js&cs.thebridge-第9章

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　　A　slo…mo　close…up　of　the　burning　bag　appeared　on　the　screen；　smoke　wafting　up　as　a　foot　came　down　to　stomp　it。　It　froze　and　held。
　　〃Awesome；〃　Mike　grinned；　mostly　to　himself。　Kirk　looked　at　Laura　expectantly。
　　〃Well？〃　he　said；　beaming。　〃What　do　you　think？〃
　　Laura　took　a　deep　breath；　exhaled　wearily。
　　〃Give　me　a　minute　to　recover；〃　she　said。
　　Laura　Jensen　was　a　tough；　cool；　petent　woman　in　her　middle　thirties。　She　was　dark…eyed；　slim；　and　elegantly　restrained。　She　was　also　smarter　than　almost　everyone　she　knew；　a　simple　fact　that　simultaneously　shaped　both　her　conscience　and　her　cynicism。
　　The　eldest　daughter　of　New　England　liberal　Democratic　professionals；　Laura　had　graduated　top　of　every　class　she　ever　joined；　from　kindergarten　through　University　of　Atlanta。　Her　last　job…with　an　Atlanta…based　CBS　affiliate…had　ended　when　her　husband's　job　transfer　had　brought　them　north　to　the　outbacks　of　Pennsylvania。
　　Laura　had　taken　the　change　in　grudging　stride；　mitigating　the　culture　shock　by　parlaying　it　into　an　upward　move　in　a　lateral　market。　Weekend　news　director　was　a　rung　up　the　ladder；　and　she　wanted　to　make　the　most　of　it。
　　She　was　ready　for　controversy；　hell；　she　lusted　for　it。　But　this　。。。
　　〃Words　fail　me；〃　she　said；　resisting　the　urge　to　simply　eviscerate　him。　〃First；　I　don't　think　bags　of　flaming　shit　will　sit　well　with　Chris　or　Tom。　Or　our　audience。〃
　　〃Jesus；　get　real。〃　Kirk　countered；　standing　his　ground。　〃City　Council　was　in　session　for　a　fucking　week　over　dog　turds；　for　chrissakes！　Besides；〃　he　continued；　〃it's　not　even　real　shit。　We　soaked　some　rags　in　kerosene　。。。　〃
　　〃That's　not　the　point；〃　Laura　said　angrily。　〃We　are　a　news　department；　Kirk！　News！〃　She　drew　the　N…word　out　for　emphasis。　〃This　isn't　America's　Most　Wanted；　okay？　We　don't　do　reenactments！　Am　I　getting　through　to　you？〃
　　Laura　searched　Kirk's　features　for　a　glimmer　of　understanding。　Not　even。　It　was　gonna　be　one　of　those　days。　She　could　already　feel　a　headache　building；　the　kind　that　would　take　up　residence　behind　her　sinuses　and　wang　all　the　livelong　day。
　　The　kind　with　Kirk's　name　written　all　over　it。
　　Chris　Crowley；　the　genius　who'd　hired　Kirk；　was　off　weekends。　Chris　was　the　news　director；　and　her　immediate　boss；　answering　only　to　Tom　Huntington；　the　station　manager。　In　the　immediate　chain　of　mand；　that　left　Laura　in　charge　and；　hence；　Laura's　butt　on　the　firing　line。
　　Super；　she　thought。　Thanks；　Chris。　Thanks；　Tom。　And　thank　you；　Jesus。
　　〃Alright；　tighten　it　up；　and　lose　that　goddam　bag；〃　she　decided。　〃We'll　run　it　if　nothing　better　happens。〃
　　Kirk　took　the　biscuit　badly。　Aw；　thought　Laura；　pressing　on。　〃What　else　have　you　got？〃
　　The　image　blinked　out　on　the　monitor。
　　〃Uh…oh；〃　Mike　said。　〃Looks　like　brunch。〃
　　〃Oh；　shit！〃　Kirk　wailed　as　the　Beta　deck；　in　its　infinite　wisdom；　gobbled　his　reenactment。　〃Shit；　shit；　shit！　Can　you　fix　it？〃
　　Mike　shrugged；　hit　〃eject。〃　It　groaned　and　locked　up　tight。　He　poked　the　cartridge　with　his　pen；　tried　to　jiggle　it　free；　to　no　avail。　It　was　jammed；　tape　bunching　into　the　heads　like　an　Escher　ribbon。
　　〃Nope；〃　he　said。　〃I　told　you；　man；　these　decks　are　hammered　by　the　time　they　make　it　down　here。　There　must　be　fifteen　thousand　hours　on　the　heads。　They're　ready　for　the　tar　pit。〃
　　〃Let's　go　to　Two；〃　Laura　suggested；　rising　from　her　seat。
　　〃Two's　down；〃　Kirk　said；　frustrated。
　　Mike　nodded。　〃Maintenance。〃
　　〃Great；〃　she　muttered；　then　turned　to　Mike。　〃Call　Bob　and　tell　him　to　get　someone　down　here；　ASAP！〃
　　Mike　got　up　to　make　the　call；　squeezing　past　Kirk　and　out　the　door。　It　left　Kirk　and　Laura　unfortably　close　to　one　another。　She　stood　and　went　to　press　past　him；　and　he　grabbed　her　shoulder。
　　〃Let　go　of　me；〃　she　said。　A　static　charge　of　electricity　sparked　between　them。　Their　eyes　met　and　held；　defiance　and　denial　slam…dancing　in　the　airspace　between　them。　He　disengaged　pointedly；　hands　up　in　a　gesture　of　ersatz　supplication。
　　〃So；　fine；〃　he　said；　pouting。　〃You　didn't　like　it。〃
　　She　made　a　terse　what　can　I　say？　gesture。　〃I　didn't　like　the　bullshit　。。。　〃
　　〃Dog　shit；〃　he　corrected；　still　moping；　though　he　took　the　time　to　slip　a　little　bad…boy　twinkle　in　his　eye。
　　For　some　reason；　that　was　all　it　took　to　push　her　over　the　edge。
　　〃Listen！〃　she　snapped；　and　before　he　could　react；　she　was　bouncing　her　knuckles　off　the　top　of　his　skull。
　　〃Ow！〃　His　hands　came　up。　He　backed　off；　startled。
　　〃Hello！〃　she　called　out；　rapping　smartly　on　his　scalp　again。　〃Hello；　Mr。　Potato　Head！　Anybody　home　。。。　？〃
　　〃HEY！〃　This　time；　he　caught　her　hand　and　held　it。　〃DON'T　。。。　〃
　　〃Don't　what？〃　she　snarled。
　　He　stopped　in　his　tracks。　She　nailed　his　gaze。　He　let　go　of　her　hand。　She　drove　the　point　home。　Throughout　it　all；　their　eyes　never　left　each　other's。
　　〃Now　you　listen　to　me；〃　she　growled；　low　in　her　throat。　〃If　you　want　to　keep　your　job；　you　just　shut　up　and　listen。〃
　　She　paused　to　make　sure　he　got　the　message　this　time。　He　certainly　seemed　to。　His　eyeballs　were　huge。
　　〃You're　good；〃　she　continued。　〃And　everybody　knows　it。　You're　talent　is　not　the　problem　here。　But　if　you　want　to　be　taken　seriously；　you've　got　to　cut　the　kiddie　shit　and　bring　me　something　real　。。。　〃
　　〃Well；　fine；〃　he　spat；　defiant。　〃When　are　you　gonna　let　me　do　some　real　news？〃
　　〃When　you　learn　to　distinguish　your　ass　from　your　elbow。〃　She　hoped　that　the　words　were　as　cold　as　she　felt。　〃There's　a　whole　wide　world　of　real　news　out　there！　When　you　bring　me　some；　I'll　use　it。　Believe　me。〃
　　〃In　the　meantime；　why　don't　you　just　grow　the　hell　up。〃
　　Kirk's　gaze　faltered；　the　eyeball　war　was；　for　the　moment；　won。　She　wanted　to　rejoice；　but　alas；　there　was　still　no　joy　in　Mudville。　He　was　making　his　wounded　puppy　face。
　　And；　damn　her　heart；　she　felt　guilty　again。
　　Their　affair　was　one　of　'PAL's　worst…kept　secrets；　studboy…reporter　meets　married　boss…woman。　Film　at　eleven。　It　was　yet　another　piece　of　unfinished　business；　Laura　wondered　why　she'd　ever　started　it　more　often　than　she　liked　to　admit。
　　It　wasn't　just　the　age　difference；　or　the　point　spread　on　the　IQ　scale；　or　the　fact　that　he　plugged　some　of　the　holes　her　marriage　had　left　unfilled。　In　fact；　she　really　didn't　know　what　it　was。　They　certainly　didn't　respect　each　other。　She　thought　he　was　a　harbinger　of　doom　for　a　generation　weaned　on　style　over　content。　He　thought　she　was　a　tight…ass；　both　literally　and　figuratively。
　　The　first　time　they　fucked；　it　was　like　worlds　colliding。
　　And　every　time　since；　she　swore　it　would　be　the　last。
　　Here　in　the　station；　however；　Laura　held　her　ground。　No　retreat　in　battle。　Ever。　When　his　gaze　dragged　back　up　to　lock　with　hers；　she　was　more　than　prepared　to　fire　his　ass　if　she　had　to。
　　Then　the　police　scanner　went　off；　and　changed　their　lives　forever。
　　When　the　squad　car　came　up　against　the　first　downed　tree；　Officer　Hal　Thoman　was　forced　to　hump　the　last　leg　of　Toad　Road　on　foot。　All　the　while；　he　thought　of　Trina。　As　substitutions　went；　it　left　a　lot　to　be　desired。
　　Trina　was　the　hot　little　blonde　tending　the　night　counter　down　at　the　Mister　Krispy　donut　shop。　Only　twenty…two；　and　rumor　had　it　her　personal　hygiene　regimen　included　shaving　where　the　sun　don't　shine。　Now；　normally　Hal　hated　small…town　gossip…small…minded　people　who　knew　too　much　about　other　folks'　business　and　not　enough　to　mind　their　own…but　in　this　case；　he　had　to　admit　he　was　intrigued。
　　Their　paths　had　been　crossing　for　quite　some　time；　as　she　went　off　shift　and　he　came　on；　and　lately；　she'd　taken　to　lingering　way　past　quitting　time。　Hal　both　appreciated　and　drew　encouragement　from　this；　and　in　fact　just　this　morning　had　hit　Mister　Krispy　with　every　intention　of　asking　her　out。
　　Until；　of　course；　the　goddamned　call　came　in。
　　Now　he　was　slogging　through　puddles　and　mud　instead；　hot　on　the　trail　of　hardened；　squirrel…hunting　desperados。
　　Courtesy　of　Bernard　S。　Kleigel。
　　Goddammit；　it　ain't　right；　he　thought　as　he　rounded　the　bend；　his　cruiser　disappearing；　swallowed　by　woods。　The　whole　damn　county　knows　about　Bernie　Kleigel；　between　his　letters　to　the　editors　and　his　goddam　nine…one…ones。　If　ol'　Bernie　said　there　was　a　drug　war　in　the　forest；　Hal　figured　it　just　as　likely　he'd　find　Manuel　Noriega　duking　it　out　with　Bigfoot　in　the　grudge　match　of　the　century。
　　Hell；　even　if　he　found　the　alleged　perpetrators…most　likely　the　Hinds　boys；　Ralph　and　Jimmy　J。…Hal　wasn't　about　to　do　much　more　than　waggle　his　finger。　As　a　kid；　he'd　left　more　than　his　share　of　shell　casings　on　posted　land。　The　more　powerful　temptation　was　to　write　up　Bernie；　though　Hal　didn't　recall　any　specific　ordinance　prohibiting　people　from　making　flaming　buttholes　of　themselves。
　　Hal　climbed　the　rutted　grade　of　the　road；　his　sporty　orange　don't…shoot…me　vest　resplendent　over　his　uniform。　Storm　really　tore　the　woods　to　shit；　he　noted；　downed　limbs　and　broken　branches　were　everywhere。　He　put　his　trained　police　eye　to　work　by　itemizing　all　puddles　more　than　twenty　feet　long　or　twelve　across。　Strange；　but　there　were　fewer　of　them　the　closer　he　got　to　the　bridge。
　　In　fact；　in　the　short　span　ahead；　he　didn't　see　any　puddles　at　all。　It　was　like　the　ground　had　sucked　up　all　the　excess　moisture；　turning　the　road's　surface　into　something　soft　yet　not　quite　mud：　a　near…gelatinous　continuum　that　squished　and　gave　a　little　beneath　your　feet；　taking　the　imprint　of　your　shoe　without　ever　quite　breaking　its　skin　。。。
　　Hal　jumped；　a　wet　crackle　had　sounded　behind　him。　He　whirled　and　caught　the　last　glimpse　of　something　sliding　off　an　oak　tree's　face。　It　was　a　magazine…sized　hunk　of　bark；　and　when　it　fell；　it　left　a　gummy　underpatch　in　its　wake。
　　〃Son　of　a　bitch；〃　Hal　said。　His　vision　was　excellent；　but　he　was　starting　to　wonder　about　the　sights。　There　was　something　not　right　about　the　exposed　stretch　of　tree　skin。　It　made　him　want　to　do　a　quick　reality　check。
　　He　stepped　off　the　road；　and　realized　at　once　that　the　grass　felt　wrong。　The　blades　stuck　fast　to　his　soles；　but　when　he　peeled　loose；　with　a　scrinching　Velcro　sound；　they　held　their　roots。
　　Laying　flat　for　a　moment。
　　Then　slowly；　deliberately；　pulling　upright　again。
　　〃This　is　weird；〃　he　informed　himself。　He　stopped；　thought　about　it　for　a　second；　decided　that　he　was　right。　He　turned…scrinch；　scrunch…and　hunkered　down　on　his　haunches；　bringing　his　thumb　and　index　fingertips　together　around　a　solitary　blade　of　grass。
　　It　bit　him。
　　〃Yowch！〃　he　barked　out；　genuinely　surprised。　〃Goddamn！〃
　　He　checked　his　finger　for　cuts；　saw　only　a　pinprick　of　red；　veneered　by　a　tacky　glaze。
　　His　hand　began　to　tingle。
　　Hal　stood；　apprehensive；　and　his　gaze　shot　over　at　the　oak。　Now　he　could　see　what　was　wrong　with　this　picture。
　　Now　he　could　see　the　unnerving；　infinitesimal　array　of　undulating　grub…things；　burrowing　blind　through　the　punky；　fibrous　interior　。。。
　　I've　been　in　these　woods　a　thousand　times；　he　flashed；　but　I've　never　seen　nothing　like　this。　It　was　as　if　some　plague　had　fallen；　put　a　blight　on　the　trees　and　on　the　earth　itself。
　　He　looked　through　the　trees　to　the　bridge。
　　And；　for　the　first　time；　noticed　the　truck。
　　Hal　Thoman　felt　nothing　but　wrongnes