js&cs.thebridge-第42部分

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　　Last；　of　course；　was　dear　old　Dad：　huge；　stoop…shouldered　and　hollering　from　his　place　behind　the　wheel。　The　sight　pushed　all　of　her　damaged；　dysfunctional　family　buttons　at　once。　The　contents　of　his　dissertation　were　hidden；　but　the　dynamics　were　unmistakable。　What　an　asshole；　she　thought；　her　contempt　instantaneous。
　　Then　he　threw　open　the　door；　staggered　rapidly　for　the　pump。
　　And　her　first　impression　radically　changed。
　　Jesus　God。　Suddenly　alarmed。　What　happened　to　you？　Even　from　fifteen　yards　away；　the　unhealthy　sheen　of　his　overwhite　plexion　was　impossible　to　miss。　He　moved　painfully；　like　he　might　keel　over　at　any　second；　from　the　hurried；　hitching　gait　of　his　bearlike　body　to　the　unnatural　pallor　of　his　face；　everything　about　him　looked　terribly　wrong。
　　He　wasn't　even　dressed　like　a　man　on　vacation。　He　was　dressed　like　a　guy　who'd　been　puttering　around　the　house：　dirty　jeans；　an　oil…stained　work　shirt。　His　pants　were　soggy　and　stained；　as　if　he'd　fallen　into　something　vile。
　　Jennie　thought　instantly　of　calling　911；　mentally　calculated　how　long　it　might　take　an　ambulance　to　get　here。　If　he　was　having　a　heart　attack　or　something；　she　didn't　know　what　she'd　do。　Her　repertoire　of　therapeutic　moves　was　ridiculously　small。　The　Heimlich　maneuver。　A　really　great　back　rub。
　　At　the　same　time；　she　told　herself；　he's　still　walking　around。　It　might　be　just　a　little　bit　premature　to　call。
　　Which；　of　course；　forced　her　to　respond　to　herself　with　a　reminder　of　how　badly　he'd　been　driving。　Which；　of　course；　set　her　off　on　a　prehensive　point/counterpoint　volley　inside　her　head。　By　the　time　she　got　done　weighing　the　options；　he　had　his　gas　cap　off　and　was　ready　to　go。
　　She　decided　to　give　it　a　minute；　keep　a　watchful　eye　on　him；　hope　for　the　best；　and　prepare　herself；　should　the　worst　transpire。　As　it　so　often　did。
　　The　thought　made　her　glance　nervously　at　the　clock。
　　And；　for　some　strange　reason；　worry　about　her　man。
　　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　th