The hotel was not safe, of course, but what place was when the world
was at an end? Rena and I, between us, got her father, Benedetto,
upstairs into her room without attracting too much attention. We put
him on the bed and peeled back his jacket.
The bullet had gone into his shoulder, a few inches above the heart.
The bone was splintered, but the bleeding was not too much. Rena did
what she could and, for the first time in what seemed like years, we
had a moment's breathing space.