dk.coldfire-第42部分

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　She　realized　that　she　was　in　the　grip　of　a　fury　not　unlike　that　which　seemed　to　motivate　Jim　Ironheart。　She　remembered　what　he　had　said　during　their　whispered　conversation　in　row　seventeen；　when　she　had　tried　to　bully　him　into　saving　not　just　the　Dubroveks　but　everyone　aboard　Flight　246：　〃I　hate　death；　people　dying　I　hate　it！〃　Some　of　the　people　he　saved　had　quoted　him　making　similar　remarks；　and　Holly　remembered　what　Viola　Moreno　had　said　about　the　deep　and　quiet　sadness　in　him　that　perhaps　grew　out　of　being　an　orphan　at　the　age　of　ten。　He　quit　teaching；　walked　away　from　his　career；　because　Larry　Kakonis's　suicide　had　made　all　his　effort　and　concern　seem　pointless。　That　reaction　at　first　appeared　extreme　to　Holly；　but　now　she　understood　it　perfectly。　
　She　felt　the　same　urge　to　cast　aside　a　mundane　life　and　do　something　more　meaningful；　to　crack　the　rule　of　fate；　to　wrench　the　very　fabric　of　the　universe　into　a　shape　other　than　what　God　seemed　to　prefer　for　it。　
　For　a　fragile　moment；　standing　in　that　Iowa　field　with　the　wind　blowing　the　stink　of　death　to　her；　watching　the　rescue　worker　walk　away　with　the　little　boy　who　had　almost　died；　Holly　felt　closer　to　Jim　Ironheart　than　she　had　ever　been　to　another　human　being。　
　She　went　looking　for　him。　
　The　scene　around　the　broken　DC…10　had　bee　more　chaotic　than　it　had　been　immediately　after　the　crash。　Fire　trucks　had　driven　onto　the　plowed　field。　Streams　of　rich　white　foam　arced　over　the　broken　plane；　frosted　the　fuselage　in　whipped…cream…like　gobs；　and　damped　the　flames　on　the　surrounding　fuel…soaked　earth。　Smoke　still　churned　out　of　the　midsection；　plumed　from　every　rent　and　shattered　window；　shifting　to　the　whims　of　the　wind；　a　black　canopy　spread　over　them　and　cast　eerie；　constantly　changing　shadows　as　it　filtered　the　afternoon　sunshine；　raising　in　her　mind　the　image　of　a　grim　kaleidoscope　in　which　all　the　pieces　of　glass　were　either　black　or　gray。　Rescue　workers　and　paramedics　swarmed　over　the　wreckage；　searching　for　survivors；　and　their　numbers　were　so　unequal　to　the　awesome　task　that　some　of　the　more　fortunate　passengers　pitched　in　to　help。　Other　passengers…some　so　untouched　by　the　experience　that　they　appeared　freshly　showered　and　dressed；　others　filthy　and　disheveled　stood　alone　or　in　small　groups；　waiting　for　the　minibuses　that　would　take　them　to　the　Dubuque　terminal；　chattering　nervously　or　stunned　into　silence。　The　only　things　threading　the　crash　scene　together　and　providing　it　with　some　coherence　were　the　static…filled　voices　crackling　on　shortwave　radios　and　walkie…talkies。　
　Though　Holly　was　searching　for　Jim　Ironheart；　she　found　instead　a　young　woman　in　a　yellow　shirtwaist　dress。　The　stranger　was　in　her　early　twenties；　slender；　auburn…haired；　with　a　porcelain　face；　and　though　uninjured　she　badly　needed　help。　She　was　standing　back　from　the　still…smoking　rear　section　of　the　airliner；　shouting　a　name　over　and　over　again：　〃Kenny！　Kenny！　Kenny！〃　She　had　shouted　it　so　often　that　her　voice　was　hoarse。　
　Holly　put　a　hand　on　the　woman's　shoulder　and　said；　〃Who　is　he？〃　The　stranger's　eyes　were　the　precise　blue　of　wisteria…and　glazed。　
　〃Have　you　seen　Kenny？〃　〃Who　is　he；　dear？〃　〃My　husband。〃　
　〃What　does　he　look　like？〃　Dazed；　she　said；　〃We　were　on　our　honeymoon。〃　
　〃I'll　help　you　look　for　him。〃　
　〃No。〃　
　〃e　on；　kid；　it'll　be　all　right。〃　
　〃I　don't　want　to　look　for　him；〃　the　woman　said；　allowing　Holly　to　turn　her　away　from　the　plane　and　lead　her　toward　the　ambulances。　〃I　don't　want　to　see　him。　Not　the　way　he'll　be。　All　dead。　All　broken　up　and　burned　and　dead。〃　
　They　walked　together　through　the　soft；　tilled　earth；　where　a　new　crop　would　be　planted　in　late　winter　and　sprout　up　green　and　tender　in　the　spring；　by　which　time　all　signs　of　death　would　have　been　eradicated　and　nature's　illusion　of　life…everlasting　restored。　
　Something　was　happening　to　Holly。　A　fundamental　change　was　taking　place　in　her。　She　didn't　understand　what　it　was　yet；　didn't　know　what　it　would　mean　or　how　different　a　person　she　would　be　when　it　was　plete；　but　she　was　aware　of　profound　movement　in　the　bedrock　of　her　heart；　her　mind。　
　Because　her　inner　world　was　in　such　turmoil；　she　had　no　spare　energy　to　cope　with　the　outer　world；　so　she　placidly　followed　the　standard　post…crash　program　with　her　fellow　passengers。　
　She　was　impressed　by　the　web　of　emotional；　psychological；　and　practical　support　provided　to　survivors　of　Flight　246。　Dubuque's　medical　and　civil　defense　munity…which　obviously　had　planned　for　such　an　emergency　…responded　swiftly　and　effectively。　In　addition　psychologists；　counselors；　ministers；　priests；　and　a　rabbi　were　available　to　the　uninjured　passengers　within　minutes　of　their　arrival　at　the　terminal。　A　large　VIP　lounge…with　mahogany　tables　and　fortable　chairs　upholstered　in　nubby　blue　fabric　…had　been　set　aside　for　their　use；　ten　or　twelve　telephone　lines　sequestered　from　normal　airport　operations；　and　nurses　provided　to　monitor　them　for　signs　of　delayed　shock。　
　United's　employees　were　especially　solicitous；　assisting　with　local　over　night　acmodations　and　new　travel　arrangements；　as　quickly　as　possible　reuniting　the　uninjured　with　friends　or　relatives　who　had　been　transported　to　various　hospitals；　and　passionately　conveying　word　of　loved　ones'　deaths。　Their　horror　and　grief　seemed　as　deep　as　that　of　the　passengers；　and　they　were　shaken　and　remorseful　that　such　a　thing　could　happen　with　one　of　their　planes。　Holly　saw　a　young　woman　in　a　United　jacket　turn　suddenly　and　leave　the　room　in　tears；　and　all　the　others；　men　and　women　alike；　were　pale　and　shaky。　She　found　herself　wanting　to　console　them；　put　an　arm　around　them　and　tell　them　that　even　the　best…built　and　best…maintained　machines　were　doomed　to　fail　sooner　or　later　because　human　knowledge　was　imperfect　and　darkness　was　loose　in　the　world。　
　Courage；　dignity；　and　passion　were　so　universally　in　evidence　under　such　trying　circumstances　that　Holly　was　dismayed　by　the　full…scale　arrival　of　the　media。　She　knew　that　dignity；　at　least；　would　be　an　early　victim　of　their　assault。　To　be　fair；　they　were　only　doing　their　job；　the　problems　and　pressures　of　which　she　knew　too　well。　But　the　percentage　of　reporters　who　could　perform　their　work　properly　was　no　greater　than　the　percentage　of　plumbers　who　were　petent　or　the　percentage　of　carpenters　who　could　miter　a　doorframe　perfectly　every　time。　The　difference　was　that　unfeeling；　inept；　or　downright　hostile　reporters　could　cause　their　subjects　considerable　embarrassment　and；　in　some　cases；　malign　the　innocent　and　permanently　damage　reputations；　which　was　a　lot　worse　than　a　backed…up　drain　or　mismatched　pieces　of　wood　molding。　
　The　whole　spectrum　of　TV；　radio；　and　print　journalists　swarmed　into　the　airport　and　soon　penetrated　even　those　areas　where　their　presence　was　normally　restricted。　Some　were　respectful　of　the　survivors'　emotional　and　mental　condition；　but　most　of　them　badgered　the　United　employees　about　〃responsibility〃　and　〃moral　obligation；〃　or　hounded　the　survivors　to　reveal　their　innermost　fears　and　relive　the　recent　horror　for　the　delectation　of　news　consumers。　Though　Holly　knew　the　drill　and　was　expert　at　fending　them　off；　she　was　asked　the　same　question　half　a　dozen　times　by　four　different　reporters　within　fifteen　minutes：　〃How　did　you　feel？〃　How　did　you　feel　when　you　heard　it　might　be　a　crash　landing？　How　did　you　feel　when　you　thought　you　were　going　to　die？　How　did　you　feel　when　you　saw　that　some　of　those　around　you　had　died？　Finally；　cornered　near　a　large　observation　window　that　looked　out　on　arriving　and　departing　flights；　she　blew　up　at　an　eager　and　expensively　coiffured　CNN　reporter　named　Anlock；　who　simply　could　not　understand　that　she　was　unflattered　by　his　attentions。　〃Ask　me　what　I　saw；　or　ask　me　what　I　think；〃　she　told　him。　〃Ask　me　who；　what；　where；　why；　and　how；　but　for　God's　sake　don't　ask　me　how　I　feel；　because　if　you're　a　human　being　you've　got　to　know　how　I　feel。　If　you　have　any　empathy　at　all　for　the　human　condition；　you've　got　to　know。〃　
　Anlock　and　his　cameraman　tried　to　back　off；　move　on　to　other　prey。　
　She　was　aware　that　most　of　the　people　in　the　crowded　room　had　turned　to　see　what　the　motion　was　about；　but　she　didn't　care。　She　was　not　go