jefflong.yearzero-第26章

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rdrops　of　food　were　suspended；　too；　because　it　was　decided　food　only　prolonged　the　suffering。　My　mother。。。。〃　She　stopped。
　My　daughter。Her　face　flashed　in　Nathan　Lee's　mind。　For　a　moment　he　imagined　her　as　part　of　this　wild　French　fantasy。　Immediately　he　rejected　the　notion。　It　was　very　simple。　In　his　heart　he　could　never　accept　such　a　thing。　His　daughter　had　sustained　him　through　his　hell。　He　would　sustain　her。
　A　tear　trickled　down　Monique's　face。　The　man　reached　to　hold　her　hand。　〃Our　loved　ones　are　freed　of　suffering；〃　he　said。　〃They　are　cleansed。　They　have　entered　the　stream。〃
　Nathan　Lee　listened　to　the　man's　twaddle；　and　a　switch　flipped　inside　him。　He　felt　anger。　They　were　feeding　him；　but　he　didn't　owe　them　his　gullibility。　They　were　deluded。　Their　story　was　self…fulfilling。　They　had　gone　on　a　pilgrimage　to　destroy　the　self　and　be　reborn；　and　so　their　whole　world　was　doing　it　with　them。
　〃And　so　the　plague　is　ing？〃　Nathan　Lee　said。
　〃From　the　south。　No　one　knows　when　it　will　arrive。　Weeks。　Months。〃
　〃But　why　are　people　walking　around　like　nothing's　happening？　Hasn't　anyone　told　them？〃
　〃They　know。　It　was　all　foretold。　But　where　would　they　go？〃
　Outside；　a　temple　bell　chimed。　A　cart　rumbled　by。　Nathan　Lee　finished　wolfing　down　his　rice。　He　felt　clarified　by　the　food　and　caffeine。　A　plan　was　ing　together　in　his　mind。
　〃What　about　you？〃　he　asked　them。
　Monique　regained　her　posure。　〃The　Lord　Buddha　teaches　us　to　have　a　clear　mind。　Our　place　is　here；〃　she　said。　〃The　present　era　is　over。　A　higher　species　will　evolve。　Gods　and　godesses　will　repopulate　the　mountaintops。　The　wheel　of　life　is　turning。〃
　Nathan　Lee　thanked　them　for　the　meal。　He　wished　them　well。
　〃Namaste；〃Monique　said　to　him。　I　bow　to　the　divine　in　you。
　Outside　the　restaurant；　Nathan　Lee　straddled　the　Frenchman's　mountain　bike　and　rode　off。　A　moan　of　joy　escaped　his　lips。　He　was　free。　He　was　going　to　see　his　daughter。
　
　7
　The　Bone　Lab
　
　LOSALAMOS
　NOVEMBER；　ONEWEEKLATER
　She　found　Miranda　alone　among　the　bones；　singing。　The　world　was　going　to　pieces。　The　borders　were　sealed。　The　plague　was　ing。　And　here　she　sang。　Golding　paused　in　the　doorway。　It　was　some　soft　sort　of　ballad；　maybe　very　old；　maybe　the　latest　tune；　and　Miranda　could　have　been　serenading　the　clutter　of　skulls　and　femurs　and　ribs。
　Golding　felt　her　heart　reach　out。　The　girl　looked　so　solitary　among　the　dead；　but　she　sounded　so　happy。　She　didn't　belong　here。　And　yet　so　much　depended　on　her　being　right　where　she　was。　Miranda　was　finally　letting　her　hair　grow　out。　Pale　red　strands　traced　across　the　mahogany　bones。
　〃Knock；　knock；〃　she　said。
　Miranda's　head　lifted。　〃Elise？〃　A　smile　lit　her　face；　no　pretence；　no　ulterior　motive。　Golding　had　not　felt　so　wele　in　a　long　time。　They　hugged；　and　Miranda　held　onto　her　the　extra；　golden　second。
　〃Am　I　interfering？〃
　〃I　was　just　getting　some　of　the　guys　pieced　together。　e　in。　You　can　help；　if　you　want。〃
　Golding　walked　among　the　tables；　and　every　bone　carried　a　small　bar…code　decal。　Some　lay　in　little　heaps　on　plastic　or　aluminum　trays。　Some　had　been　partially　articulated：　ribs　to　vertebrae；　mandibles　to　craniums。　Here　was　most　of　a　hand；　here　only　a　fingernail。　Several　nearly　pleted　skeletons　lay　in　a　long　line；　head　to　toe。　Many　of　the　bones　had　been　sawed　or　drilled。　There　were　hacksaws　on　the　wall；　even　a　meat　cleaver。
　〃It　took　quite　a　search　to　find　you；〃　said　Golding。　〃The　security　chief　for　your　building　finally　suggested　this　place。〃
　〃Captain　Enote？〃
　〃An　older　man。　An　Indian。　He　said　no　one　can　keep　up　with　you。〃
　〃The　Captain　frets　over　me；〃　laughed　Miranda。　〃Just　like　you　do。　What　brings　you　here？〃
　〃I　came　to　see　you。〃
　Miranda　was　politely　flattered；　then　said；　〃I　mean　Los　Alamos；　you　were　just　here　a　week　ago。〃
　〃I　came　to　see　you；〃　Golding　repeated　seriously。
　Miranda　lowered　her　eyes；　and　her　pleasure　made　Golding　feel　joyful　and　loved；　but　sad；　too。　This　beautiful　young　woman　meant　so　much　to　so　many　people。　They　liked　her。　It　was　stronger　than　that；　more　than　her　genius　that　drew　them。　They　believed　in　her。　Miranda　was　blind　to　it；　that　was　Miranda。　She　should　have　had　lovers；　and　Golding　was　pretty　sure　she　had　never　had　one。　She　should　have　had　girlfriends　and　jogging　partners　and　belonged　to　book　clubs。　She　should　have　been　making　group　raids　on　the　Santa　Fe　art　scene　and　breaking　boys'　hearts　and　talking　deep　talk　over　long　meals。　All　of　that。　But　she　was　alone。　Minus　her　father；　all　Miranda　had　for　family　was　a　frail　old　lady　who　showed　up　in　her　life　once　in　a　blue　moon。
　〃Is　everything　okay？〃　Miranda　asked。
　Everything　was　not　okay。　They　would　get　to　that；　slowly。　〃What　on　earth　are　you　doing　over　here？〃　Golding　asked。　〃The　Captain　said　this　is　your　latest　hangout。〃
　〃I　have　an　idea；〃　Miranda　confided。
　〃I'd　love　to　hear　it。〃
　〃All　right。　Just　give　me　a　minute。〃　She　tucked　a　strand　of　hair　behind　her　ear。　〃I　was　finishing　something。〃
　〃Take　your　time。　I　won't　touch　anything。〃
　〃Oh；〃　said　Miranda；　〃the　bones　are　safe。〃
　Golding　continued　her　stroll　along　the　aisles。　She　began　to　see　the　wounds。　Trauma　was　not　her　specialty；　but　the　marks　and　breaks　spoke　clearly。　Some　of　these　men　had　lived　violent；　brutal　lives。　You　could　see　where　fractures　had　healed　or　calcium　had　fused　over　nicks　and　cuts　on　the　bone。　More　glaring　were　the　injuries　that　had　not　healed。　Golding　looked　around　the　large　room。　These　men　from　Golgotha　had　died　horribly。
　She　knew　about　the　bones。　Everyone　did。　Visitors　had　pared　the　remains　to　the　aftermath　of　a　great　battle。　But　as　Golding　walked　about；　few　of　the　injuries　correlated　with　ancient　battle。　The　skulls　had　not　been　caved　in。　Neck　vertebrae　didn't　display　the　slice　marks　of　cut　throats　nor　the　chop　of　beheading。　Collarbones　were　not　cleaved　by　swords　or　axes。　She　had　read　that　preindustrial　warriors　monly　displayed　more　damage　to　their　left；　or　defensive　side；　yet　the　wounds　to　either　arm　were　random　and　few。
　The　unhealed　bone　injuries　were　almost　exclusively　lower　extremity。　Heel　bones　had　been　pierced　by　spikes。　Long　leg　bones　had　been　hacked；　snapped；　and　bent。　A　curious　wound；　one　scholars　hadn't　thought　of　before　this　discovery；　was　an　incision　across　the　front　of　the　knee。　Sever　the　patellar　tendon　and　you　got　the　same　result　as　breaking　a　man's　thighbone；　and　with　a　lot　less　effort。　How　terrible；　thought　Golding。　Death　on　Roman　and　Jewish　crosses　resulted　from　asphyxiation。　No　matter　their　agony；　these　men　had　struggled　hour　after　hour　to　push　themselves　upwards　to　breathe。　Surely　some　of　them　had　tried　to　hang　down　and　escape　into　death。　But　their　bodies　had　taken　over。　Life　could　be　such　a　stubborn　vegetable。
　Miranda　closed　a　drawer　and　came　over。　〃There　are　something　like　nine　thousand　bone　fragments　here。　I'm　still　getting　to　know　who's　who。〃
　〃You're　putting　them　all　together？〃
　Miranda　leaned　over　and　straightened　a　few　finger　bones。　〃People　wander　in　now　and　then。　It's　like　a　big　munity　jigsaw　puzzle　for　them。　They　fill　in　what　they　can。　Then　someone　else　es　and　fills　in　a　little　more。〃
　They　reached　a　set　of　metal　shelves。　It　was　a　small　museum　of　execution　tools：　a　rusted　hammer　head；　bent　nails；　plaques　of　〃keeper〃　wood　driven　over　the　foot　or　hand　to　keep　the　flesh　and　muscle　from　tearing　free。
　〃These　always　get　me；〃　Miranda　said。　She　picked　up　a　small　terracotta　ampoule　from　a　collection　of　thirty　or　forty。　〃Tear　vials。　Their　women　left　them　by　the　crosses。〃　She　laid　it　back　on　the　shelf。　〃I've　tried　scraping　for　a　sample。〃
　〃A　sample？〃
　〃You　know；　genetic。　Female。　All　I　get　is　salt。〃　Miranda　murmured；　〃sorrow。〃
　〃What　is　it　you're　looking　for？〃
　〃Same　thing　as　everybody　else。　Patient　Zero。〃
　Golding　didn't　have　to　ask　which　Patient　Zero。　No　one　even　paid　attention　to　the　lesser　contagions　anymore。　Doomsayers　were　predicting　Corfu　might　be　bigger　thanYersinia　pestis。　Little　did　they　know。　At　thirty…five　percent　mortality；　the　Black　Death　was　a　case　of　the　sniffles　pared　to　whatever　this　bug　was。
　〃Since　when　did　you　join　epidemics？〃
　〃Epidemics　kind　of　joined　me；〃　Miranda　answered。　〃Some　of　the　other　divisions　came　and　asked　if　I　could　help　with　different　aspects。〃
　〃I　don't　s