front of her. He raised the pipe above his head, but Alex saw that he had no intention of striking out with it. "The Good Lord has singled you out for salvation, and I am his prophet, come to anoint you."
"Terrific," Jo said, arching one eyebrow elegantly as she glanced at Alex. "I always thought I was kind of special."
"Me, too." Alex moved toward them, putting the safety on the Ingram. He looked up at the bearded man, who must have been nearly seven feet tall. "But your friend the prophet doesn't recognize my divinity, I guess."
The bearded man turned on him. "You blaspheme. This woman is not divine, she has merely been singled out for a purpose by God."
"Yeah, I guess there is a difference."
"Indeed there is, sir." The old man looked straight at him, and Alex was almost startled by the blue clarity of his eyes. They were the eyes of someone thirty years younger than this man.
"What's your name?" Jo asked him.
He turned back to her, and opened his mouth. No words came for a few seconds, as if he were struggling to remember. At last he said, "Samuel."
"My name is Jo, Samuel. And this is Alex."
"This man is a warrior," said Samuel. "The Lord has protected him from harm in this wasteland. And now he has been sent to help you, Jo."
"Help me do what?"
Samuel bowed his head. "I don't know, for I have not been given that knowledge. The Lord will make His purpose clear in His own good time."
"Yeah, I guess He will." It occurred to Alex that he might have run into this man on the streets of Center City before the war. There were so many street people, sad schizophrenics with no place to go. It was ironic that so many of them had survived, while most of those who had gotten along in the old days were gone. The meek had inherited the earth, after all—what was left of it.
"When was the last time you had something to eat, Samuel?" Alex asked. "We've got a little food we can share."
Jo looked at him with surprise.
"The Lord's work is demanding," Alex said, pulling a can of pineapple chunks from his pack and pulling the tab. "Can't do it on an empty stomach."
"Yours is a generous spirit, my son," Samuel said. "I know the Lord will take note of what you have done."
"You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"
But Samuel was too busy wolfing down the sweet fruit chunks to answer. He squatted by the brick wall and enjoyed himself.
"How do you suppose he survived all this time?" said Jo. "He's so old and slow moving."
"Perhaps the Lord is protecting him," Alex said.
"Right."
He laughed. "Well, what's your explanation?"
Jo shrugged, and turned to Samuel. "I don't know, but maybe he can help us find Ishan."
"Ishan?" Samuel looked up, wiping juice from his lips. "I know that sinful street."
Jo offered a quick I-told-you-so glance to Alex. "Is it far from here, Samuel?"
"No, not at all. The Lord directed my path to that street many times, before the evil befell the world. It was as if divine forces had wanted me to take note of it each time I passed it."
Alex began to wonder if the old guy really did know where it was. A schizophrenic might say anything. On the other hand, he probably knew West Philly better than they did.
"Could you lead us there?" Jo asked.
"Yes, I shall lead you, since you have been so kind as to share your food with me." Samuel rose from the broken bricks and raised his plastic staff. "Come, follow me."
Alex could hardly refrain from laughing. There was only a remote chance that Samuel knew where he was going, but even so, it would do little harm to humor Jo. After all, who knew what they might find while they went around in circles. West Philly probably wasn't picked clean yet.
As they walked, always clinging to the shadows of gutted buildings, Alex tried to get his bearings. He thought they were somewhere near 34th Street. It seemed that Samuel actually might be leading them in the general direction of Lancaster Avenue, at the very least.
At the summit of a hill, Samuel turned and barred their
"Terrific," Jo said, arching one eyebrow elegantly as she glanced at Alex. "I always thought I was kind of special."
"Me, too." Alex moved toward them, putting the safety on the Ingram. He looked up at the bearded man, who must have been nearly seven feet tall. "But your friend the prophet doesn't recognize my divinity, I guess."
The bearded man turned on him. "You blaspheme. This woman is not divine, she has merely been singled out for a purpose by God."
"Yeah, I guess there is a difference."
"Indeed there is, sir." The old man looked straight at him, and Alex was almost startled by the blue clarity of his eyes. They were the eyes of someone thirty years younger than this man.
"What's your name?" Jo asked him.
He turned back to her, and opened his mouth. No words came for a few seconds, as if he were struggling to remember. At last he said, "Samuel."
"My name is Jo, Samuel. And this is Alex."
"This man is a warrior," said Samuel. "The Lord has protected him from harm in this wasteland. And now he has been sent to help you, Jo."
"Help me do what?"
Samuel bowed his head. "I don't know, for I have not been given that knowledge. The Lord will make His purpose clear in His own good time."
"Yeah, I guess He will." It occurred to Alex that he might have run into this man on the streets of Center City before the war. There were so many street people, sad schizophrenics with no place to go. It was ironic that so many of them had survived, while most of those who had gotten along in the old days were gone. The meek had inherited the earth, after all—what was left of it.
"When was the last time you had something to eat, Samuel?" Alex asked. "We've got a little food we can share."
Jo looked at him with surprise.
"The Lord's work is demanding," Alex said, pulling a can of pineapple chunks from his pack and pulling the tab. "Can't do it on an empty stomach."
"Yours is a generous spirit, my son," Samuel said. "I know the Lord will take note of what you have done."
"You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"
But Samuel was too busy wolfing down the sweet fruit chunks to answer. He squatted by the brick wall and enjoyed himself.
"How do you suppose he survived all this time?" said Jo. "He's so old and slow moving."
"Perhaps the Lord is protecting him," Alex said.
"Right."
He laughed. "Well, what's your explanation?"
Jo shrugged, and turned to Samuel. "I don't know, but maybe he can help us find Ishan."
"Ishan?" Samuel looked up, wiping juice from his lips. "I know that sinful street."
Jo offered a quick I-told-you-so glance to Alex. "Is it far from here, Samuel?"
"No, not at all. The Lord directed my path to that street many times, before the evil befell the world. It was as if divine forces had wanted me to take note of it each time I passed it."
Alex began to wonder if the old guy really did know where it was. A schizophrenic might say anything. On the other hand, he probably knew West Philly better than they did.
"Could you lead us there?" Jo asked.
"Yes, I shall lead you, since you have been so kind as to share your food with me." Samuel rose from the broken bricks and raised his plastic staff. "Come, follow me."
Alex could hardly refrain from laughing. There was only a remote chance that Samuel knew where he was going, but even so, it would do little harm to humor Jo. After all, who knew what they might find while they went around in circles. West Philly probably wasn't picked clean yet.
As they walked, always clinging to the shadows of gutted buildings, Alex tried to get his bearings. He thought they were somewhere near 34th Street. It seemed that Samuel actually might be leading them in the general direction of Lancaster Avenue, at the very least.
At the summit of a hill, Samuel turned and barred their
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