Francis gazes at the large black spire jutting out of the plaza. I wonder if Bobby's name is on it? How on earth did they get everybody recorded? Remembering the mangled bodies he ran past when he escaped, Francis couldn't help but feel sorry for the people who had to identify the bodies.

The voice of the woman snaps him out of his thoughts. He pulls his invitation out and hands the tickets to the woman. Here we are. How many people like me received invitations? The fact that she said guests had not escaped him.