js&cs.thebridge-第1章

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　　William　Blake
　　
　　〃Nature　does　not　premeditate；　she　does　not　use　mathematics；　she　does　not　deliberately　produce　whole　patterns；　she　lets　whole　patterns　produce　themselves。　Nature　does　what　nature　demands；　she　is　beyond　blame　and　responsibility。〃
　　Peter　S。　Stevens
　　　Patterns　in　Nature
　　　
　　　
　　　One
　　　
　　Sunday；　November　23
　　Paradise；　Pennsylvania
　　3：00　a。m。
　　
　　The　thing　Boonie　loved　most　about　dumping　off　Black　Bridge　was　how　altogether　goddam　convenient　it　was。　Take；　for　example；　the　traveling　time。　Even　with　miniature　minefields　of　ice　booby…trapping　the　backroads　of　Hellam；　he　figured　ten　minutes　tops　in　the　old　Dodge　truck　to　hump　a　full　load　of　barrels　from　there　to　here。
　　So　even　if　the　storm　broke　before　they　were　done…and　the　odds　on　that　kept　looking　better　and　better…it　still　wouldn't　take　them　but　forty…five　minutes　to　unload　the　whole　batch　and　skedaddle　back　home。
　　On　nights　like　tonight；　he　was　especially　appreciative。
　　Not　that　they'd　seen　many　nights　quite　like　this。
　　〃Jesus；〃　Boonie　spat　out；　grinning。　〃Would　you　look　at　that　shit。〃　He　jabbed　one　oversized　thumb　at　the　clouds；　hanging　swollen　and　gray　in　the　black　sky　overhead。　His　other　hand　gripped　the　wheel　in　a　casual　stranglehold；　steering　by　intuition。　〃They　look　like　big　dead　ugly　brains；　you　know　it？　Like　the　whole　sky　is　made　out　of　brains　。。。　〃
　　〃Let's　just　go　back；　man；〃　Drew　muttered　from　the　passenger　seat；　bulging　lemur　eyes　aglisten　with　crystal　meth　and　anxiety。　〃Do　it　tomorrow　or　something。　We　can't　work　in　this　shit。〃
　　Boonie　scowled；　dodged　a　pothole。　〃You're　such　a　fuckin'　wiener；　Drew。　You　don't　like　the　storm？　I　love　it；　man。〃
　　The　sky　went　kaboom　and　neon…flickered；　winter　lightning　twitching　to　the　angry　growl　of　God。　Drew　jumped　and　shivered。　It　was　funny　as　hell。　〃I　love　this　shit；〃　Boonie　reaffirmed；　gazing　ahead　at　their　destination。
　　Black　Bridge　loomed　before　them；　stark　against　the　violent；　primal　sky。　It　didn't　need　anyone's　help　to　rate　as　ultimate　creature…feature　territory。　It　was　a　brooding；　decrepit　old　railroad　crossing；　limned　by　crumbling　stone　and　situated　smack…dab　in　the　middle　of　nowhere：　a　rusting　dinosaur　from　the　days　when　trains　were　the　lifeblood；　steel　rails　the　veins　of　Paradise　County　and　the　nation。
　　A　generation　of　disuse　had　left　it　overgrown；　flanked　by　bleached　bony　trees；　choked　with　kudzu　and　dense；　gnarled　undergrowth。　Many　of　the　ties　had　long　gone　punky　and　worm…holed；　but　its　poured　concrete　pylons　and　steel　beams　still　held；　casting　fat　lightning　shadows　on　the　murky　green　waters　of　the　Codorus　Creek；　some　thirty　feet　below。
　　The　only　way　in　was　via　Toad　Road；　a　bumpy；　chuck…holed　dirt　access　barely　wide　enough　to　acmodate　the　overloaded　truck。　Snaking　through　the　verdant　green　valley　at　the　east　end　of　the　county；　Toad　Road　went　unmarked　and　appeared　on　none　but　the　most　anal　tax　maps　of　the　county；　which　pretty　much　sewed　up　the　privacy　angle。　By　day；　it　was　home　only　to　dopers；　dirtbikers；　and　hunters　looking　to　poach　an　off…season　deer　or　two。
　　By　night；　no　one　came　there　at　all。
　　Yep；　Boonie　loved　everything　about　this　place：　its　proximity；　its　privacy；　its　dread…inducing　atmosphere。　But　the　thing　he　loved　most　was　the　simple　fact　that　if　you　pulled　right　up　in　the　middle　of　the　bridge　and　angled　the　sucker　back　until　your　ass　hung　over　the　side；　you　could　sorta　just　lean　the　barrels　off　the　back　and　let　fly　straight　into　the　creek。　Fuckers　never　even　had　to　e　down　off　the　bed。　That　cut　down　on　a　lot　of　the　really　heavy　lifting；　which　was　the　worst　part　of　the　job；　except　maybe　for　the　smell。
　　Bradley　Gene　Pusser…〃Boonie〃　to　his　friends…was　a　twenty…five…year…old；　six…foot…four…inch；　two…hundred…and…forty…seven…pound　mountain　of　ugly　intent。　His　flapjowled；　aging…Elvis　features　were　pasty　and　unpleasant；　eyes　sullen　and　bulging　under　the　brim　of　his　blue　Steelers　cap。　Along　with　his　size　and　his　nasty　disposition；　he'd　inherited　the　Pusser　genetic　penchant　toward　alcoholism；　pattern　baldness；　and　flab。
　　All　told；　life　had　been　one　steep；　harsh；　downhill　slide　since　the　end　of　his　high　school　football　career。　For　a　while　there；　back　in　the　glory　days；　he'd　been　able　to　entertain　dreams；　of　scholarships　and　pro　ball　and　a　permanent　all…expense…paid　ticket　out　of　this　pisshole　town。　His　coach　believed；　his　teammates　believed；　the　nookie…nookie　candyass　cheerleaders　believed；　and　god　damn　if　his　own　daddy…the　venerable　Otis　J。；　Jr。…hadn't　e　to　believe　that　a　Pusser　had　been　born　who　could　break　the　chain　and　bust　on　through　to　some　kind　of　success。
　　But　when　his　right　kneecap　vaporized　late　in　the　season　of　his　senior　year；　so　had　his　ticket　out　of　town；　and　his　dreams。　Suddenly；　the　calls　from　Penn　State　and　Indiana　dried　up；　his　name　disappeared　from　the　local　sports　pages；　and　Otis…who'd　taken　to　telling　everyone　within　earshot　that　his　boy　was　gonna　go　big…time…suddenly　Boonie　and　Otis　and　the　whole　goddam　family　had　to　bite　the　bullet　and　own　up　to　the　facts：　no　Pusser　was　ever　gonna　amount　to　a　hill　of　shit。
　　And　Boonie　would　always　be　a　Pusser。
　　From　that　moment　on；　he'd　thrown　himself　into　the　family　business　with　a　vengeance；　working　long　and　hard　to　make　his　Pappy　proud　again。　It　was　dirty　work；　but　it　paid　cash　money；　and　Pussers　weren't　shy　where　there　was　money　to　be　made。　In　fact；　business　had　boomed　since　he'd　taken　over　the　grunt　work；　leaving　Otis　to　preside　over　public　relations　and　pursue　his　hobby　of　stargazing　through　the　bottom　of　a　Jim　Beam　bottle。
　　On　the　other　hand；　there　was　cousin　Drew。
　　〃Here　we　go；　cuz；〃　Boonie　said；　pulling　up　to　the　point　where　the　road　met　the　railroad　tracks。　He　grunted；　shoving　the　truck　into　low　gear。　It　was　hard　to　maneuver　in　this　much　darkness；　even　the　headlights　were　swallowed　up　by　the　storm。　He　laid　on　the　gas　and　eased　off　the　clutch；　careful　to　roll　up　onto　the　tracks　without　losing　the　load。
　　〃Watch　out！〃　Drew　whined；　his　Adam's　apple　bobbing。　He　was　the　runt　of　Uncle　Bud's　litter；　a　plete　genetic　one…eighty　from　the　rest　of　the　menfolk　in　the　Pusser　family　tree。　At　twenty　years　old；　he　was　as　much　a　man　as　he　was　ever　likely　to　be：　knock…kneed　and　scrawny；　with　a　chicken…bone　chest　and　a　cratered；　crescent…moon　face。　His　hair　was　a　black　matted　oilslick　that　trickled　down　way　past　his　shoulders。　He　wore　a　black　leather　jacket　and　little　fingerless　gloves；　a　greasy　Harley　T…shirt；　and　tons　of　biker　gear；　though　he　didn't　own　a　bike　and　wouldn't　have　known　how　to　ride　it　if　he　did。
　　Drew's　contact　sport　of　choice　was　a　little　liquid…crystal　video　game　that　he　wore　on　his　digital　watch。　It　had　an　eensy　little　jet　that　bombed　a　teensy　little　city；　every　time　he　dropped　a　bomb；　it　played　a　weensy；　wheedling　melody。
　　The　truck　lurched　again；　jostling　them　so　hard　that　Drew's　head　rapped　the　ceiling。　〃Boonie！〃　he　whined。
　　〃Fuck　you；　puss。　Hang　on；〃　Boonie　growled。　The　truck　groaned　and　gnashed　gears；　big　knobby　tires　biting　into　rotted　ties。　The　barrels　shifted　hard　but　stayed。
　　〃This　place；　you　know；　it　really　makes　me　fuckin'　nervous。〃　He　diddled　with　his　watch。　Weedle　eedle　eee；　it　said。　Weedle　eedle　eee　。。。
　　〃Would　you　cut　it　out？〃　Boonie　barked。　〃God；　I　hate　that　thing！〃
　　〃Fuck　you；　man。〃　Drew　sniffled。　〃This　is　modern　technology　at　its　finest；　dude！〃
　　Weedle　eedle　eedle　eeeeee　。。。
　　He　smirked；　and　there　went　the　last　of　Boonie's　patience。　He　pegged　Drew's　skinny　little　jut…jawed　profile　with　a　straight…arm；　flat…hand　blow；　square　to　the　side　of　the　head。　Drew's　skull　cracked　painfully　against　the　passenger　side　glass；　he　bit　down　on　his　tongue　hard　enough　to　spritz　blood。
　　〃Ow！　Fug　you；　Bood！　I'b　dellin'！〃　he　whined；　gripping　his　cheek。
　　〃Swear　to　God；　Drew；　if　you　don't　stuff　it　I'm　gonna　fuckin'　leave　you　here　and　keep　your　share　of　the　money。〃
　　Drew　started　to　counter；　then　abruptly　and　visibly　changed　his　mind。　He　knew　well　enough；　from　previous　experience；　that　Boonie　was　not　fooling。
　　For　his　part；　Boonie　found　it　downright　gratifying　to　watch　Drew　fold　like　that。　It　gave　him　a　nice　warm　feeling　inside。　So　he　decided　to　be　magnanimous。　〃Here　ya　go；　peckerhead。　Got　a　surprise　for　ya。〃
　　Boonie　produced　a　reedy　little　joint　from　his　jacket　pocket。　〃Just　what　the　doctor　ordered。　Fire　'er　up。〃
　　〃Thangs；〃　Drew　sniffled；　taking　the　doob。
　　〃We　dump　this　load；　I'll　cut　us　a　couple　lines；〃　Boonie　said　paternally。　〃In　the　meantime；　I　suggest　you　stoke　up；　'cause　we　got　work　to　do。〃
　　Boonie　laid　on　the　brakes　and　brought　the　truck　to　a　shuddering　halt；　then　gnashed　it　into　reverse　and　humped　over　the　tracks　until　the　tailgate　was　butt　up　against　the　lip　of　the　rail。　The　positioning　was　perfect。　He　left　the　engine　running　against　the　cold　and　stared　out　over　his　domain。
　　Above　him；　the　heavens　thundered；　so　close　Boonie　could　feel　it　in　the　soles　of　his　shoes。　A　flash　of　lightning　seared　the　night　sky。　〃BLOOOH…HA　HA！〃　Boonie　cackled；　his　features　glowing　green　in　the　dashboard　light。　The　first　fat　raindrops　spattered　the　windshield。
　　At　last　the　storm　had　broken。
　　
　　The　Codorus　Creek　had　long　been　a　sin…eater　for　the　Industrial　Revolution：　a　chemical　cessway；　accepting　and　dispensing　with　the　intemperate　by…products　of　the　good　life。　Defense　plants；　research　laboratories；　factory　farms；　electroplate　shops；　paper　mills；　and　landfills　routinely　decanted　their　excreta　there。　As　such；　even　in　the　days　before　Boonie；　it　was　already　laced　with　〃acceptable〃　levels　of　a　thousand　wild…card　contagions：　leads；　cyanides；　arsenics；　alkalies；　chlorinated　hydrocarbons；　dioxins；　trioxons；　trichlorophenal　residues；　poisons；　and　pesticides　galore。
　　But　now　there　was　a　rusting　graveyard　under　the　waters　beneath　Black　Bridge：　tons　upon　tons　of　crushed　drums　and　rotting　husks；　choking　the　space　beneath　the　muddy　surface。　Most　had　long　since　popped　their　corks；　but　quite　a　few　were　still　intact：　fifty…five…gallon　pockets　of　concentrated　death；　corroding　the　barrels　from　either　side　and　then　suppurating　into　the　slipstream。
　　Carcinogens　settled　in　its　silt；　drifting　lazily　on　their　way　to　the　river　and　the　sea：　mutagens　skinned　its　sluggish　surface；　quietly　rearranging　the　molecular　building　blocks　of　everything　they　touched。　Carp　and　hardier　garbage…eaters　slid　through　its　murky　currents：　gills　siphoning　oxygen；　stockpiling　pestilence。
　　Mindlessly　laying　their　eggs。
　　Black　Bridge　was　a　toxic　ground　zero；　an　industrial　Instant　Primordial　Stew。　Only　one　century　in　the　making；　and　already　as　rich　as　the　brew　from　which　all　life…as…we…know…it　sprang。　Across　the　country；　across　the　globe；　countless　thousands　just　like　it　lay　dormant　and　sleeping。
　　It　was　only　a　matter　of　time　before　the　next　wake…up　call。
　　At　3：27　that　morning；　it　came。
　　
　　〃BOMBS　AWAY！〃　Boonie　cried；　and　rolled　another　one　down　the　chute。
　　〃Bombs　away！〃　Drew　reiterated；　dropping　the　gate。　It　jutted　over　the　rail　like　a　stumpy　steel　diving　board。
　　A　cobalt…blue　fifty…five…gallon　drum　stenciled　DANGER　rumbled　down　the　slight　incline　of　the　truck　bed；　then　off　and　into　the　blackness　below。　There　was　a　beat　of　silence　as　gravity　took　over；　then　a　deep　wet　thwump　almost　musical　in　timbre　as