jefflong.yearzero-第10章

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the　test　tubes　in　padded　mail　tubes　that　were　already　addressed　to　laboratories　in　Europe；　Israel；　and　South　Africa。　Nikos　took　the　tray　with　the　pieces　of　thedomo　and　the　opened　capsules　into　his　refrigerated　chamber。　He　arranged　the　dismembered　artifact　on　a　glass　shelf　alongside　the　rest　of　his　collection。　With　that　they　were　done。　Nikos　closed　the　panels　across　the　glass　chamber。
　The　Egyptian　felt　tired；　but　energized。　〃When　will　you　get　the　lab　results？〃　he　asked。
　〃Within　the　week；〃　said　Nikos。　〃I　am　a　favored　customer。〃
　〃You　must　tell　me　what　they　say。〃
　〃I　feel　good　about　this　one；〃　said　Nikos。　〃Perhaps　it's　just　the　pany　this　time。　But　I　sense　this　one　was　special。〃
　They　were　in　a　celebratory　mood。　〃Medea；〃　Nikos　called　out。　After　a　minute；　his　wife　appeared　at　the　doorway。　〃Bring　wine。　Join　us。〃
　She　and　the　Egyptian's　wife　returned　with　glasses　and　a　bottle　of　French　chardonnay。　Nikos　pulled　the　cork；　poured　the　glasses；　kissed　his　beautiful　wife。　He　felt　grand。
　They　raised　their　glasses　in　toast。
　〃To　the　mysteries　of　life；〃　Nikos　said　simply。
　He　had　never　contemplated　the　term　〃extinction　event。〃　As　he　drank　his　fine　wine；　it　would　have　been　inconceivable　to　him　that　he　had　just　opened　the　door　upon　the　end　of　mankind。
　2
　Genesis
　
　MT。　DESERTISLAND；　MAINE
　APRIL
　Save　us；　Father；Miranda　prayed　to　the　black　winter　sea。
　Waves　crashed　against　the　cliffs。　Rime　snaked　around　her　L。L。　Bean　boots；　then　slithered　back　into　the　depths。　The　teenager　shivered　and　went　on　searching　for　the　light；　in　special　need　of　it　this　morning。
　A　million　miles　away；　a　narrow　gap　opened　on　the　edge　of　infinity。　Dawn　was　ing。　She　was　not　superstitious；　but　Miranda　took　hope。　Perhaps　they　would　not　kill　her　monster。
　Heartened；　she　turned　from　the　cliffside　and　quickly　crossed　the　overlook's　parking　lot　and　Crooked　Road。　Except　for　her　Schwinn　ten…speed　chained　to　a　pole；　the　place　was　empty。　The　summer　tourists　were　long　gone。　The　ice　age　had　arrived：　spring　in　Maine。
　Miranda　started　up　a　steep　path　between　pines　and　scrub　oak　plastered　by　nor'easters。　Her　pale　breath　leaked　among　the　bare　branches。　It　was　like　something　out　of　a　fairytale。　She　looked　back　and　her　footsteps　in　the　frost　were　her　only　friend。
　She　moved　swiftly；　faster　than　a　walk；　not　quite　a　run。　When　she　had　first　begun　the　daily　visitations　to　the　quarry；　the　trail　took　forty　painful　minutes。　Now；　after　three　months　of　twice…a…days；　she　could　knock　it　down　in　fourteen　flat。　Her　long　legs　had　sprouted　calves　and　thighs。　Maybe　she　was　going　to　outgrow　the　stick　body　after　all。　She　was　starting　to　get　looks　from　some　of　the　guys。　Mating　looks。　As　if　she　had　spare　time。
　The　sky　bleached　grey。　She　reached　the　quarry　and　went　directly　to　its　edge。　Once　upon　a　time　men　had　cleaved　the　black　granite　from　this　hole　for　bank　buildings；　libraries；　and　national　monuments。　Today；　filled　with　a　century　of　water；　it　had　returned　to　nature。　〃Winston？〃　she　called。　A　pane　of　ice　sheathed　the　pond's　surface。　There　was　not　a　motion　down　there；　not　a　sound　except　for　her　own　forlorn　voice　echoing　back　up。
　Local　legend　told　of　a　broken…hearted　town　girl　casting　herself　Mayan…like　into　the　granite　cenote。　Her　ghost　was　said　to　haunt　the　waters。　True　or　not；　the　quarry　was　deserted。　High　school　lovers　didn't　visit。　There　were　no　Saturday　night　keggers；　no　skinny…dipping。　For　153　days　now；　the　place　had　belonged　to　her　and　little　Winston。　Only　at　last　evening's　feeding　had　Miranda　noticed　the　tire　marks　on　the　old　fire　road　and　fresh　footprints　in　the　frozen　mud；　a　lot　of　them。
　The　shock　had　still　not　worn　off。　They　had　found　her　out。You've　killed　him；　she　despaired　to　herself。
　Since　the　age　of　four；　Miranda　had　been　disciplined　to　expect　better　of　herself；　no　resting。　Her　tutors　had　been　carefully　screened　and　highly　specialized。　At　her　father's　instruction；　they　inhabited　her　days；　serving　as　mentors；　never　nannies；　never　friends。　No　one　ever　told　her　to　slow　down；　kick　back；　smell　the　roses。　It　was　known　that　she　would　peak　young。　Miranda　had　read　the　literature；　talked　to　shrinks；　eavesdropped　on　the　Mensa　chat　rooms。　Genius　of　her　freakish　degree　burned　bright　and　fast。　She　fell　into　that　same　peculiar　realm　of　the　extraordinarily　beautiful；　striking　awe　into　plete　strangers。　The　difference　was　that　Miranda　saw　no　beauty　in　her　mirror；　only　the　dark；　bruised　circles　under　her　eyes　from　insomnia。
　It　felt　like　exile　in　this　northern　light；　but　she　was　far　from　all　alone。　Jax；　as　the　Jackson　Laboratory　was　known；　employed　nearly　a　thousand　people　year　round。　But　island　life　got　notoriously　edgy　once　winter　set　in。　The　suicide　rate　and　wife　abuse　rose　with　the　gas　bills。　She　felt　caged　among　postdoc　fellows　who　treated　her　like　a　little　sister；　jailbait；　or　a　rade　in　their　own　weirdness。　Town　kids　her　own　age　seemed　alien。　She　could　explain　string　theory；　but　not　freak…dance　or　snowboard　or　apply　mascara。　It　wasn't　for　lack　of　trying。　With　ruthless　precision；　she　had　speed…readCosmo　andTalk；　gotten　pierced　and　cornbraided；　and　memorized　the　cultural　hot　buttons。　But　none　of　it　took。　The　pop　lyrics　made　no　sense　to　her；　the　clothes　didn't　fit。　Surfing　for　soul　mates；　she　found　only　repetitious　e…sex。　She　knew　how　to　open　a　human　cell　and　tease　out　the　secrets　of　life；　but　strangely　not　how　to　live　it。
　Now　that　they'd　discovered　Winston；　there　was　going　to　be　a　storm　of　psychobabble　about　the　line　between　brilliance　and　alienation。　As　a　girl；　she'd　gotten　used　to　having　no　privacy　except　the　inside　of　her　mind；　with　even　that　up　for　grabs。　When　she　was　nine；　she'd　discovered　them　monitoring　her　keyboard　strokes　on　the　puter。　At　ten；　she　cracked　the　safe　holding　her　med　and　psych　records；　and　it　was　like　reading　the　biography　of　an　inmate。
　Winston　was　her　first　real　act　of　rebellion。　She'd　thought　she　was　being　so　careful。　But　they　had　her　now；　and　him。
　Miranda　lowered　herself　down　a　giant's　staircase　of　cut　ledges　to　the　water's　edge。　She　took　three　bundles　of　raw　fish　wrapped　in　newspaper　from　her　daypack。　He　should　have　appeared　by　now。　It　was　6：30。　He　knew　this　ledge。　Together　they'd　bee　creatures　of　habit。Where　are　you；　baby？
　For　a　moment；　she　feared　they　might　have　taken　him　away　already。　Another　thought　occurred。　Maybe　Winston's　physiology　had　kicked　in。　She　was　still　unsure　which　of　his　physiologies　ruled；　but　it　was　possible　he'd　begun　hibernating。　If　that　was　the　case；　short　of　draining　the　quarry；　they　wouldn't　catch　him　before　spring。
　Miranda　was　no　swimmer；　much　less　a　diver；　but　she'd　visited　his　watery　nest　in　her　imagination。　It　would　be　a　hole　with　a　cozy　shelf　and　its　own　air　pocket；　and　fish　bones　and　his　little　hoard　of　things。　Ever　since　lugging　Winston　here　in　a　five…gallon　plastic　bucket；　she　had　noticed　what　an　avid　collector　he　was。　He　gathered　heaps　of　bright　pebbles　on　different　ledges　by　the　pond's　edge。　He　herded　together　the　red　and　yellow　oak　leaves　that　floated　on　the　surface　like　a　whaling　fleet；　then　separated　them　by　color。　She　liked　to　think　his　nest　was　furnished　with　all　kinds　of　salvage　from　the　bottom　sediment；　Coke　bottles　and　beer　cans　and　rusted　stonecutter's　tools。　Maybe　he'd　found　the　skull　of　that　poor　girl　and　carried　it　to　his　nest　as　a　sweetheart。
　The　sun　nudged　higher。　Pencil　points　of　light　pierced　the　forest　screen。　The　sheath　of　ice　began　to　skin　open；　vaporizing　into　cold　white　steam。　〃Winston？〃　she　pleaded　to　the　water。
　〃Don't　tell　me　you've　named　the　thing。〃
　The　voice　came　down　to　her　from　the　forest。
　Her　heart　gave　a　leap。　It　had　throw　weight；　that　voice；　and　the　majestic　pacing　of　a　Shakespearean　actor。　In　many　ways　Paul　Abbot　was　an　actor。　Besides　playing　kingmaker　to　scientists　and　sorcerer　to　politicians；　he　performed　a　bit　role　as　her　father。　Not　one　of　his　best　performances。
　She　turned。　He　was　standing　on　the　upper　rim。　His　Burberry　was　unbuttoned。　It　hung　like　a　cloak　from　his　broad　shoulders。　He　looked　leonine。　There　was　no　telling　how　long　he'd　been　waiting　in　the　shadows。　He　was　not　out　of　breath。　There　was　no　mud　on　his　tweed　slacks。　That　meant　he　had　not　taken　the　trail。　They　must　have　unlocked　the　gate　and　driven　him　up　the　old　fire　road。
　〃