the hill they’re falling all over the place. Jesus. They’re falling all around—”
That was the last thing the trucker said.
In the silence that followed, Patrick realized he was holding his breath. Weaver was watching the radio as if it had a picture. After a few seconds, the rest of the voices on the CB radio started up again, all going crazy trying to figure out what happened to their good buddy. Someone with an open microphone started to sing loud psalms, and Weaver switched the radio over to FM band, where the Emergency Broadcast System had just kicked in.
Some stations continued to play preprogrammed music. On the rest, the weird faxlike tones of the EBS screeched out, then a recorded voice said, “Stand by for an important bulletin.”
In the police cruiser, Nick and Danny caught up with the bearded hiker—he’d fallen on the yellow lines a little way outside town, dead like the others. Cars were creeping past him on the way out, pale faces pressed to the windows. The screaming woman in her skivvies had run off behind the houses into the woods. They couldn’t hear her cries anymore, but there were others coming now, charging through the trees and hollering like banshees. A mass of traffic was quickly tangling up where the road widened at the end of town—too many vehicles trying to get around each other, clogging the street.
The situation was devolving with the speed of a wildfire.
“Find out where Dave is,” Danny said to Nick. “Get him out here. We need all hands, now. Tell Ted to haul ass back here. I want these people to stay right here in town until we know what’s going on.”
Danny hopped out of the car and jogged the rest of the way into town—it was faster than driving, at this point. The Sheriff’s Station was only a fewhundred yards away, but with the confusion reigning in the street, it took Danny twice the time she could afford. A lot of people were shouting at her from their vehicles, even climbing out to make demands she couldn’t possibly meet: Get us out of here, take control, do something. Danny ignored them and kept on going until she was through the station doors, where Highway Patrolman Park was trying to organize a crowd of some thirty people jammed into the front room—standing room only, the air rancid with fear and anger.
Danny forced her way through the crowd, took a position next to Park, and banged the flat of her hand on the counter until most eyes were turned her way.
“Listen up!” she shouted. “You all need to get to your vehicles or find a quiet place to wait until we have things calmed down, you hear me?” Danny’s voice sounded harsh and ragged to her ears. It sounded the way it did back in the foreign desert. “We do not have the personnel to deal with individual situations. Please leave in an orderly manner and I’ll get back with everyone as soon as possible.”
This last detail was patent nonsense, but it helped. The people nearest the door, complaining loudly and bitterly, went back outside. The others filed out after them with the heavy, headshaking tread common to all thwarted taxpayers. They can write their representatives , Danny thought. I’m about ready to cap the fuckers .
“I can’t keep you here,” Danny said to Park, as the last of the civilians slammed the door on the way out. “But you’d better get going, because traffic isn’t getting any better, even if you light up the bubblegums.”
Park drew a long breath and let it out at the same slow rate. “I’ll…I guess I’ll stay here. I haven’t heard anything from my department in fifteen or twenty minutes. Be an hour at least before I got back there. I might as well stick around and be useful as get myself caught in rush hour on the mountain.”
“Thanks,” Danny said, and meant it.
Park went outside after a brief conference about Danny’s objectives, which were at this point limited to keeping injuries to a minimum and maintaining general order, until the nature
That was the last thing the trucker said.
In the silence that followed, Patrick realized he was holding his breath. Weaver was watching the radio as if it had a picture. After a few seconds, the rest of the voices on the CB radio started up again, all going crazy trying to figure out what happened to their good buddy. Someone with an open microphone started to sing loud psalms, and Weaver switched the radio over to FM band, where the Emergency Broadcast System had just kicked in.
Some stations continued to play preprogrammed music. On the rest, the weird faxlike tones of the EBS screeched out, then a recorded voice said, “Stand by for an important bulletin.”
In the police cruiser, Nick and Danny caught up with the bearded hiker—he’d fallen on the yellow lines a little way outside town, dead like the others. Cars were creeping past him on the way out, pale faces pressed to the windows. The screaming woman in her skivvies had run off behind the houses into the woods. They couldn’t hear her cries anymore, but there were others coming now, charging through the trees and hollering like banshees. A mass of traffic was quickly tangling up where the road widened at the end of town—too many vehicles trying to get around each other, clogging the street.
The situation was devolving with the speed of a wildfire.
“Find out where Dave is,” Danny said to Nick. “Get him out here. We need all hands, now. Tell Ted to haul ass back here. I want these people to stay right here in town until we know what’s going on.”
Danny hopped out of the car and jogged the rest of the way into town—it was faster than driving, at this point. The Sheriff’s Station was only a fewhundred yards away, but with the confusion reigning in the street, it took Danny twice the time she could afford. A lot of people were shouting at her from their vehicles, even climbing out to make demands she couldn’t possibly meet: Get us out of here, take control, do something. Danny ignored them and kept on going until she was through the station doors, where Highway Patrolman Park was trying to organize a crowd of some thirty people jammed into the front room—standing room only, the air rancid with fear and anger.
Danny forced her way through the crowd, took a position next to Park, and banged the flat of her hand on the counter until most eyes were turned her way.
“Listen up!” she shouted. “You all need to get to your vehicles or find a quiet place to wait until we have things calmed down, you hear me?” Danny’s voice sounded harsh and ragged to her ears. It sounded the way it did back in the foreign desert. “We do not have the personnel to deal with individual situations. Please leave in an orderly manner and I’ll get back with everyone as soon as possible.”
This last detail was patent nonsense, but it helped. The people nearest the door, complaining loudly and bitterly, went back outside. The others filed out after them with the heavy, headshaking tread common to all thwarted taxpayers. They can write their representatives , Danny thought. I’m about ready to cap the fuckers .
“I can’t keep you here,” Danny said to Park, as the last of the civilians slammed the door on the way out. “But you’d better get going, because traffic isn’t getting any better, even if you light up the bubblegums.”
Park drew a long breath and let it out at the same slow rate. “I’ll…I guess I’ll stay here. I haven’t heard anything from my department in fifteen or twenty minutes. Be an hour at least before I got back there. I might as well stick around and be useful as get myself caught in rush hour on the mountain.”
“Thanks,” Danny said, and meant it.
Park went outside after a brief conference about Danny’s objectives, which were at this point limited to keeping injuries to a minimum and maintaining general order, until the nature
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