js&cs.thebridge-第34部分

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　　Because　Austin　seemed　to　picture　her　as　some　kind　of　unflappable　love…angel…the　patron　saint　of　inexhaustible　good　cheer…but　it　simply　wasn't　true。　If　it　seemed　that　way；　it　was　just　because　he　made　her　feel　so　goddam　good　every　time　he　was　around。
　　The　fact　was；　she　worried　a　lot。　She　worried　about　almost　everything；　and　blamed　herself　constantly：　Daddy's　little　caretaker；　still　fretting　over　the　details　and　putting　things　to　rights。　From　middle　age　to　the　Middle　East；　true　love　to　2　Live　Crew；　the　possibility　of　an　afterlife　to　the　possibility　of　after…dinner　drinks　at　Austin's　place；　if　it　could　be　turned　into　a　topic　of　concern；　she　had　a　fissure　in　her　brain　already　reserved　for　the　occasion。
　　And　that　was　just　your　basic　generic　concern。　That　was　when　nothing　was　going　on。　That　was　before　the　guy　she　was　falling　in　love　with　got　dragged　of　on　some　secret　mission　that；　by　its　very　nature；　could　only　be　concerned　with　the　disposal　of　extremely　hazardous　materials　。。。
　　。。。　that　was　before　people　started　dropping　dead　in　the　middle　of　her　shift　。。。
　　The　number　two　light　on　her　console　was　blinking；　he'd　flicked　the　switch　one　too　many　times；　gone　from　off　to　on　and　back　again。　It　was　a　mon　enough　mistake；　for　agitated　people　in　particular。
　　〃Yikes；〃　Jennie　said：　a　Deitz…ism　she'd　absorbed　through　osmosis。　She　pressed　the　button；　reset　the　pump。　Now　all　he　had　to　do　was　turn　it　on　again。
　　The　white…faced　man　had　the　nozzle　in　the　tank。　He　leaned　into　the　van　at　an　awkward　angle；　as　if　it　were　too　stressful　or　painful　to　stand　up　straight。　For　the　first　time；　she　noticed　that　his　right　hand　was　wrapped　in　a　large；　white；　oily…looking　bandage。
　　He　clenched　his　teeth；　squeezed　the　nozzle　handle　with　his　left。　When　nothing　happened；　he　let　out　what　looked　like　a　wordless　yowl　of　pain；　then　leaned　forward　and　flicked　the　switch　again。
　　Click　clack。　On。　Off。
　　〃Shit；〃　she　hissed。　Outside；　he　more　violently　echoed　the　sentiment。　She　tried　to　reset；　but　he　had　lapsed　into　dumb…panic　mode：　if　it　didn't　work　by　just　flicking　it　once；　doing　it　eight　times　really　hard　was　bound　to　do　the　trick。
　　〃Okay。〃　Fighting　off　the　minor　wave　of　irritation。　He　needed　coaching；　there　was　an　inter　for　that　very　purpose。　She　got　off　her　butt　and　went　to　it　at　once。
　　〃Sir？〃　Speaking　into　the　booming　mic。　He　jumped；　gaze　flying　from　the　pole…mounted　inter　speaker　to　the　window　she　stood　behind。　For　the　first　time；　their　eyes　made　contact。　At　this　distance；　his　eyes　just　looked　vacant　and　huge。
　　〃Hang　on　a　second。〃　She　pressed　reset　once　again；　stopped　the　little　light　from　blinking。　〃okay。　Now　try　it。〃
　　Click　clack。　On。　Off。
　　〃arrr　。。。　no。　don't　do　that；〃　she　scolded。　He　responded　with　an　expression　of　misery　so　intense　that　she　literally　felt　it；　trickling　cold　down　her　spine。　Oh；　God；　don't　die；　she　silently　prayed；　instantly　overwhelmed　by　her　guilt。
　　〃Just　don't　touch　it；　okay？〃　she　continued；　shifting　gears。　Incredibly　sweet　now；　her　voice。　And　utterly　reassuring。　〃I'll　be　right　out　to　fix　it；　okay？〃　Then　she　pushed　the　button　one　final　time；　headed　quickly　around　the　counter。
　　A　banged…up　black　Jeep　Cherokee　wheeled　onto　the　lot　as　Jennie　reached　the　door。　She　stepped　outside；　flashing　a　quick；　terse；　automatic　smile　at　the　driver　and　his　friends　before　crossing　in　front　of　them。　They　were　three　young　longhairs；　probably　in　their　early　twenties：　all　in　all；　more　Grateful　Dead　than　Megadeth　in　spirit。
　　But　they　looked　severely　wired；　and　the　Jeep　came　in　just　a　little　too　fast；　it　had　to　squeal　on　its　brakes　to　keep　from　nailing　her。　She　jumped；　felt　her　adrenaline　level　surge。
　　And　that　was　when　she　smelled　it　for　the　first　time：　an　ugly；　vaguely　industrial　reek　with　the　distinct　undertaint　of　deposition。　It　was　like　the　stink　of　the　Spring　Grove　paper　mills；　redoubled　and　befouled。　For　one　brief；　unfortable　moment；　it　made　her　head　spin。
　　〃Feh。〃　She　scowled；　tried　to　peg　the　source　of　the　smell。　It　seemed　to　be　unlocalized；　everywhere　at　once：　almost　as　if　it　were　pumping　out　of　some　smokestack　somewhere；　riding　the　breeze　down　to　her　little　store。
　　Or；　perhaps；　ing　up　from　the　valley　。。。
　　Behind　her；　the　Cherokee's　driver　was　out　the　door；　getting　ready　to　gas　up　with　the　engine　running。　The　other　two　guys　headed　quickly　into　the　store。　A　third　car…a　Hyundai…pulled　into　the　lot；　sidled　up　behind　the　van。
　　Suddenly；　things　were　moving　too　fast；　she　could　feel　the　situation　skittering　out　of　her　control。　Jennie　turned　to　the　white…faced　man：　still　standing　there；　nozzle　in　hand。　First　things　first。　She　proceeded　toward　him。
　　The　smell　intensified　the　closer　she　got　to　the　van。　It　was　a　more　specific　smell…oilier；　thicker；　more　cloying…but　it　was　clearly　of　the　same　gross　vintage。　She　felt　the　nasty　little　headrush　resurge。　It　slowed　her　to　a　crawl。
　　And　that　was　when　she　saw；　at　last；　the　soapbubble…thin；　translucent　veil　of　slime　that　coated　him。　Saw　it　move；　across　his　surface　and　into　the　fabric　of　his　clothes；　pooling　at　the　stains　in　his　pants；　his　shirt；　the　bandanna　around　his　swollen　right　hand。
　　And　that　was　when　she　saw；　at　last；　why　the　family　was　screaming。　Saw　the　little　four…and　five…year…old　faces；　suffused　and　glistening；　as　if　the　mucus　drooling　from　their　nostrils　had　spread　out　to　envelop　their　heads；　their　hair。
　　Saw　the　mother　and　her　little　bundle；　little　bundle　that　kicked　and　squirmed；　little　oilslick　hands　and　feet　in　weak；　convulsive　motion。
　　Then　Jennie　tried　to　scream　as　well。　It　welled　in　her　throat；　a　soundless　explosion；　while　the　horror　froze　her　in　place。
　　〃　。。。　pleeeeeeeeez　。。。　〃　croaked　the　white…faced；　dying　father。　Up　close；　the　sheen　was　uniform：　a　moist　glaze　across　his　eyes；　his　nose；　his　teeth　and　tongue。　His　bandaged　hand　fished　into　his　pocket；　came　up　with　a　thin　wad　of　glistening　bills。
　　〃DON'T　TAKE　HIS　FUCKIN'　MONEY！〃　shouted　a　voice　from　behind　her。　The　Cherokee's　driver；　wild…eyed　and　unequivocal。　He　had　just　spotted　the　dying　man。
　　〃　。。。　pleeeeeeeeez　。。。　〃　Holding　out　to　her　the　poisoned　currency。
　　Jennie　shook　her　head　no；　began　to　back　away。
　　〃DON'T　LET　THAT　FUCKIN'　ASSHOLE　TOUCH　YOU！〃　There　was　more　than　a　touch　of　hysteria　in　the　voice。　An　incredible　hatred；　born　of　terror。　〃DON'T　EVEN　LET　HIM　TOUCH　THE　FUCKIN'　PUMPS　。。。　AW；　MAN　。。。　！！！〃
　　Jennie's　gaze　swept　from　the　kid　to　the　man　and　back　again；　back。　The　driver　of　the　Hyundai　was　in　the　picture　now；　staring。　He　had　no　idea　what　was　going　on。　She　wanted　to　relate；　but　that　level　of　innocence　had　already　been　burned　off　of　her　by　the　last　thirty　seconds。
　　All　those　years　of　reading　science　fiction；　of　voluntarily　and　willfully　empathizing　with　the　impossible；　weirdly　helped　her　to　draw　a　bead　on　the　moment。　There　was　a　voice　in　her　head…of　course　there　was…and　that　voice　was　insisting　that　this　isn't　happening。
　　But　that　voice　was　wrong；　and　all　she　had　to　do　was　look　in　the　eyes　of　the　dying　children　in　order　to　know　that　truth。　All　she　had　to　do　was　look　in　the　crying　eyes　of　the　mother　who　turned　to　her　now。
　　And　mouthed　the　word。
　　The　magic　word。
　　Please。
　　
　　There　was　a　paper　towel　rack　on　the　pole　that　supported　the　inter　speaker。　She　had　resupplied　it　shortly　before　noon。　She　pulled　from　it　now　a　stack　of　paper　towels　as　thick　as　a　Frank　Herbert　novel；　then　turned　her　attention　to　the　pump。
　　There　was　a　greasy　skidmark　that　glossed　the　metal　lever　that　activated　Number　Two。
　　The　skidmark　was　spreading。
　　Oh　God。　Jennie　palmed　the　bluegray　towels；　advancing　on　the　stain。　Omigod。　She　watched　it　spread；　then　stop；　as　if　it　were　aware　of　her　advance。　Oh　Jesus。　When　the　pale　gray/white…faced　man　offered　her　the　money　yet　again；　she　whispered；　〃No；　please〃　and　then　sidled　slowly　past　him。
　　Reaching　out　for　the　lever。
　　〃NO！！！〃　screamed　the　kid；　and　she　flipped　the　switch；　letting　go　of　the　towels　the　instant　she　was　done。　They　hit　the　curb　and　began　to　stain；　going　dark　and　slick　as　they　twitched　on　the　pavement。　Jennie　backed　away　fast；　staring　at　her　fingertips。　They　were　fine。　Zero　contact。　She　rubbed　them　together。　Nothing。　Fine。
　　〃Okay；〃　she　said；　then　turned　away；　getting　as　far　away　from　the　sight　and　smell　of　them　as　she　possibly　could；　turning　and　walking　rapidly　toward　the　door　of　the　store　and　the　safety　within。　She　didn't　look　at　the　Cherokee's　driver。　She　didn't　look　at　the　Hyundai　maricon。　She　just　stared　at　the　doors　until　she　was　upon　them；　then　threw　them　open　and　didn't　look　back。
　　〃　'Scuse　me；〃　said　one　of　the　longhairs　inside；　the　one　from　the　passenger　seat。　He　had　a　loud　pink　and　black　R。E。M。　T…shirt；　and　his　pupils　were　enormous。　She　brushed　past　him；　unable　to　even　think　about　him　as　she　moved　back　to　her　place　behind　the　counter。
　　〃　'Scuse　me；〃　he　repeated；　following　her　to　the　end　and　then　pacing　her　back　up　front　to　the　register。　〃Do　you　have　any　cases　of；　like；　Spaghetti…O's　in　the　back？〃
　　〃Any　canned　shit！〃　yelled　his　friend；　from　the　back。　He　had　opened　a　box　of　Heftys；　was　loading　one　garden…size　bag　with　cans　that　he　swept　with　one　arm　off　the　shelves。
　　〃No。〃　Jennie　had　the　phone　in　her　hand。　She　was　punching　in　911。
　　〃Any　cans　at　all；〃　said　R。E。M。　The　courteous　veneer　was　thin；　and　spreading　like　the　gas　pump　stain。　〃Look；　it's　kinda　important　。。。　〃
　　Jennie　thought　about　the　supplies　in　the　back。　She　hadn't　really　checked；　but　she　knew　they　had　to　be　slim。　Tuesday；　they'd　restock。
　　If　Tuesday　ever　came。
　　The　phone　rang。　〃No；〃　she　said。　It　rang　again。　〃I'm　sorry。〃
　　〃Listen。〃　R。E。M。　leaned　close；　against　the　counter。　His　winning　smile　was　horribly　frayed。　〃You　can　e　with　us　if　you　want。　Okay？　I　mean；　you　have　a　car？〃
　　Jennie　sucked　wind；　and　her　eyes　went　no。　The　realization　was　like　a　cinder　block　dropped　on　her　belly。　No。　And　she　thought　about　her　man。
　　The　phone　rang　again。　No　answer。　No　answer　at　911。
　　〃Listen　to　me。　You　don't　want　to　be　stuck　here。〃　The　kid's　voice　was　urgent；　and　utterly　sincere。　〃You　don't　know　what's　going　on　down　there　。。。　〃
　　〃Down　where？〃　The　phone　rang　again。　Her　voice　sounded　tiny。
　　〃WHAT　THE　FUCK　ARE　YOU　TELLIN'　HER；　MAN？〃　yelled　the　guy　in　the　back。　His　voice　had