js&cs.thebridge-第46章

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e　hell　are　you？〃
　　〃I　can't　tell　you；〃　he　said。　Hiss　clung　to　his　words　like　sargasso。
　　〃Don't　play　games　with　me！〃　Laura　said。　〃Get　your　butt　back　in　here；　now！〃
　　〃I'll　be　back　soon；〃　he　said；　his　voice　distant。　〃Trust　me。　I'm　on　to　something。〃
　　〃KIRK！〃　Laura　yelled。　〃E　BACK　IN　HERE　RIGHT　NOW！　KIRK！　YOU'RE　FIRED！　KIRK！〃　The　noise　put　an　echoing　trail　on　her　words；　mocking　her。　〃KIRK　。。。　！〃
　　But　there　was　no　answer　from　the　other　side。　Just　the　rippling　echoes　in　the　alien　wall　of　noise。
　　
　　Kirk　switched　the　radio　off；　his　bowels　turned　suddenly　to　water　and　slush。　〃I　didn't　hear　that　last　part；〃　he　said　to　himself。　〃The　transmission　broke　up；　and　I　couldn't　make　it　out。〃
　　He　figured　if　he　said　it　another　hundred　times　or　so；　it　would　start　to　sound　like　the　truth。
　　But　the　fact　was；　he　had　heard　it。　YOU'RE　FIRED。　Just　two　little　words；　but　they　changed　everything。　YOU'RE　FIRED。　It　was　amazing；　astonishing　just　how　thoroughly　they　had　clipped　his　strings；　sucked　the　fire　from　his　guts　and　the　wind　from　his　sails。
　　Suddenly；　everything　he'd　done…from　the　day　he　entered　broadcast　school　to　the　moment　at　hand…was　ashes。　Cinders。　Confetti　in　flames。　There　was　nothing　he　could　do　to　salvage　his　career　now。　He　had　taken　the　gamble；　and　lost。
　　Big　time。
　　The　pain　began　to　penetrate　the　protective　cold　that　his　mind　had　thrown　up。　Pictures　of　the　future　began　to　unveil　themselves；　unbidden。　He　could　imagine　the　look　on　his　old　man's　face　when　word　of　this　got　out。　He　could　imagine　the　way　this　would　play　on　the　industry　dirtline。　He　tried　to　imagine　ever　getting　a　job　in　broadcast　media　again；　but　that　picture；　for　some　reason；　just　wouldn't　e　clear。
　　〃I'm　dead。〃　The　voice　barely　registered　as　his　own。　〃I'm　dead。〃　Staring　into　his　rearview　mirror。　The　face　that　stared　back　at　him　was　a　frightening　grayish…white。
　　〃Oh；　man；〃　he　whimpered；　slumping　across　the　steering　wheel　with　his　crisscrossed　arms　shielding　his　forehead。　〃What　the　fuck　am　I　gonna　do　now？〃
　　
　　Kirk　was　not　the　only　one　in　the　grip　of　despair。　Back　at　'PAL；　Gary　sat　trapped　at　the　editing　console；　dialing　and　redialing　his　house。　For　roughly　the　fiftieth　time；　he　got　a　little　recorded　voice；　droning　〃　。。。　all　of　our　circuits　are　temporarily　busy。　Please　try　。。。　〃
　　〃　。。。　your　call　again　later；　yeah；　yeah。　Shit！〃　he　muttered。　He　slammed　the　phone　into　the　cradle。　Somewhere　up　stairs；　he　could　hear　a　telephone　ringing；　ringing；　ringing。
　　〃HANG　UP！〃　he　bellowed。
　　It　stopped。　Gary　huffed　in　pained　relief。　Before　he　could　relish　the　silence；　the　phone　rang　again。　It　had　been　this　way　for　almost　an　hour；　an　endless　upward　spiral　of　fear　and　frustration。
　　Gary　picked　up　the　handset　and　punched　in　the　number　again。　He　didn't　know　what　else　to　do。　There　was　nothing　else　to　do。
　　When　the　prerecorded　operator's　voice　came　on　the　line；　he　nearly　punched　a　hole　straight　through　the　wall。
　　
　　And　at　911；　things　were　getting　worse　by　the　minute。
　　Dottie　Hamm　had　drained　the　last　of　her　Big　Gulp。
　　The　straw　rasped　against　the　bottom；　probing　for　stray　droplets　of　lukewarm　Coke。　She　was　down　to　her　last　Munchkin。　It　was　beginning　to　look　like　she'd　never　get　any　again。　Nor　would　she　ever　get　to　eat　lunch。　In　fact；　she　hadn't　been　able　to　leave　her　seat　to　so　much　as　pee　for　the　last　three　hours。
　　Dottie　cast　an　anxious　glance　at　Dave；　who　shrugged　and　rolled　his　eyes　as　his　call　screen　lit　up　once　again。　The　calls　that　had　started　as　a　trickle　were　now　a　flash　flood　of　near　record…breaking　weirdness。
　　Because　the　voices　that　clogged　the　lines　were　panic…voices；　frantically　spitting　out　tales　of　fear　and　delirium。
　　Worse　yet；　the　callers　Dottie　checked　out　on　her　video　monitor　didn't　display　mile…long　rap　sheets　of　crankdom。
　　These　were　not　your　chronic　paranoid　freaks。　Most　of　them；　before　today；　had　never　dialed　911　in　their　lives。
　　They　were　just　folks：　ordinary　citizens　calling　in　to　say　their　trees　were　singing；　saying　their　gardens　had　attacked　them；　or　their　dogs　or　kids　had　gone　out　to　play　and　not　e　back。
　　Dottie　was　stumped。　They　were　just　folks。　And　they　were　scared。　Dottie　didn't　blame　them　one　bit。　She　knew　a　few　things　they　didn't。
　　And　she　was　getting　a　little　scared　herself。
　　Because　it　wasn't　every　day　that　you　called　in　police　from　Hellam　Township　and　Paradise　County；　two　fire　panies　and　HazMat；　and　have　every　single　one　of　them　disappear；　now　was　it？
　　It　vexed　her。　One　by　one；　she　called　them　in。　One　by　one；　they　dropped　right　off　the　map。　She　checked　the　lines　again。　The　signal　path　down　to　Hellam　was　a　wall　of　white　noise；　nothing　was　ing　from　within　ten　miles　of　Black　Bridge；　on　any　frequency。
　　It's　like　the　Bermuda　Triangle　popped　up　right　in　our　own　backyard；　she　mused。
　　And　damn　if　it　wasn't　spreading。
　　〃Shame　on　you；　Dottie；〃　she　scolded。　She　looked　at　the　list　of　people　to　call　in　the　event　of　just　such　an　emergency。　Her　bladder　felt　like　a　overfull　water　balloon；　ripe　and　ready　to　burst。　She　punched　in　the　number；　and　waited。
　　This　call　was　definitely　a　first。
　　She　hoped　to　heaven　it　would　be　the　last。
　　
　　
　　　Thirty…Two
　　　
　　〃Ah…hah　。。。　Yes；　I　see　。。。　Yes；　that　is　very　strange。〃
　　Blake；　still　holed　up　in　his　study；　paced　and　spoke　softly　into　the　phone。　〃Have　you　notified　anyone　else？〃
　　Blake's　brow　furrowed　with　concern；　as　every　name　punched　another　hole　in　an　already　leaky　boat。　〃Hmm；〃　he　said。　〃And　HazMat　did　what？　Ah…hah。〃
　　His　headache　was　back；　a　whanging　pulse　in　the　top　of　his　skull。　〃Yes；　I'll　get　right　on　it；〃　he　said；　fighting　every　urge　to　lash　out。　He　grasped　the　heavy　obsidian　glass　paperweight　that　graced　the　corner　of　his　desk　and　squeezed　as　hard　as　he　could。
　　〃Yes；〃　he　said；　as　crisp；　angled　edges　cut　into　soft　finger　skin　and　the　pain　in　his　hand　beat　back　the　pain　in　his　head。　〃Good　job；　Dottie。〃　He　smiled　thinly。　〃Keep　me　up…to…the…minute；　will　you？　Thanks　so　much。〃
　　Blake　rang　off　and　let　go　of　the　paperweight　in　a　simultaneous　release　of　stress。　A　smear　of　blood　slicked　its　surface。
　　〃Shit。〃　Blake　hissed；　pulling　out　his　handkerchief。　He'd　cut　himself；　alright；　a　thin　laceration　on　the　inside　of　the　knuckle　line。　His　handshake　hand；　his　deal…sealing　hand。　But　his　headache　had　abated。　For　now。
　　He　wrapped　the　hanky　around　the　cut　and　paced：　thinking；　thinking。
　　This　was　bad。　Correction：　this　was　beyond　bad。　This　was　a　nightmare。　With　Dottie's　report　of　foul…smelling　water；　isolated　dementia　and　blight　ringing　in　his　ears；　he　became　increasingly　convinced　that　some　sort　of　hallucinogenic　substance　was　involved　in　this　chemical　spill。
　　It　was　a　horrifying　thought；　but　he　could　think　of　no　other　explanation。　For　his　part；　it　would　be　nothing　but　bottled　water　and　spirits　for　the　duration。
　　Meanwhile；　the　odds　on　containment　grew　skimpier　by　the　second。　While　there　was　still　time　to　be　bought；　Blake　continued　to　plug　holes；　he　sat　down　at　his　desk；　flipped　through　his　little　oak　Rolodex　until　he　came　to　Huntington；　Tom。　He　punched　in　the　number　and　waited。
　　Busy。
　　〃Shit！〃　he　spat。　He　hit　the　redial　button。
　　Busy。
　　Blake　cursed　again　and　fed　the　number　into　the　auto…dialer；　punched　send。　As　the　phone　worked；　Blake　gazed　pensively　at　his　surroundings。　He　could　feel　his　window　of　opportunity　narrowing；　and　his　tastefully　appointed　digs　were　feeling　more　prisonlike　by　the　second。
　　Finally；　the　phone　caught；　chiming　a　melodious　little　brrrr　。。。　brrrr　。。。　brrrr　。。。
　　〃Answer　the　phone；　dammit；〃　Werner　said　into　the　mouthpiece。　Then；　〃Tom？　Werner　Blake。　How　are　you；　old　man？〃　Reptile…smiling。　〃Great。　Listen；　I　just　wanted　to　call　and　keep　you　apprised　of　a　situation　mat's　developed。〃
　　Blake　opened　up　his　hand；　studying　the　Rorschach…pattern　of　blood　staining　the　white　linen　hanky。　〃Well；　nothing　too　serious；　we　hope；　but　we're　still　scoping　it　out　。。。　〃
　　He　nodded　his　head；　the　picture　of　corporate　concern。　〃Of　course。　But　handled　wrong；　this　could　impact　adversely　on　mutual　friends。　We'd　like　to　treat　this　with　some　sensitivity；　not　start　a　flap　over　nothing　。。。　〃　Nod；　nod。
　　One　down；　he　thought。　Tom　Huntington　was　no