Valentine didn't see a destination for the list. He flipped to the next page.
"That's just an old census. Showed she lived near Pine Bluff before Solon's takeover. Also Leuber."
Valentine had gone to a war college in Pine Bluff when the commander of Zulu Company offered him a position as lieutenant. He looked at the picture again, trying to associate it with a memory from the town. Nothing.
The third page was the strangest of all. It was a photocopy of a list, and the names were handwritten. Fifty names, numbered 401 to 450. TESTING STATION 9-P was the legend up at the top. Gail's name was in the middle, along with her age. His eyes found it quickly thanks to an X in the column marked "result." All the other names had blanks in the "result" column. Someone had handwritten "She's gone for good" at the top corner, though whether this was a note to Post or not none could say.
"What's this?"
"That's the oddball. Got it about a month ago. It came in an envelope with just my address on it."
Valentine looked at the attached envelope. Post must have received it just before they moved into the Love Field positions. Valentine could remember a change in Post, a resignation, but had attributed it to the strain of the siege.
He examined the document's envelope. Typewritten, obviously with a manual typewriter. Valentine deciphered the stamp-Pine Bluff again. But the post number wasn't the one for the war college. The Miskatonic? The researchers there studied the Kurian Order, probing unpleasant shadows and gruesome corners.
"No cover letter?"
"Nothing."
"How can I help?"
Post took a moment, either to gather thoughts or breathe. "You know people. The"-he lowered his voice, as though fearing comment from the blind man in the next bed-"Lifeweavers. Those researchers. Intelligence. I'd like to know what happened to her after she was taken. No matter how bad the news."
People herded onto trains seldom came to a happy end. Valentine had been in Solon's meetings, heard about "payments" in the form of captives going to the neighboring KZs. "You sure? Maybe you don't."
"She's still alive in my head," Post said.
"Exactly."
Post's lined eyes regained some of their old liveliness. "No, not that way. I always knew she was alive, even when I thought you were just another CM. Can't say how I know. A feeling. I still feel it. You know about feelings like that."
He did. Some inner warning system sometimes let him know when there was a Reaper around-the "Valentingle," his comrades in the Wolves used to call it. First as a joke. Then they learned to trust it.
"I can ask around." Post was right; he had a couple of tenuous contacts at the Miskatonic-the main scholarly center for research into the Kurian Order-and with Southern Command's intelligence. But that was pre-Solon. For all he knew they were dead or lost in the chaos civilians were already calling "the bad spell."
"Let me know the truth, whatever it is, Val."
"Can I have these?"
"Sure. I copied down everything in my journal."
Valentine rested his hand on Post's forearm. "Listen to the doctors and get better. The Razors need you back, even if you're stumping around on a piece of East Texas pine."
"I heard they were breaking up the Razors," Post said.
"From who?"
Post shrugged, and the effort left him red-faced. "Some doctor. Asked me what outfit I was with."
"Probably a rumor. Lots of stuff floating around military hospitals."
"Yeah, like turds in a bedpan," Post's neighbor said.
"A regular Lieutenant Suzy Sunshine, that guy," Post said. Lieutenant Suzy Sunshine was a PoUyannaish cartoon character in one of the army papers-Freedom's Voice-who turned any misfortune into a cheerful quip.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Valentine said.
"I'm not going anywhere."