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REVELATION 22:11

And he that is holy, let him be holy still.

~ * ~

"We have to move," McDole told Ira and Calie. "I know we've only been back a couple of hours and its going to be difficult with all these new people, but tell everyone to be ready by ten o'clock." Beneath his anguished eyes, his cheeks were hollow from lack of sleep. Last night had been difficult beyond words; while Alex's choice of a hiding place had proven wise, the darktime hours had been filled with terror as they dragged painfully by in the wait for dawn. "We'll give them one more hour—"

"That won't be necessary."

McDole spun, nearly tripping over the chair behind him. For a moment he couldn't even speak. "How did you get in here?" he choked out. "How did you even know where to come?"

Stephen smiled calmly at the older man and Calie, who was staring at him openmouthed with Beau cradled in her arms. His face darkened. "C.J. and Louise won't be coming back," he said in a low voice.

Calie sobbed, just once, then lifted her chin. "They . . . they didn't—"

"No," Stephen answered simply. "They didn't." McDole sat heavily onto the chair and stared at the floor.

"Calie." Dr. Perlman hobbled into the room. "I'm having a hard time—" He stopped at the sight of Stephen. "I thought you'd . . ."

"Be dead? No, not yet." He gazed at the doctor, his eyes an odd mirror of Jo's. "I came because I . . . had a feeling you needed help with Renata."

Perlman started to say something, then dismissed it. "Come with me," he said. Yesterday's frantic exercise made him limp heavily as he led Stephen down a long hallway, then up a flight of stairs into a room converted to a makeshift hospital ward. Calie and McDole followed glumly as the doctor showed Stephen to the far end, where the pregnant woman they'd rescued yesterday strained against restraints. "We had to tie her again. I can't even hold a logical conversation with her," Perlman complained. "She won’t listen, she won't talk." Perlman looked haggard. "Listen, I'm a bacteriologist, not a psychiatrist. All I know for sure is I can't keep her sedated; it's bad for both the baby and her."

Stephen stepped to the woman's bed. "Renata," he said gently, "Dr. Perlman wants to discuss the baby with you."

"How do you know everyone's name?" McDole asked in the background.

Calie shot him a puzzled glance. "Wasn't he with you at the Mart yesterday?"

"It's evil!" Renata shouted suddenly. Spittle sprayed from her mouth. "The child is a monster!"

"Not at all," Stephen said soothingly. "Howard is dead, Renata. This isn't his child, it's yours." His fingers stroked the damp hair from her sweat-drenched forehead. "A baby, blameless, at the mercy of someone else." He paused, then leaned close. "Do you remember what it was like to be at someone else's mercy, Renata?" She stiffened. "Think of a child subjected to that kind of hatred." The woman's hands gripped the bedrails until the fingernails showed white; she began to cry.

"Then"—Stephen let his hand drop briefly to the small swell of her stomach—"think of a child raised under opposite circumstances, how a . . . boy might grow into a fine man if he were cherished and taught to love others in a healthy way." His fingers found the sheet strips around Renata's wrists and began untying them; Perlman shuffled nervously. "Your son, Renata. You might name him . . ." Stephen's gaze flicked to McDole and Calie, then back. ". . . Clement Judd, after that brave young man who gave his life to help free you and the others." He stopped and studied her. "That is, of course, if you decide you want to keep the boy after all."

Silence, heavy and fearful, settled on the small group as they all stared at Renata. For the first time since her explosive arrival yesterday, her hands were free. Perlman looked ready to leap if she made the slightest movement.

"It's a boy?" Renata asked in a small voice. Her hands folded tentatively around her stomach.

"Yes." Stephen backed away and motioned for the others to follow.

"You're sure—"

Perlman began, but Stephen waved at him to be quiet. On the bed, Renata sat up and looked around; after a second she poured herself a glass of water from the bedside pitcher, then picked up a small hand mirror from the table and frowned at her reflection.

"She'll be okay," Stephen assured Perlman. "She just needed to remember that the villain was Howard, not the child."

"Clement Judd?" Calie raised her eyebrows.

Stephen gave her a distracted glance. “A nice name, don't you think?"