Wildcards

MATTER WHAT SOAK YOUR HANDKERCHIEFS. STAY IN THE RANKS UNTIL WE REACH

THE TOMB. HELP YOUR NEIGHBOR IF HE NEEDS IT OKAY, LET'S GO!" The power was in his voice again. Sondra heard it and saw the reaction of the others; the sudden eagerness, the shouted responses. Even her own breath quickened to hear him. Gimli cocked his head toward Sondra, a mocking gleam in his eyes. "You coming or are you going to go fuck someone?"

"It's a mistake," Sondra insisted. She sighed, pulling at the collar of the dress and looking at the others, who stared at her. There was no support from them, not from Peanut, not from Tinhorn, not from Zona or Calvin or File-none of those who sometimes backed her during the meetings. She knew that if she stayed behind now, any hope she had of holding Miller in check would be gone. She glanced back at the park, at the groups of jokers huddling together and forming a rough line; the faces were apprehensive, but nonetheless resolute. Sondra shrugged her shoulders. "I'm going," she said.

"I'm so happy," Gimli drawled. He snorted his derision.