js&cs.thebridge-第50章

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had　a　mouthful　of　wet　washrags。　As　blessings　went；　they　were　pretty　skimpy；　but　he　took　what　he　could　get。
　　A　stiff　bitter　gale　wind　blew　off　the　river；　whipping　the　mountain　ruthlessly　on　its　way　to　the　firestorm。　Thick　strands　of　twisted　steel　whickered　and　thrummed　like　so　many　old　rubber　bands。　And　Kirk　took　every　snap　personally。
　　PEMA　evacuation　manuals　and　a　walkie…talkie　sat　bunched　on　his　good　leg。　He　pored　over　them；　trying　to　get　a　basic　grasp　of　the　material。　The　battered　action…cam　was　perched　on　a　tripod；　lens　aimed　at　his　head；　on　the　workbench；　a　test　monitor　faced　him；　already　generating　bars　and　tone。
　　〃Ow；　shit！〃　he　muttered　as　the　radio　transceiver　slipped　off　his　lap　and　thudded　onto　the　floor。　He　struggled　painfully　to　scoop　it　up。　〃Are　you　sure　we　can　do　this？〃
　　〃Don't　know。〃　Gary　shrugged　and　unreeled　more　coaxial　cable。　〃The　station　went　down　because　the　micro　wave　only　runs　at　thirteen　gigawatts；　and　this　soot　could　block　out　a　bottom…feeder　like　that；　no　problem。〃
　　〃But　the　transmitter's　still　hot；　which　ain't　bad。　And　if　this　thing　breaks　the　storm　ceiling〃…he　gestured　to　the　tower　overhead…〃I　think　we'll　be　in　business。〃
　　Gary　finished　splicing　an　end　on　the　cable　with　his　knife。　He　hunched　down　behind　the　monitor；　laboring　fiercely；　the　clock　in　his　head　banging　away　as　he　tightened　the　cable　down。
　　〃Okay；〃　he　said。　〃Here　goes　nothing。〃
　　The　screen　glitched；　and　Kirk's　face　came　up：　bloody；　bruised；　and　badly　lit。　〃Jesus；〃　he　gasped。　〃I　took　like　shit。〃　He　grabbed　the　tail　of　his　shirt；　tried　to　wipe　off　some　of　the　dried　blood　from　his　forehead　gash。　Gary　moved　around　the　monitor　as　Kirk　struggled　to　his　feet。
　　〃Okay；　listen　up；〃　Gary　said；　concentrating　on　the　work　at　hand。　〃Basically；　you're　set。　I　rigged　this　so　that　you　just　hit　'record'　and　you're　on　the　air。　Think　you　can　handle　it？〃
　　Kirk　nodded；　Gary　took　it　as　gospel。　Kirk　hobbled　around；　checking　the　wiring　and　the　only　available　light；　a　jerry…rigged　clip…on　spot　with　a　hundred…watt　bulb　in　it。　He　clicked　it　on；　its　glow　seemed　feeble　against　the　encroaching　dark。　Hard　to　believe　it　was　only　three…thirty　in　the　afternoon。
　　Outside；　the　wind　hammered　on　the　corrugated　metal　walls；　making　them　sound　both　sharp　and　flimsy。　Cables　whipped　the　air　high　above　their　heads。
　　〃You　do　understand；〃　Gary　said；　〃that　as　of　now；　I'm　out　of　here。〃
　　〃Uh…huh；〃　Kirk　said；　busily　repositioning　the　light。
　　〃And　when　I　leave；〃　Gary　continued；　〃you're　effectively　stranded。〃　He　chose　his　words　carefully；　there　was　no　way　to　skirt　the　naked　truth；　〃I　can't　be　ing　back　for　you。〃
　　It　felt　like　he　was　sentencing　Kirk　to　death；　and　though　a　half　hour　ago　that　would　have　seemed　like　a　great　idea；　Gary's　blood　lust　had　long　since　been　spent。　He　half…expected　Kirk　to　back　down　now；　half…hoped　that　he　was　right。
　　But　Kirk　only　cocked　his　head　quizzically；　a　strange　calm　ing　over　his　face。
　　〃You　don't　understand；〃　he　said。　〃I'm　not　going　anywhere。〃
　　〃I'm　serious　。。。　〃
　　〃So　am　I。〃　Kirk's　look　was　direct；　and　utterly　clear。　〃I'm　gonna　ride　this　out　from　here；　man。　Don't　worry　about　me。〃
　　Gary　took　a　good　hard　look　at　Kirk；　as　if　seeing　him　through　new　eyes。　Or　maybe　it　was　Kirk　who'd　changed；　grown　up　somehow。　Kinda　hard　to　say。　〃Last　chance　。。。　〃　he　began；　scarcely　believing　his　own　ears。　Kirk　flipped　him　a　wink；　with　just　a　flicker　of　wince。
　　〃What？〃　he　said。　〃And　give　up　showbiz？〃
　　Gary　rolled　his　eyes；　and　Kirk　hobbled　toward　him；　making　for　his　seat。　Gary　came　over　and　helped　him　onto　the　chair。　There　was　nothing　left　to　say。　It　didn't　matter　to　Kirk　if　he　lived　another　twenty　years　or　another　twenty　minutes；　just　so　long　as　they　got　this　last　broadcast　on　the　air。　It　was　something　he　had　to　do…the　best　thing　he　could　possibly　do；　under　the　circumstances。
　　And　that　was　really　all　there　was　to　it。
　　Across　the　valley；　more　storage　vessels　went　up　at　Paradise　Waste；　feeding　fresh　waves　of　deathlight　and　sound　into　the　serpentine　pillar　of　flame。　The　rumbling　wind　reached　out　for　them　across　thirteen　miles；　slammed　the　walls　of　the　shed　like　an　angry　fist。　Glass　cracked；　from　a　pane　high　overhead。　The　two　men　flinched；　but　nothing　followed。
　　Then　Kirk　turned　his　attention　back　to　the　camera；　and　Gary　nodded　once　before　turning　to　open　the　door。　For　a　moment；　the　roar　of　the　world　filled　the　shed；　and　Kirk　could　see　him　hesitate；　for　one　long　second's　time；　before　stepping　out　into　evernight。
　　And　closing　the　door　behind　him。
　　Kirk　held　off　for　a　minute；　listening　to　the　girders　that　creaked　overhead　while　he　waited　for　the　Harley　to　fire。　When　it　did；　he　sighed　relief；　listening　almost　wistfully　to　the　echoing　sounds　of　its　departure。
　　Only　when　it　was　lost　in　that　howling　sea　of　sound　did　he　turn　back　to　the　camera；　take　a　deep　breath；　and　hit　〃record。〃
　　The　red　light　winked　on。
　　And　the　real　show…The　Kirk　Bogarde　Show…went　on　the　air　at　last。
　　
　　
　　　Fifty…Eight
　　　
　　Down　in　the　newsroom；　Laura　had　established　a　ritual　all　her　own。　She；　too；　had　locked　herself　in；　padlocking　the　front　double　doors；　sealing　every　conceivable　entrance；　holing　herself　up　in　the　basement。　Holding　down　the　fort。
　　And　praying　that　the　cavalry　would　e。
　　Outside；　things　were　moving；　she　could　hear　the　thuds　and　screams；　the　shrieking　sirens；　the　distant　and　not…so…distant　report　of　explosions　and　gunfire。
　　Worse；　she　could　hear　the　other　sounds；　like　nothing　she'd　ever　heard　before；　grinding　and　slithering　and　slashing　and　withering　everything　in　their　paths。　She　winced　as　what　sounded　like　a　pickup　truck　roared　by；　followed　seconds　later　by　something　that　whistled　and　whined　like　a　hundred　dentists'　drills　grinding　into　a　whole　roomful　of　teeth。　They　screeched　around　the　er；　off　King　Street　and　onto　Market；　and　blazed　away。
　　The　crash；　when　it　came；　was　dull　and　wet；　and　seemed　to　last　forever。
　　Laura　blocked　it　out　and　pressed　on：　checking　the　scanners；　checking　the　monitors；　checking　the　phones；　over　and　over　and　over。　At　the　head　of　each　cycle　she　spent　a　solid　minute　on　the　radio；　trying　to　raise　the　tower。
　　As　rituals　went　it　was　short　on　style　and　long　on　utility；　but　it　helped　her　keep　her　sanity。
　　〃WPAL　to　tower；　this　is　WPAL　calling　tower；　do　you　copy？　Kirk；　do　you　copy？〃
　　There　was　no　response。
　　〃This　is　WPAL；　calling　tower。　e　in；　please　。。。　〃
　　Nothing。
　　She　dropped　the　transceiver；　leaned　over　the　scanners　as　their　LED's　strobed　off；　one　by　one：　garbled　cries　being　garbled　hiss　being　nothing　but　garble　at　all；　the　lights　cycling　an　endless　flatline　of　silence。
　　Laura　looked　up：　the　monitors　displayed　an　electronic　winter　wonderland　of　snow　and　static　and　white　white　noise。　The　newsroom　was　barren。　Desolate。　Irrelevant。
　　She　picked　up　the　phone　and　hit　the　speed…dialer　for　home。　There　was　no　answer。　Of　course　no　one　was　there；　she　reasoned　to　herself。　How　could　they　be？　They're　in　Philly　at　the　game。
　　〃Please；〃　she　prayed　in　her　heart。　〃Please　let　them　be　safe。　Even　if　I　never　。。。　if　I　can't　。。。　if　。。。　〃
　　Something　inside　her　tore　loose　then；　like　a　flock　of　blackbirds　fluttering　inside　her　chest。　She　fought　like　hell　to　keep　it　down；　but　it　was　no　use：　the　fear　and　pain　and　panic　and　loss　burbled　up　like　Old　Faithful；　geysering　out　in　a　wave　of　tears　and　frustrated　rage。
　　〃Bastards！〃　she　muttered　in　anguish；　slamming　the　phone　down。　〃YOU　MISERABLE　FUCKING　BASTARDS！！〃
　　She　exploded　then；　grabbing　a　pile　of　rough　copy　that　no　one　would　ever　read　and　sending　it　sailing。　She　railed；　cursing　Blake　and　Leonard　and　Pusser；　the　Three　Stooges　of　the　Apocalypse；　for　the　greed　and　expedience　that　brought　this　on　。。。
　　〃IT'S　NOT　FAIR！〃　she　cried；
　　。。。　cursing　herself　for　not　getting　the　news　of　it　out　there；　for　not　ramming　it　down　people's　throats　while　she　still　had　a　chance　。。。
　　〃NOT　FUCKING　FAIR！！〃
　　。。。　cursing　everyone；　cursing　the　whole　miserable　stupid　world　for　letting　things　slide；　until　it　rolled　right　over　them　all。
　　Down　in　the　basement；　Laura　wept。
　　The　newsroom　absorbed　her　cries；　reflected　them　back　to　her。　Bad　enough　to　feel　these　things　at　all：　so　much　worse　still　to　feel　them　alone。　Her　anger　spent　itself　on　empty　air；　leaving　only　the　terror　in　its　wake。
　　〃Please；　God；〃　she　whispered；　her　voice　quivering　in　her　chest；　a　chill　sweat　prickling　her　scalp；　〃I'm　scared。　I'm　afraid　to　die　like　this。　I'm　。。。　〃
　　〃Please　。。。　〃　she　faltered；　unable　to　fully　voice　the　grief　and　guilt　and　regret。
　　And　Monitor　One　suddenly　hitched　and　came　to　life。
　　〃　。。。　This　is　Kirk　Bogarde；　uh；　live；　with　an　emergency　report　from　our　broadcast　tower　on　Mt。　Hope　。。。　〃
　　〃OH　GOD！〃　Laura　cried；　leaping　straight　out　of　her　chair　and　heading　for　the　monitor　as　if　he　were　there　in　the　flesh。　It　was　a　feeble　signal；　distorted；　but　it　was　there　like　a　lifeline；　a　single　candle　glowing　in　a　world　gone　dark。
　　〃SONOFABITCH！〃　she　cried；　tears　streaming　now。　〃YOU　MADE　IT！〃
　　Kirk　looked　like　hell；　his　hair　was　plastered　to　his　scalp　on　one　side　with　what　certainly　looked　like　blood；　and　the　light　source　cast　harsh　shadows　on　his　features；　making　him　as　gaunt　and　cadaverous　as　an　extra　from　the　lost　footage　of　Night　of　the　Living　Dead。
　　But　he　carried　himself；　she　realized。　He　was　there；　goddammit；　and　he　knew　it。
　　〃Reports　are　difficult　at　this　time；〃　Kirk　said；　〃but　our　most　up…to…the…minute　information　indicates　a　tremendous　explosion　at　the　Paradise　Waste　Disposal　facilities　in　North　Manchester　Township。　All　residents　are　advised　to　evacuate　the　area　immediately。　Repeat：　hundreds　feared　dead　at　an　explosion　at　Paradise　Waste　facilities　in　North　Manchester　Township。〃
　　〃YES！　DO　IT！〃　Laura　said　excitedly；　clapping　her　hands；　〃YES　YES　YES　。。。　〃
　　〃Authorities　are　unavailable　for　ment　at　present；〃　Kirk　said。　〃But　our　remendation　here　at　Channel　9　is　that　you　get　your　loved　ones　and　yourselves　the　hell　out　of　here。〃
　　He　leaned　into　the　camera。　〃And　that　goes　double　for　you；　Laura。〃
　　Laura　gasped。　On…screen；　something　fell　in　the　background。　Kirk　ignored　it；　went　back　to　his　stats。
　　〃The　evacuation　routes　are　as　follows；〃　he　said。　〃From　Windsor　Township；　take　Route　615　south　to　Fulton。　From　Upper　Darien；　take　the　Mifflinsburg　Pike　。。。　〃
　　And　then　suddenly；　the　lights　went　out。　There　was　a　pop。　The　monitors　went　dead。　The　overhead　fluorescents　sputtered　abruptly。
　　And　in　less　than　an　eyeblink；　the　room　went　black。
　　〃Ohgod　ohgod　。。。　〃　Laura　whispered；　clamping　down。　The　room　was　almost　totally　enshrouded；　its　sole　illumination　a　wan　blue　glow　ing　from　the　hall　door。
　　〃It's　okay；〃　she　told　the　shadows。　〃It's　just　a　blown　transformer；　or　a　downed　line；　or；　uh　。。。　or　。。。　〃
　　There　was　a　drinking　fountain　just　outside　the　door；　its　white　porcelain　gleaming。　As　she　watched；　the　spigot　suddenly　spritzed　to　life；　sending　a　little　arc　of　water　pooting　forth；　going　pucketa　pucketa　pucketa　pucketa　。。。
　　Upstairs　the　front　doors　wrenched　open；　the　sound　of　metal　ripping　like　paper；　followed　by　crowd　sounds；　of　many　many　things　ing　in　and　rooting　around；　casting　bizarre　shapes　against　the　solitary　shaft　of　light　that　filtered　in　from　the　head　of　the　stairs