jefflong.yearzero-第64章

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　had　been　thrown　into　a　pit　of　lions。
　
　24
　The　Year　Zero　Hour
　
　SEPTEMBER
　Once　upon　a　time；　Joab　was　a　shepherd　from　Hebron。　Now　he　was　a　tree　climber。　Nathan　Lee　had　never　seen　a　man；　or　boy；　love　climbing　through　branches　so　much。　Probably　there　had　never　been　such　a　beautiful；　tall　tree　in　Hebron。　When　he　wasn't　scrambling　up　and　down　the　tree；　Joab　was　off　at　a　distance；　watching　it。　None　of　the　other　men　thought　Joab's　behavior　odd；　so　Nathan　Lee　dismissed　it。
　Then　one　morning；　high　in　the　tree；　he　saw　a　bluejay　struggling　in　a　spider　web　that　was　large　and　nearly　invisible。　Quick　as　a　monkey；　Joab　raced　up　the　limbs。　The　spider　web；　it　turned　out；　was　a　net　made　of　threads　from　his　robe。　Joab's　hand　gently　closed　over　the　frantic　bird；　and　he　descended　to　the　fire。
　By　this　time；　the　clones　were　all　aware　of　his　capture；　and　they　gathered　to　see。　There　was　some　discussion　about　its　color　and　size；　and　whether　it　was　good　enough。　Finally；　Lazarus　took　the　jay　from　Joab's　hands。　With　a　twist；　he　broke　the　bird's　neck。　Then　he　spread　its　blue　wings　wide　open　and　laid　the　bird　on　the　flames。
　Nathan　Lee　thought　they　meant　to　eat　the　bird。　But　men　began　swaying　and　mumbling。　One　cantor　sang　a　prayer。　The　Christians　bunched　together　and　prostrated　like　Muslims。　Men　filed　past；　holding　little　charms　in　the　smoke；　or　passed　their　fingers　through　the　heat　and　held　it　to　their　foreheads　or　eyes　or　hearts。　Others　watched　closely；　academically；　remarking　on　stages　of　the　bird's　incineration。
　That　was　the　first　of　the　burnt　sacrifices。
　　
　LOSALAMOS　WATCHEDthe　clones　in　awe。
　Thanks　to　the　plague；　the　city　had　already　bee　a　treasure　chest　of　the　exotic　and　beautiful。　One　of　the　Japanese　scientists　had　brought　the　originalSunflowers　by　Van　Gogh。　There　were　a　dozen　Charles　Russells　and　Frederic　Remingtons；　two　Paul　Klees；　a　carved　ivory　tower　from　the　Ming　period　which　required　a　magnifying　glass　to　see　all　its　dragons；　coin　collections；　private　libraries　of　signed；　first　edition　books；　framed　letters　written　by　Presidents；　African　masks；　several　Martian　meteorites；　a　Triceratops　skull；　and　more。
　Their　little　paradise　on　the　hill　had　drawn　precious　objects　to　it　like　a　magnet。　There　was　no　lack　of　supply：　soldiers　had　raided　empty　museums；　long…haul　truckers　had　brought　pawn；　mune　leaders　from　the　valley　bartered　urban　loot　for　food；　and　eleventh…hour　arrivals　like　Nathan　Lee　had　showed　up　at　the　gate　with　treasures　and　rare　talents　to　bribe　their　way　inside。　Last　winter；　a　troupe　of　Bolshoi　Ballet　dancers　had　been　granted　entrée。　The　Cowboy　Junkies　got　through　the　fence　when　their　lead　singer；　a　Canadian　beauty　named　Margo；　bewitched　the　guards　with　an　a　cappella　rendition　of　〃The　House　of　the　Rising　Sun。〃　The　list　went　on：　pianists；　painters；　the　Denver　symphony；　Hollywood　actors；　and　novelists　now　sheltered　here；　singing　for　their　supper。　Little　girls　learned　arabesques　from　some　of　the　greatest　ballerinas。　The　city　was　treated　to　opera；　exhibitions；　and　world　class　music。
　But　until　now　they　had　seen　nothing　like　the　clones。　Their　fascination　went　beyond　the　city's　hunger　for　news　that　was　not　bad；　or　for　a　secret　that　could　safely　be　told；　or　for　mere　entertainment。　It　resembled　the　voyeurism　of　their　plague　surfing；　but　was　something　else　entirely。　Watching　dams　crumble　and　cities　burn　and　plague　victims　transmitting　their　last　thoughts　from　basements　and　high…rise　holdouts　or　from　that　rope　village　in　the　redwoods　had　bee　predictable　and　mundane。　Satellites　occassionally　streaked　through　the　night　sky　like　fiery　meteorites。　Such　things　were　the　unmaking　of　a　world　they　had　helped　make。
　But　with　the　debut　of　Nathan　Lee's　time　travelers；　the　city　suddenly　gained　a　lost　world。　It　was　alien；　and　yet　oddly；　vaguely　familiar。　It　was　like　visiting　the　moon。
　The　Year　Zero　Hour　had　its　roots　in　a　bootleg　video　of　the　Lord's　Prayer　〃event〃　patched　together　at　home　by　one　of　the　Captain's　guards。　Copies　of　the　tape　were　passed　from　hand　to　hand；　one　puter　to　another。　Nathan　Lee　was　much　too　busy　to　pay　attention　to　the　growing　excitement。　Sensing　something　extraordinary；　the　Office　of　Public　Affairs　became　involved。　One　night　in　their　second　week　in　the　yard　of　the　sun；　the　clones　went　prime　time　on　the　city's　cable　network。　Nathan　Lee　was　startled　to　see　them　on　television。　The　boys　were　a　hit　and　didn't　even　know　it。
　It　was　an　odd　creature；　this　hour　of　jumpy；　edited　scenes　with　English　subtitles。　The　early　black…and…white　footage　looked　like　something　from　a　convenience　store　security　camera。　More　sophisticated　cameras　were　installed　on　the　yard's　walls；　more　sound　dishes。　The　production　quality　jumped　when　a　famous　Hollywood　director；　who　had　been　granted　safe　haven　within　Los　Alamos；　volunteered　his　services。　A　Mideastern　soundtrack　was　added　to　the　beginning　and　end　of　the　Hour。　There　was　no　narrator　to　guide　the　viewer；　no　segues　to　pull　the　pieces　together；　no　thread　to　follow；　just　clones　gossiping　in　a　dead　language　while　they　sat　around　a　fire　or　walked　in　circles。
　Each　held　faith　with　one　god　or　another。　Like　men　tugging　on　a　rope；　they　had　pulled　their　rituals　with　them　through　the　veil　of　time。　Besides　the　burnt　offerings；　they　made　charms　and　amulets　and　prayer　beads；　and　tied　red　twine　around　their　wrists　or　throats　or　draped　strings　over　one　shoulder。　A　few　tattooed　each　other's　faces　and　arms　with　charcoal　paste　and　a　nail。
　Izzy　came　up　with　the　idea　of　bringing　raw　materials　into　the　yard。　Soon　the　clones　were　making　sandals；　braiding　rope；　fashioning　lyres；　playing　flutes；　cooking；　running　a　small　bazaar；　hammering　copper；　making　jewelry；　drawing　graffiti　on　the　walls。　John　the　Second；　as　they　called　him；　the　shorter　one；　proved　to　be　quite　an　artist；　spending　day　after　day　on　a　big　picture　of　a　fishing　boat。
　　
　〃WHAT　HAVE　YOU　UNLEASHED？〃　Miranda　asked　Nathan　Lee　one　night。　They　were　in　the　Necro　Archives。　It　was　very　late。　She　had　begun　appearing　in　the　archives　more　often。Knock；　knock；　she　would　say。　Generally　it　was　near　midnight　when　the　hallways　were　empty　and　the　lab　was　quiet。
　Nathan　Lee　had　taken　to　eating　and　sleeping　in　the　archives　to　save　time。　Four　weeks　had　passed；　but　it　felt　like　four　months。　He　had　never　been　so　busy。　Here　among　the　bones；　he　raced　to　keep　up　with　their　resurrected　flesh　and　blood。　He　had　not　meant　to　get　caught　up　in　their　lives；　indeed　he　had　wanted　not　to。　This　was　supposed　to　be　a　way　of　passing　time；　of　outwaiting　Ochs　and　getting　on　with　his　journey；　nothing　more。　So　he　told　himself。
　He　did　everything　in　his　power　to　remain　true　to　Grace。　He　had　gotten　one　of　the　people　in　satellite　imagery　to　puter…enhance　his　muddy；　ruined　snapshot　of　her；　and　kept　the　result　in　a　frame　on　a　shelf　in　the　archives。　It　was　supposed　to　be　a　daily　reminder；　but　the　enhancement　had　altered　her　features　subtly；　turning　her　into　someone　he　no　longer　quite　recognized。　She　was　less　real　than　ever。　He　struggled　with　that。
　But　each　day　brought　him　deeper　into　the　world　of　Year　Zero。　Well　past　midnight　he　labored　over　his　notes　and　watched　tapes；　patching　together　kinship　charts；　weaving　strands　of　men's　stories；　hunting　for　clues。　Before　dawn；　Izzy　would　show　up　and　they　would　plot　the　ing　day's　strategy。
　Miranda　essentially　lived　in　the　building　now；　too。　The　virus　had　shifted　shape　again。　Over　the　past　two　years；　it　had　revved　up　to　a　killing　speed　of　twelve　days；　tearing　through　populations　like　a　shotgun　blast。　This　latest　strain　was　slower…moving；　though。　The　telltale　symptoms　of　glassy　skin　and　early　amnesia　didn't　manifest　for　a　week；　and　the　deadly　erosion　of　executive　function　in　the　brain　could　take　a　month。　This　was　good；　and　bad。　It　gave　the　illusion　of　maybe　burning　itself　out；　though　people　knew　better　than　to　believe　that。　But　the　virus　was　finally　beginning　to　act　more　normally；　at　least　for　a　virus。　That　suggested　the　first　stirrings　of　co…evolution。
　〃It　wants　to　tango；〃　Miranda　told　him。　〃Every　parasite　does。　They　want　a　dance　partner　who　shares　their　tempo；　a　host　to　co…evolve　with。　Man　and　Corfu　just　don't　seem　very　well　suited　for　each　other。　But　we　have　to　keep　trying。〃
　There　were　rumors　that　Miranda　was　on　to　somethi