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Show Anting Alone Page 298 No hospital for this man. Maybe he didn't need a hospital. Or maybe he should be in intensive care right at this very moment. Or a morgue. She knew nothing of medicine, unlike Mother Pudentiana, not even first aid. In any case, it was apparent now from those rips across his body that mere postcards would not be powerful enough to keep this person from sailing off the surface of the world. She was going to have to contrive a way to get him to spend most of the next three days in a place where he would not have the chance to destroy his body further. He was beyond mere psychic preservation. She was worried about his skeleton now, his internal organs strung inside, for God's sake. How about Saint Paphnutius? What serious trauma could befall a person's body at a convent? Spirits were killed at convents, not bodies. The days of Protestant mobs storming and burning nunneries passed a hundred years ago. Yes, Saint Paphnutius would be good. The more time she could get him to hang around there until she got back the better. And one of the three weird sisters, Babo, Ido or Castrensia, could offer him first aid, or call an ambulance full of burly paramedics who could wrestle him to safety - if he needed such consideration. Polly had no idea. Bodies were not her field of specialty. Let's see, What reason besides to stare at the Poes could she give him to go to Cheyenne Mountain? She had it. "Dr. Edwine?" In a loud, firm voice. "Doctor? I'm no doctor." The poor man's personality was disintegrating before her eyes. His |