at every turn?"