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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