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" There," she blurted after a few minutes, pointing in the direction of a brightly lit building at the corner of Jefferson Barracks Drive and Telegraph Road.Once in the parking lot, Niko pulled her up close, bending close to her ear. "When we go in here just keep your head down. Smile and don't look too directly at anyone. Steer clear of the security cameras, if you can."She nodded, forcing a smile to her lips when she walked through the automatic doors. Feeling suddenly vulnerable under the bright lights, she stayed close to him as they picked their way through the aisles, tossing the items they needed into a shopping cart."Where're you going?" he hissed as she pushed the cart away from the first aid isles."We'll need sterile water," she whispered back.Leading the way, Camille selected several gallons of distilled water, towels, soap, and other toiletries. Just for good measure, she also grabbed a package of men's t-shirts and a couple of blankets as well as some underwear for. In the van, we chatted about school and politics, and how different members of the family were faring in their various ports and prisons. Grandma had all the information on the family, everyone always kept in touch with her. After a short but absolutely jammed drive, we arrived at Caesar’s. Once settled in the restaurant, my mother picked up her handbag to take out her insulin. As she searched the contents, her face became very serious. Glancing with apparent embarrassment around the table, she spoke. ‘I can’t find my insulin. I must have left it in the carrying bag.’ Not good. I was just about to offer to run back to the hotel for it, when David beat me to it. She was mortified, and kept apologizing. He graciously brushed aside the apologies, insisting it was no problem. Turning to me, he asked if I would join him. A strange look passed between my mother, sister and grandmother. I wondered briefly what it meant, but finally assumed it was surprise at his eagerness to help. Usually.
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