dk.coldfire-第42章
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She realized that she was in the grip of a fury not unlike that which seemed to motivate Jim Ironheart。 She remembered what he had said during their whispered conversation in row seventeen； when she had tried to bully him into saving not just the Dubroveks but everyone aboard Flight 246： 〃I hate death； people dying I hate it！〃 Some of the people he saved had quoted him making similar remarks； and Holly remembered what Viola Moreno had said about the deep and quiet sadness in him that perhaps grew out of being an orphan at the age of ten。 He quit teaching； walked away from his career； because Larry Kakonis's suicide had made all his effort and concern seem pointless。 That reaction at first appeared extreme to Holly； but now she understood it perfectly。
She felt the same urge to cast aside a mundane life and do something more meaningful； to crack the rule of fate； to wrench the very fabric of the universe into a shape other than what God seemed to prefer for it。
For a fragile moment； standing in that Iowa field with the wind blowing the stink of death to her； watching the rescue worker walk away with the little boy who had almost died； Holly felt closer to Jim Ironheart than she had ever been to another human being。
She went looking for him。
The scene around the broken DC…10 had bee more chaotic than it had been immediately after the crash。 Fire trucks had driven onto the plowed field。 Streams of rich white foam arced over the broken plane； frosted the fuselage in whipped…cream…like gobs； and damped the flames on the surrounding fuel…soaked earth。 Smoke still churned out of the midsection； plumed from every rent and shattered window； shifting to the whims of the wind； a black canopy spread over them and cast eerie； constantly changing shadows as it filtered the afternoon sunshine； raising in her mind the image of a grim kaleidoscope in which all the pieces of glass were either black or gray。 Rescue workers and paramedics swarmed over the wreckage； searching for survivors； and their numbers were so unequal to the awesome task that some of the more fortunate passengers pitched in to help。 Other passengers…some so untouched by the experience that they appeared freshly showered and dressed； others filthy and disheveled stood alone or in small groups； waiting for the minibuses that would take them to the Dubuque terminal； chattering nervously or stunned into silence。 The only things threading the crash scene together and providing it with some coherence were the static…filled voices crackling on shortwave radios and walkie…talkies。
Though Holly was searching for Jim Ironheart； she found instead a young woman in a yellow shirtwaist dress。 The stranger was in her early twenties； slender； auburn…haired； with a porcelain face； and though uninjured she badly needed help。 She was standing back from the still…smoking rear section of the airliner； shouting a name over and over again： 〃Kenny！ Kenny！ Kenny！〃 She had shouted it so often that her voice was hoarse。
Holly put a hand on the woman's shoulder and said； 〃Who is he？〃 The stranger's eyes were the precise blue of wisteria…and glazed。
〃Have you seen Kenny？〃 〃Who is he； dear？〃 〃My husband。〃
〃What does he look like？〃 Dazed； she said； 〃We were on our honeymoon。〃
〃I'll help you look for him。〃
〃No。〃
〃e on； kid； it'll be all right。〃
〃I don't want to look for him；〃 the woman said； allowing Holly to turn her away from the plane and lead her toward the ambulances。 〃I don't want to see him。 Not the way he'll be。 All dead。 All broken up and burned and dead。〃
They walked together through the soft； tilled earth； where a new crop would be planted in late winter and sprout up green and tender in the spring； by which time all signs of death would have been eradicated and nature's illusion of life…everlasting restored。
Something was happening to Holly。 A fundamental change was taking place in her。 She didn't understand what it was yet； didn't know what it would mean or how different a person she would be when it was plete； but she was aware of profound movement in the bedrock of her heart； her mind。
Because her inner world was in such turmoil； she had no spare energy to cope with the outer world； so she placidly followed the standard post…crash program with her fellow passengers。
She was impressed by the web of emotional； psychological； and practical support provided to survivors of Flight 246。 Dubuque's medical and civil defense munity…which obviously had planned for such an emergency …responded swiftly and effectively。 In addition psychologists； counselors； ministers； priests； and a rabbi were available to the uninjured passengers within minutes of their arrival at the terminal。 A large VIP lounge…with mahogany tables and fortable chairs upholstered in nubby blue fabric …had been set aside for their use； ten or twelve telephone lines sequestered from normal airport operations； and nurses provided to monitor them for signs of delayed shock。
United's employees were especially solicitous； assisting with local over night acmodations and new travel arrangements； as quickly as possible reuniting the uninjured with friends or relatives who had been transported to various hospitals； and passionately conveying word of loved ones' deaths。 Their horror and grief seemed as deep as that of the passengers； and they were shaken and remorseful that such a thing could happen with one of their planes。 Holly saw a young woman in a United jacket turn suddenly and leave the room in tears； and all the others； men and women alike； were pale and shaky。 She found herself wanting to console them； put an arm around them and tell them that even the best…built and best…maintained machines were doomed to fail sooner or later because human knowledge was imperfect and darkness was loose in the world。
Courage； dignity； and passion were so universally in evidence under such trying circumstances that Holly was dismayed by the full…scale arrival of the media。 She knew that dignity； at least； would be an early victim of their assault。 To be fair； they were only doing their job； the problems and pressures of which she knew too well。 But the percentage of reporters who could perform their work properly was no greater than the percentage of plumbers who were petent or the percentage of carpenters who could miter a doorframe perfectly every time。 The difference was that unfeeling； inept； or downright hostile reporters could cause their subjects considerable embarrassment and； in some cases； malign the innocent and permanently damage reputations； which was a lot worse than a backed…up drain or mismatched pieces of wood molding。
The whole spectrum of TV； radio； and print journalists swarmed into the airport and soon penetrated even those areas where their presence was normally restricted。 Some were respectful of the survivors' emotional and mental condition； but most of them badgered the United employees about 〃responsibility〃 and 〃moral obligation；〃 or hounded the survivors to reveal their innermost fears and relive the recent horror for the delectation of news consumers。 Though Holly knew the drill and was expert at fending them off； she was asked the same question half a dozen times by four different reporters within fifteen minutes： 〃How did you feel？〃 How did you feel when you heard it might be a crash landing？ How did you feel when you thought you were going to die？ How did you feel when you saw that some of those around you had died？ Finally； cornered near a large observation window that looked out on arriving and departing flights； she blew up at an eager and expensively coiffured CNN reporter named Anlock； who simply could not understand that she was unflattered by his attentions。 〃Ask me what I saw； or ask me what I think；〃 she told him。 〃Ask me who； what； where； why； and how； but for God's sake don't ask me how I feel； because if you're a human being you've got to know how I feel。 If you have any empathy at all for the human condition； you've got to know。〃
Anlock and his cameraman tried to back off； move on to other prey。
She was aware that most of the people in the crowded room had turned to see what the motion was about； but she didn't care。 She was not go
