js&cs.thebridge-第35部分

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oting　home　movies　for　the　tri…city　area。　For　a　second；　Otis　thought　about　putting　a　。45　slug　through　the　lens。
　　Then　it　focused　on　him。
　　
　　Kirk　stared　through　the　viewfinder　at　the　fat　man　engulfing　the　window。　The　shot　was　succinct　and　superb：　blurry；　at　first；　through　the　chain　link　fence；　then　the　chain　link　gone　muzzy　as　El　Tubbo's　eyewhites　shone。　The　terror　in　that　man's　face　was　more　man　naked　perfection。
　　It　might　just　save　Kirk　Bogarde's　ass。
　　Because　he　had　taken　a　step　from　which　there　was　no　turning　back。　He　was　no　longer　a　mild…mannered　junior　reporter；　scarfing　shit…duty　assignments。　He　was　now　Kirk　Bogarde…Renegade　Reporter！
　　And　the　clock　was　definitely　ticking　on　his　destiny。
　　Because　if　I　pull　this　off；　I'm　a　hero；　he　realized。　I'm　God　fucking　almighty。　Hell；　I　may　even　make　the　cover　of　People！　and　if　not　。。。
　　Not　an　option；　Kirk　decided。　Kirk　Bogarde…Unemployed！　just　didn't　have　the　same　ring　to　it。
　　And　so　his　fate　was　sealed。
　　Kirk　had　stopped　at　a　pay　phone　at　a　Turkey　Hill　minit　market　and　called　in　a　favor　from　Jerry；　a　hacker　friend　who　worked　at　Motor　Vehicles。　The　fact　that　Motor　Vehicles　wasn't　open　on　Sunday　left　him　undaunted。
　　Kirk　had　Jerry's　home　number。　He　called　and　got　Melinda；　Jerry's　wife。　Melinda　said　Jerry　was　in　the　garage；　working　on　the　Bonneville。　Kirk　said　he　needed　a　trace　on　the　plates。　Jerry　said　he'd　get　it　for　him　first　thing　Monday。　Kirk　said　he　needed　it　now。　Jerry　said　he　couldn't。　He　told　Jerry　the　story　depended　on　it。　Jerry　told　him　to　go　fuck　himself。　Kirk　said　thanks　anyway；　he'd　run　another　story　in　its　place；　like　an　expose　on　the　disgraceful　local　street　trade；　with　actual　Spy…Cam　footage　of　an　actual　citizen　soliciting　actual　prostitutes　from　his　actual　Bonneville。
　　Kirk　got　a　trace　on　the　plates。
　　All　in　a　day's　work　for　Kirk　Bogarde…Renegade　Reporter！
　　Now　came　the　hard　part：　Kirk　sat　at　the　gate；　inventing　bullshit　by　the　board　foot。　When　Otis　didn't　move；　Kirk　leaned　into　the　horn；　still　shooting。
　　e　on；　he　urged　Otis　silently。　e　tell　me　what　I　want　to　hear。
　　A　second　later；　the　door　opened　wide。
　　〃Our　ACTION…9　News　team　traced　the　toxic　truck　and　its　lethal　load　back　to　Pusser's　Scrap　&　Salvage；　on　the　outskirts　of　Hellam；〃　Kirk　intoned。　He　was　locked　in　his　Geraldo　mode　now；　riffing　off　the　top　of　his　head　and　liking　what　he　heard。　〃With　its　overtones　of　Texas　Chainsaw　Massacre…style　squalor；　it　seemed　the　perfect　setting　for　this　saga　of　murder；　corruption；　and　greed　。。。　〃
　　〃Hey！〃　yelled　the　fat　guy；　lumbering　toward　him。　〃Hey！〃
　　Kirk　went　silent；　kept　him　centered；　in　frame。　As　he　got　closer；　Kirk　managed　to　work　the　chained…up　dogs　into　the　background。　Nice。
　　〃We're　looking　for　Otis　J。　Pusser；　Jr。；〃　Kirk　said；　keenly　aware　that　there　was　no　we。　Somehow；　that　made　it　even　better。
　　〃Izzat　on？〃　the　guy　demanded；　pointing　at　the　camera。　He　was　nearly　to　the　gate；　and　Kirk　could　see　now　how　utterly　blasted　he　was；　see　the　drunken　defiance　lock　horns　with　the　terrified　hand…in…the…cookie…jar　guilt　in　his　eyes。
　　Yes；　Kirk　silently　told　him。　Your　ass　is　mine。
　　〃That's　right。〃　Out　loud。　〃It's　practically　airing　live。　Are　you　Otis　Pusser？〃
　　Silence。　A　wall…eyed；　weaving　stare。
　　Kirk　smiled。　〃Do　you　know　why　we're　here？〃　Only　half　a　beat　of　silence　before　kicking　back　in。　〃How　do　you　respond　to　allegations　that　your　truck…the　truck　that　you　this　morning　claimed　was　stolen…has　already　been　tied　to　a　hazardous　spill　off　Black　Bridge　and　at　least　one　death？〃
　　The　Pusser　man…and　who　else　could　it　be？…flinched　minutely　as　each　point…by…point　ticked　off。　Watching　him；　Kirk　gauged　the　best　way　in　and　steamrollered　through。
　　〃You've　been　used；〃　he　continued；　with　utter　sincerity；　〃as　the　low　man　on　the　totem　pole　of　insatiable　corporate　greed。　You've　done　their　dirty　work；　and；　as　your　reward；　you're　to　be　fed　to　the　wolves。〃
　　Pusser's　eyes　were　watering。
　　The　camera　loved　him。
　　〃The　police'll　be　here　before　you　know　it；　you　know。　If　you've　got　a　story　to　tell；　now's　the　time　to　do　it。〃　Just　a　touch　of　insider's　miseration。　〃Before　it's　too　late。〃
　　Otis；　it　seemed；　understood　his　place　on　the　revised　food　chain。　His　face；　on　the　tape；　was　a　revelation。
　　Twenty　minutes　later；　Kirk　left　Otis；　a　string　of　empty　promises　ringing　in　his　ears。　Yes；　Otis's　side　of　the　story　would　most　definitely　be　heard。
　　So　to　speak。
　　Kirk　motored　up　the　Dark　Hollow　Road：　solid　gold　in　the　camera；　a　smile　on　his　face。　His　hunch　had　paid　off。　The　pieces　of　the　puzzle　were　falling　into　place。
　　It　was　the　story　of　a　lifetime。
　　
　　
　　　Twenty…Four
　　　
　　The　sky　was　alive　with　horrors。
　　The　heavens　unfurled　before　Gwen　Taylor　like　churning　smoke　made　flesh：　a　sickly　rippling　sea　of　graymeat　phantoms　that　flowed；　misshapen　and　howling；　above　her　head。　Snarling；　embryonic　things　contorted；　then　tore　apart　and　obscenely　reformed：　wriggling；　writhing；　perversely　ecstatic。　The　forms　they　assumed　were　dredged　up　from　no　great　black　hole　of　repressed　childhood　nightmare。
　　Never　in　her　life　had　she　had　such　dreams。
　　And　though　she　knew　that　it　was　madness…though　the　still…hinged　portion　of　her　mind　screeched　with　vehement　denial…there　was　nothing　Gwen　could　do　to　wipe　away　the　vision；　no　appeal　to　reason　adequate　to　the　task。　Her　mind　was　a　muddled　bog　of　delirium；　but　her　eyesight　could　not　have　been　more　clear。
　　And　as　bad　as　the　vision　was；　it　paled　by　parison　to　what　she　saw　when　she　closed　her　eyes。　The　shapes　were　there；　too；　etched　in　the　fine　web　of　capillaries　lacing　the　inside　of　her　eyelids。　Pulsing　with　her　blood。　Flush　with　the　life　that　she　gave　them。
　　When　she　blinked；　they　came　closer　still。
　　Gwen　slumped；　eyes　wide；　semi…conscious；　in　the　truck's　passenger　seat：　head　shaking　no　no　no　no　no；　cheek　mushroom…white　and　pressed　flat　against　the　window；　a　thin　track　of　spittle　tethering　her　face　to　the　glass。　A　deep；　thrumming　buzz　filled　her　ears。　Her　breath；　when　it　came；　was　painful　and　shallow。　Her　flesh　felt　flushed；　and　chill。　And　her　belly　。。。
　　Her　belly　felt　nothing　at　all。
　　Gwen　groaned。　She　could　hear　Micki's　voice　dimly；　a　muted　drone　of　reassurance；　going　hang　on　baby　we're　almost　there　you're　gonna　be　okay；　but　the　words　seemed　far　less　substantial　than　the　shapes　that　undulated　above　and　before　her。
　　As　the　truck　raced　past　the　belching　smokestacks　of　Campbell　Chain；　a　great　white　plume　of　condensation　snaked　up　like　a　skeletal　hand　and　raked　across　the　sky。　Gwen　stared；　aghast；　as　the　hand　turned。　Its　fingers　curling。　Reaching　for　her。
　　When　she　closed　her　eyes；　it　was　nearly　close　enough　to　touch。
　　She　could　no　longer　contain　her　screams。
　　
　　Melissa　was　on　duty　when　they　brought　the　Taylor　woman　in。
　　Emergency　got　her　first；　of　course；　but　one　look　at　her　condition　and　they　packed　her　off　to　Labor　Hall　just　as　fast　as　the　wheelchair　would　carry　her。
　　It　was　1：04；　Melissa　noted　in　the　log。　Unfortunately；　it　was　a　pretty　busy　day；　there　were　a　half…dozen　other　names　up　on　the　board；　all　of　them　ready　to　pop。　Only　four　RN's　were　on　shift；　and　that　left　her　to　handle　the　two　women　ing　in　all　on　her　lonesome。
　　They　were　alternately　terrified　and　hysterical；　but　Melissa　didn't　faze　easily。　Not　that　she　didn't　care。　At　twenty…eight；　Melissa　Reinhard　was　a　natural…born　mother；　passionately　dedicated　to　the　art　and　science　of　bringing　life　into　the　world。　She'd　spent　three　years　on　duty　in　Paradise　County　Hospital's　maternity　ward；　above　and　beyond　the　two　trips　she'd　made　there　herself。
　　Somewhere　along　the　line　there　came　a　point　where　near…term　histrionics　were　no　longer　a　threat。　And　undue　panic　would　only　spook　everyone。
　　So　when　Emergency　called；　Melissa　got　to　work。　First；　she　paged　Gwen's　physician　and　pulled　her　prenatal　records；　checking　for　aberrations。　The　records　showed　a　relatively　normal　arc：　a　little　high　blood　pressure；　good　weight　gain。　No　major　allergies。　No　previous　incidents。　Normal；　normal；　normal。　Melissa　scanned　the　three　sheets；　fixing　them　in　her　mind。
　　By　the　time　they　rolled　in；　she　was　ready。
　　She　looks　more　scared　than　hurt；　Melissa　noted　imme