19

Angilo tells me there was a terrorist attack, today.

He stormed into the apartment maybe an hour after I got back. Furious and upset and torn - an emotional intensity I don't think I've ever seen from him. At least, not in person.

"What happened?" I asked - not looking at him.

"A bomb," said Angilo, through his teeth. "A bomb. In the Sears Tower."

My chest tightened. "Set by who?"

"Nest Haven."

My vision went red, for an instant. My hands were trembling. "That's not possible."

"Turn on the news!" Angilo snarled. "Watch it for yourself! They claimed responsibility an hour ago."

"They're full of shit," I told him, bluntly.

"And what," said Angilo, "do you know about Nest Haven?"

There's no point.

Two months ago Whitman told me he was from Nest Haven. I was surprised, then. I suppose I can't blame Angilo for holding the stereotype.

"What's going to happen now?" I asked. My voice was softer, somehow, than I'd been expecting.

Angilo hesitated, for a long, horrible moment. "I hope nothing," he said.