jefflong.yearzero-第77部分

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。　〃e　inside。〃
　〃Yes。〃　But　he　seemed　so　fragile。　He　was　shivering。　She　had　to　help　him　to　his　feet。
　They　descended　the　stairs。
　Up　and　down　the　hallways；　every　phone　was　ringing。　It　was　the　signal。　The　authorities　were　reversing　the　911　emergency　call　system。　Every　phone　in　every　office　and　home　in　Los　Alamos　was　getting　the　same　recorded　message。
　The　exodus　was　beginning。
　She　went　into　an　office　and　picked　up　one　of　the　phones。　A　pleasant　voice　was　saying；　〃。。。to　your　designated　evacuation　depot。　This　is　not　a　test。　Please　go。。。。〃
　〃This　can't　be　real；〃　said　Miranda。　〃They've　just　incinerated　every　last　person　in　the　valley。〃
　Then　suddenly　shedid　understand。　The　generals'　words　came　back　to　her。When　the　time　es；　we　will　part　the　waters。　While　they　still　had　the　enemy　in　their　sights；　they　had　taken　their　shot。　Now　her　father　was　ready　for　them。
　〃I　have　to　go；〃　said　the　Captain。　〃My　wife。。。。〃
　〃Of　course；〃　she　said。
　Miranda　advanced　down　the　hallway　in　a　daze。　There　was　no　panic。　Doors　stood　open。　Scientists　were　quietly　shaking　hands　and　taking　last…minute　group　snapshots　by　their　bench　labs　and　cubicles。　They　calmly　hung　up　their　lab　jackets　and　safety　goggles；　and　walked　away。　She　could　read　their　thinking。　They　had　resisted　this　moment　for　years；　but　now　that　it　was　here；　they　were　relieved。　The　virus　hunt　would　continue；　but　more　reasonably；　in　safety；　with　time　on　their　side　for　a　change。
　A　man　patted　her　arm。　〃It　was　a　good　fight；〃　he　said。
　〃It's　not　over；〃　she　said。　〃Nothing's　changed。〃
　He　gave　her　a　funny　look；　and　hurried　off。
　She　went　outside　and　crossed　the　bridge　to　the　city。　It　was　one　in　the　morning。　The　streets　were　filling　with　people　bustling　home　to　their　families。　There　were　small　details　to　attend；　she　knew。　Some　had　decided　to　poison　their　pets；　others　to　free　them。　Through　windows　with　opened　curtains；　she　saw　people　making　their　beds；　straightening　pictures　on　the　wall；　looking　around　to　make　sure　all　was　neat。　They　left　their　Christmas　trees　and　electric　Hanukkah　candles　on。　They'd　packed　their　bags　long　ago。　There　was　no　need　to　say　goodbye　to　anyone。　They　would　all　be　seeing　each　other　down　below。　That　was　the　plan。　She　saw　people　locking　their　doors　for　the　last　time；　and　then；　unlocking　them。。。letting　go。
　The　snow　had　stopped。　The　sky　had　cleared。　It　was　chilly。　Pulled　from　sleep；　children　were　crying。　Block　by　block；　the　exodus　took　shape。　They　had　practiced　for　this　event　once　every　month　for　the　past　two　years。　The　shock　of　the　bomb　seemed　offset　by　the　shock　of　evacuation。　Their　faces　were　laced　with　fear　and　wonder。
　Miranda　felt　like　a　ghost　as　she　passed　through　their　lines。　Citizens　were　orderly；　if　excited。　The　air　was　freezing。　Under　their　parkas　and　fleece　jackets；　many　wore　vacation　clothes：　Hawaiian　print　shirts；　sun…dresses；　tank　tops；　blue　jeans。　The　carved…out　salt　chamber　beckoned　to　them　like　a　tropical　paradise。
　Each　had　their　〃tenner〃　in　hand　or　strapped　to　little　airline　carts；　or　in　backpacks；　the　ten　kilos　of　personal　possessions　which　every　man；　woman；　and　child　was　allowed　to　bring。　You　could　take　anything　at　all：　books；　software；　teddy　bears；　clean　socks。　Whiskey；　or　psychedelics。　Whatever　might　get　you　through　the　next　ten　or　twenty　or　forty　years　sealed　twenty…one　hundred　feet　inside　the　earth。　For　as　long　as　Miranda　had　been　here；　the　contents　of　one's　tenner　were　a　subject　of　conversation；　gossip；　even　jokes。　Your　choices　weren't　simply　a　matter　of　taste。　They　reflected　what　kind　of　human　being　you　were。　Grave　goods；　Nathan　Lee　had　called　them。　Relics　that　people　took　into　the　next　world。
　Each　neighborhood　and　mesa　finger　had　its　own　boarding　sites。　The　passengers　waited　politely　for　their　transportation；　stamping　in　the　cold。　The　clear　mountain　air　was　fouled　by　diesel　fumes　as　sixteen…and　eighteen…wheelers　backed　up　to　the　docks。　The　trailers　were　sheathed　in　triple…layers　of　black　quarter…inch　rubber　membrane　normally　used　for　roofing。　Every　rivet　was　epoxy　sealed。　The　cabs　were　armored　against　guerrilla　attacks；　the　windshields　bullet…proofed。　The　drivers　wore　moon　suits。　The　vehicles　looked　more　like　submarines　than　Peterbilts。
　Straps　hung　from　the　ceiling　like　meat　hooks。　There　were　no　windows；　no　seats；　no　snack　bars。　It　was　going　to　be　standing　room　only　for　the　next　twelve　or　twenty　or　thirty　hours。　Soldiers　piled　their　tenners　in　growing　mountains　to　one　side。
　At　one　depot　after　another；　people　called　out　to　Miranda。　〃You　can　e　in　our　truck；〃　they　offered。　Everyone　wanted　her　with　them。
　〃I'm　staying；〃　she　said。
　They　were　appalled。　〃But　you　can't。　It's　too　late　for　that。〃
　〃It's　just　beginning；〃　she　assured　them。　She　didn't　ask　anyone　to　stay。　They　were　afraid。　The　bomb　had　spoken　to　their　mortality。　So　far　Miranda　had　heard　no　one　speak　about　it　out　loud；　the　holocaust　her　father　had　unleashed。　You　could　see　it　in　their　eyes；　though。　This　was　final。　No　atheists　in　the　foxholes；　she　thought。　All　the　brave　talk　of　drawing　a　line　in　the　sand；　holding　the　fort；　making　a　stand。。。gone。　She　didn't　blame　them。　They　simply　hadn't　known　their　hearts　before。　Now　they　did。
　A　woman　approached　her。　〃How　can　we　leave　you？　e　with　us；〃　she　said。　〃Think　about　it。　You'll　be　all　alone。〃
　Miranda　smiled。　That　surprised　her。　She　could　smile。
　〃We'll　remember　you；〃　the　woman　said；　backing　away。
　〃Thank　you；〃　said　Miranda。
　Several　times　she　overheard　Nathan　Lee's　name。　They　linked　her　to　him　and　watched　her　pass　among　them　with　pitying　eyes。　In　their　minds　she　was　the　tragic　widow。Is　that　all　this　is？　she　asked　herself。　Aromantic　suicide？　She　rejected　her　doubt。　It　was　more。　It　had　to　be。　Her　grand　idea　had　e　to　envelop　her。　She　had　set　it　in　motion；　and　now　she'd　bee　its　passenger。　It　was　carrying　her　along。　But　also　it　wasn't　carrying　her　at　all。　She　had　already　reached　her　destination。
　Every　light　in　every　room　and　along　every　street　had　been　left　on。　It　was　as　if　the　city　wanted　to　guarantee　that　not　even　a　shadow　might　be　left　behind。　The　bright　lights　made　it　hard　to　see　any　constellations　between　the　clouds。　They　wanted　one　last　taste　of　the　stars。　When　the　clouds　parted　to　show　Mars；　a　great　cheer　went　up。　Every　child　was　raised　on　shoulders　to　memorize　the　sight。
　Quickly；　within　a　half　hour；　the　convoy　was　loaded。
　The　earthmovers　set　off　first　to　clean　the　blistered　highways　of　debris。　There　would　be　no　snow　down　in　the　valley；　Miranda　realized。　The　bomb　would　have　melted　every　trace　of　it　for　miles。　There　would　be　minimal　to　zero　damage　to　the　highway　itself；　no　blast　crater。　It　would　be　more　like　the　aftermath　of　a　typhoon。　The　generals　knew　their　business。
　Gunships　pounced　up；　flanking　the　vanguard。　At　last　the　hundreds　of　trucks　started　to　unwind　from　Los　Alamos；　one　behind　another；　ing　together　into　a　single　black　snake　that　glided　off　into　the　depths。　As　she　started　back　to　Alpha　Lab；　the　convoy　passed　her　going　the　opposite　direction。
　It　took　less　than　an　hour　to　empty　the　city。　Silence　rushed　in。　She　watched　from　the　doorway　and　Los　Alamos　looked　like　a　kingdom　of　ice；　motionless；　its　radiance　sharp　and　clean。　After　a　while；　the　dogs　started　barking　to　each　other。
　　
　MIRANDA　WAS　NOT　QUITE　SUREwhat　came　next；　and　so　she　decided　to　make　herself　a　cup　of　hot　chocolate。　She　didn't　particularly　like　hot　chocolate。　But　she　felt　cold；　and　it　was　a　wintry　night。　Hot　chocolate　sounded　nice。
　As　she　made　her　way　through　the　building；　the　lab　was　alive。　puter　screens　glowed　in　darkened　rooms。　Machinery　hummed。　The　smell　of　burned　coffee　and　microwave　popcorn　drifted　through　the　air　ducts。　The　PCR　robots　were　still　at　work；　automatically　stamping　out　more　and　more　copies　of　DNA　fragments。　A　centrifuge　was　whirling　a　blood　sample　in　infinite　orbit。　This　was　her　inheritance。
　Descending　to　C　floor；　she　went　to　the　small　kitchenette　and　put　a　pot　of　water　on　the　oven　plate。　She　rooted　through　the　cabinet　and　found　the　packets　of　chocolate；　and　took　her　time　cleaning　a　mug。　The　simple　tasks　let　her　not　think　too　much。
　She　felt　sleepless　and　dazed　and　guilt…ridden。　The　world　seemed　vile。　With　each　passing　minute；　it　was　increasingly　clear　that　the　nuclear　slaughter　had　been　a　gift。　In　one　stroke；　it　had　scraped　the　valley　clean；　incinerating　not　only　their　enemy；　but　the　immediate　threat　of　plague。　She　was　thankful；　but　did　not　want　to　be。
　She　placed　her　cellphone　on　the　table　beside　the　mug；　trying　to　decide　when　to　call　her　father。　She　wanted　to　punish　him。　Before　the　convoy　reached　the　WIPP　sanctuary；　she　wanted　to　tell　him　herself　that　she　had　disowned　him　forever。　It　seemed　like　a　first　step。　His　atrocity　was　not　her　reason　for　staying；　but　she　would　make　it　sound　that　way。　It　was　important　that　he　understand　the　gulf　between　them。　She　wanted　to　hate　him。　She　wanted　to　weep。　She　wanted　to　quit　thinking　about　it。
　Her　blood　sugar　spiked　with　the　hot　chocolate。　Miranda　wiped　her　nose；　raised　her　chin；　and　reached　for　the　phone。　Time　to　bear　him　the　bad　news。　Let　him　reap　what　he　had　sown。　She　braced　herself　and　pressed　the　key。
　Searching　for　service；the　window　read。　That　was　odd。　Their　cellphones　normally　worked　without　a　hitch；　even　four　stories　beneath　the　surface。　She　went　to　one　of　the　regular　phones；　and　there　was　a　dial　tone。　She　dialed　her　father's　number；　only　to　get　a　recorded　voice：All　lines　are　temporarily　busy；　please　try　your　call　again。How　could　the　lines　be　busy；　though？　There　was　no　one　left。
　For　the　next　few　minutes　she　experimented　with　the　phone　system。　Calls　worked　within　Los　Alamos。　She　reached　a　half　dozen　answering　machines　and　listened　to　the　voices　of　people　she　would　never　see　again。　It　was　the　long　distance　service　that　was　down。　At　a　satellite　recon　booth；　she　paused　to　check　the　convoy's　status。　Expecting　a　long　chain　of　thermal　images；　she　found　instead。。。nothing。　The　screens　were　all　static。　Finally　it　occurred　to　her。　The　lines　were　fried。　The　transceivers　and　microwave　stations　and　cell　towers　had　been　scrambled　by　the　bomb's　electromagnetic　pulse。　The　satellites　were　blinded。　She　was　more　alone　than　she'd　known。
　Her　isolation　came　flooding　in。　She　hadn't　really　thought　about　it；　but　now　it　was　obvious　she'd　counted　on　some　form　of　munication　with　th