20TWENTY-EIGHT HOURS LATER"When do we go home?" Judd gazes at the never-ending throng with eyes so bloodshot, they look a hundred percent red. His voice is a croak of total exhaustion. "Haven't we helped enough people yet?"
I'm tired too, so wiped out I keep slipping in and out of consciousness. "I thought we'd be done by now." I drift off for an instant, then snap back. "So much for that theory."
As the next guy starts up the porch steps, another bus-blotch bounces up and parks along the street. (Buses are like paint-blotch cars here, only bigger.) The blur of paint opens up, and dozens more people tumble to the pavement, ready to pour their hearts out.
We would've been okay if not for the buses. There are twelve of them now, giant blotches idling in the street, waiting for th
