js&cs.thebridge-第16章

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　know　it　yet。
　　The　whine　peaks。　Rack　in　and　focus。
　　Then　jerk　back；　as　the　truck　explodes　through　the　branches；　letting　off　a　shrapnel　shockwave　hailstorm　of　splinters　that　soar　in　every　direction。
　　Try　to　track　as　the　blasted　Dodge　with　the　busted…out　windshield　and　a　shadow　at　the　wheel　bounces　and　hits　the　ground　running；　rocks　and　slides　and　never　gives　an　inch　as　it　hits　the　cop　cruiser；　spinning　it　a　neat　two　hundred　and　seventy　degrees　to　smash　into　the　embankment；　sending　Kirk　diving　for　cover　as　it　hurtles　past；　jangling　in　and　out　of　frame　but　always　ing　right　at　the　camera。
　　Scream　in　exhilaration　as　the　truck　bears　down　mercilessly；　knowing　that　this　is　the　footage　of　a　lifetime；　living　for　the　spectacle　captured　in　the　camera's　eye。
　　Then　scream　again；　for　entirely　different　reasons。
　　As　the　truck　devours　the　frame。
　　
　　The　last　thing　Kirk　remembered　clearly　was　the　front　grille；　enormous；　bearing　down　on　him。　He　dove　and　rolled　badly；　ate　a　faceful　of　mud；　and　came　up　in　a　puddle；　barely　conscious。　There　was　wind　and　noise　and　adrenaline　and　the　scattered　impressionist　jumblefuck　memory　of　Mike：　standing　ass…out　in　the　wind；　cowboy　style；　nailing　the　shot　like　today　was　a　dream　and　there　was　no　tomorrow。
　　Then　the　truck　rolled　over　him。
　　And　the　dream　went　away　。。。
　　
　　Silence。
　　Kirk　opened　his　eyes。
　　The　sky　above　was　brackish；　overcast。　He　ached　as　if　he'd　sprained　every　moving　part　in　his　body。　Gilt…backed　dark　clouds　taunted；　egging　him　on。
　　He'd　been　out　for　a　few　minutes。　Time　enough　to　change　lives。
　　And　to　end　them。
　　〃Mike。〃　Memory；　snapping　back　like　a　wet　towel　to　smack　him　in　the　ass。　〃Oh　God；　Mike　。。。　〃　Piecing　together　the　dream。　He　got　up；　felt　his　stomach　lurch　with　the　one…eighty　spin　of　his　head；　and　then　turned。　Scrambling　over　to　his　cameraman　friend。　Or　what　was　left　of　him。
　　Kirk　had　never　been　good　with　words；　a　fact　that　had　steered　him　away　from　print　journalism　and　the　press。　Smushed　was　the　word　that　came　screaming　to　mind。　Unprofessional；　but　accurate。　Mike　was　smushed。
　　He　lay　embedded　in　a　deep　mud　truck…nit；　the　knobby　tire　pattern　running　lengthwise　over　his　body　and　right　over　his　face。　The　truck　weighed　several　angry　tons；　and　the　earth　had　given　as　much　as　it　could　before　accepting　him　into　its　embrace。
　　Then　it　had　been　Mike's　turn　to　give。
　　Kirk　puked　on　his　shoes；　it　was　up　and　out　before　he　knew　it。　Then　he　was　coughing；　coughing　and　crying；　coughing　up　stringers　of　coffee　and　crullers　and　bile　that　burned　like　the　tears　in　his　eyes。　He　sank　to　his　knees。　His　own　lenses　went　fuzzy；　soft　around　the　edges。　It　gave　him　a　certain　detachment；　for　as　long　as　the　tears　lasted。
　　But　it　didn't　change　the　facts；　bring　Mike　back　to　life　or　make　his　body　go　away。　He　just　lay　there；　his　old　wire…rim　aviator　glasses　pressed　into　his　face　like　a　cookie　cutter　in　clay。　One　dead　hand　stuck　up　from　the　rut；　bent　back　horribly；　fingers　pointing　as　if　to　say　they　went　thataway。
　　The　camcorder；　miraculously；　had　been　thrown　clear。
　　It　lay　just　beyond　the　grasp　of　Kirk's　ex…partner　in　crime。　Kirk　scrabbled　over　to　it；　found　it　battle…scarred　but　unbroken。　He　clutched　it　to　his　breast　as　the　last　sobs　wrenched　out　of　his　system。
　　The　truck　was　a　distant　roar　behind　him；　fading　fast。　Toad　Road　sprawled　out　before　him；　the　path　brutally　cleared　by　the　impact。　Mike　was　still　laying　there；　deader　than　ever。
　　Kirk　sat　back　on　his　haunches；　staring。
　　And；　with　terrible　clarity；　realized　exactly　what　he　had　to　do。
　　
　　
　　　Fourteen
　　　
　　The　little　Paradise　airport　in　southern　Chanceford　Township　was　to　Philadelphia　International　what　a　7…11　was　to　the　European　mon　Market。　Just　the　thought　of　flying　made　Gwen　acutely　queasy。　Of　course；　nausea　at　a　moment's　notice　had　proven　a　linchpin　of　the　Taylor　Family　Pregnancy；　right　from　the　beginning　。。。
　　〃Damn；〃　Gwen　cursed；　furious　with　herself。　She'd　just　spent　the　last　fifteen　minutes　semihysterically　sobbing　over　absolutely　nothing；　bullshit　that　only　vaguely　had　Gary's　face　attached。　It　was　like　making　a　Silly　Putty　imprint　of　Dick　Tracy's　face　off　the　Sunday　funnies；　stretching　it　to　actual　human　size；　and　then　saying；　〃SEE？　SEE　WHAT　YOU'VE　DONE？〃
　　She'd　heard　all　the　jokes　and　the　stats　that　suggested　she'd　e　to　resent　him。　Fuck　them。　Had　his　body　ballooned　to　grotesque　proportions？　Had　all　of　his　internal　organs　been　trash…pacted　to　make　room　for　their　baby？　Did　he　have　to　pee　every　five　to　ten　minutes；　whether　he　made　it　to　the　bathroom　or　not？
　　Of　course　not。　But　that　wasn't　the　point。　She　didn't　want　him　to　squeeze　a　bowling　ball　out　his　butt；　or　pull　his　bottom　lip　over　the　top　of　his　head　in　symbolic　solidarity。
　　She　didn't　want　him　to　suffer　as　no　man　had　ever　suffered　before。　At　least　not　most　of　the　time。
　　No。　Her　needs　were　very　simple。　She　just　wanted　to　be　loved　and　supported　and　blah　blah　blah　by　the　man　of　her　dreams；　who　really　was　Gary；　God　bless　him；　no　matter　what　Micki　or　her　mother　or　anyone　said。　It　was　hard　to　believe　he　put　up　with　her；　what　with　her　mood　swings　and　her　irrationality　and　her　HIDEOUS　BLOATED　ELEPHANTINE　BODY　THAT　NOBODY　IN　THEIR　RIGHT　MIND　COULD　POSSIBLY　DESIRE　and　her　other　little　insecurities；　not　the　least　of　which　had　to　do　with　her　ability　to　be　a　decent　wife　and　mother。
　　Which　of　course　brought　her　back　to　the　coffee　incident…a　stupid　nonevent　if　ever　there'd　been　one…and　before　she　knew　it　she　was　blubbering　all　over　the　dashboard　again。
　　So　she　was　more　grateful　than　words　could　say　when　Micki　came　through　the　double…glass　exit　doors。　Grateful　that　her　friend　had　taken　it　upon　herself　to　travel　all　this　way。　Grateful　to　have　such　a　friend　at　all。
　　She　felt　better　at　the　very　sight　of　her。　Gwen　quick…wiped　her　eyes　and　checked　herself　in　the　rear…view。　Like　shit；　she　thought。　Definitely　look　like　shit。
　　〃Look　at　you；　Mama！〃　Micki　called　to　her　as　she　laboriously　lowered　herself　from　the　cab。　〃You　look　fabulous！〃
　　〃Look　who's　talkin！〃　Gwen　called　back；　assessing　the　well…fed；　well…dressed；　absolutely　robust…looking　figure　that　approached　her；　bags　in　hand。　Hard　to　believe　that　this　was　the　same　old　Micki　Bridges。
　　Hard　to　believe　that　this　was　the　woman　who'd　been　given　less　than　six　months　to　live；　a　little　over　five　years　ago。
　　〃You　look　great！〃　Micki　reiterated；　closing　the　distance。
　　〃Bullshit。　You　look　great！〃
　　〃Bullshit；　you　。。。　！〃
　　And　then　they　were　laughing　and　embracing；　thrilled　to　be　in　one　another's　presence　once　again：　celebrating　the　one　true　friendship　that　had　lasted　them　all　their　lives。
　　〃So；〃　Micki　said　as　they　disengaged。　〃Where's　hubby？〃
　　〃He　got　called　in　to　work；〃　Gwen　said。
　　〃Oh。〃　Very　dryly。　〃What　a　surprise。〃
　　And　that；　of　course；　was　where　the　same　old　crap　started　up　all　over　again。
　　
　　The　main　bone　of　contention　between　them　had　always　hinged　on　their　tastes　in　men。　From　grade　school　on；　those　tastes　had　been　both　clearly　defined　and　mutually　exclusive。
　　Gwen　favored　earthy；　grounded；　extremely　physical　men：　guys　who　worked　with　heavy　machinery；　played　football；　rode　big　bikes；　went　white…water　rafting；　and　knocked　back　Buds　with　a　J。D。　chaser。　She　liked　men　with　big　hands；　steady　jobs；　and　massive；　sinewy；　bull…shaped　bodies；　men　with　fierce　loyalties；　fiery　passions；　and　healthy　appetites　that　she　could　trust　would　be　brought　home　to　her；　day　after　day　after　day。
　　Micki；　on　the　other　hand；　did　not　like　to　be　physically　overpowered　or　remotely　dependent。　Not　even　in　potentia。　Her　men　were　ropier；　substantially　shorter；　more　flighty　and　esoteric。　She　ate　up　musicians　like　truffles；　especially　sax　players。　Give　her　a　Juzo　Itami　film　festival；　a　little　Frank　Zappa　and　Baba　Ram　Dass；　good　Chablis；　great　conversation；　double　chocolate　Haagen…Dazs；　and　serious　head　for　an　hour；　you　could　then　gift…wrap　her　and　take　her　home。
　　But　rarely　for　more　than　a　week。
　　And　so　it　was　that　Gwen　wound　up　with　a　Harley…riding　engineer　eight　years　her　senior；　whom　she'd　lived　with　for　four　years　and　been　married　to　going　on　three；　and　with　whom　she　was　having　the　child　of　their　dreams。
　　And　Micki　wound　up　with　a　forty…thousand…year…old　spirit　entity　as　her　permanent　life…partner　and　male　panion。　Not　to　mention　a　handful　of　lovers　on　the　side。
　　Not　surprisingly；　Micki　and　Gwen　had　serious　problems　with　each　other's　picks；　though；　much　to　their　credit；　Gary　and　Bob…Ramtha　got　along　better　than　most　of　the　guys　they'd　introduced　to　each　other。　All　in　all；　it　was　the　most　absurd　aspect　of　their　relationship。
　　Because；　in　virtually　every　other　respect；　they　loved　and　admired　each　other　to　pieces。　Micki；　por　ejemplo；　was　smitten　with　Gwen's　emotional　honesty；　her　bone…deep　passion　and　sheer　innate　goodness；　her　automatic　and　essentially　unconditional　love　of　other　people。　Most　people　had　to　work　very　hard　for　the　kind　of　spirit　that　came　to　Gwen　naturally；　and　Micki　was　convinced　that　she　would　make　absolutely　the　best　mother　in　the　world。
　　Gwen；　conversely；　was　in　awe　of　Micki's　balls…out　courage；　in　everything　from　battling　her　cancer　to　standing　by　（and　profiting　from！）　her　unorthodox　lifestyle　decisions。　Gwen　thought　that；　with　the　possible　exception　of　Gary；　Micki　Bridges　was　the　strongest　person　she'd　ever　met。
　　In　fact；　as　Gwen　often　pointed　out；　Micki　and　Gary　were　an　awful　lot　alike。　They　both　insisted　on　living　life　entirely　on　their　own　terms。　Not　that　they　were　hard　to　get　along　with；　but　on　that　one　point；　they　were　utterly　inflexible。　You　could　not　persuade　them　to　violate　their　natures；　there　wasn't　enough　money　in　the　world　to　make　them　run　against　their　own　grains。
　　Which　was　probably　why　they　didn't　get　along。　They　were　just　too　goddam　similar。
　　〃I　don't　know　about　that；〃　Micki　said；　the　surprisingly　warm　highway　air　tousling　her　hair　through　the　moving　truck's　open　window。　〃But　I'll　tell　you　this。　I　didn't　e　all　the　way　out　here　to　sit　around　watching　football。〃
　　Gwen　laughed；　her　angst…sopping　mood　abolished。　〃Okay。　So　whaddaya　wanna　do？〃
　　〃I　was　thinking　。。。　〃　Drawing　the　pause　out　dramatically；　skrinching　her　hazel　eyes。　〃　。。。　since　it's　such　a　nice　day；　we　might　want　to　get　a　little；　you　know　。。。　lost　。。。　on　the　way　back。〃
　　Gwen　smiled　slyly。　〃You　knew　I　made　sandwiches；　didn't　you？〃
　　〃You're　awfully　predictable。〃
　　〃And　only　you　would　drag　a　pregnant　woman　who's　ready　to　burst　out　into　the　middle　of　nowhere。〃
　　〃You　mean　I'm　predictable；　too？〃　Micki　made　a　horror…stricken　g…force　face　and　they　laughed。　The　conspiracy　was　ripe。　Micki　got　serious　first。
　　〃You　sure　you're　gonna　be　okay？〃　she　asked。
　　〃Oh；　yeah；〃　Gwen　said。　〃I'm　a　tough　old　broad。〃
　　〃Okay。〃　Micki　braced　her　feet　against　the　dashboard。　〃Sam　Lewis？〃　she　asked。
　　〃Sam　Lewis；〃　Gwen　answered；　without　a　moment's　hesitation。
　　〃Let's　do　it。〃
　　〃Weeee…HA！〃　Gwen　hooted；　stomping　down　on　the　gas；　as　they　motored　down　old　Route　624　toward　Sam　Lewis　State　Park；　and　the　river　that　unwound　like　a　serpent　below。
　　
　　
　　　Fifteen
　　　
　　And　this　was　how　the　cookie　crumbled：
　　Blake　was　at　the　sautee　table　at　the　Lincoln　Woods　buffet　when　his　beeper　went　off。　He　ju