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With a purpose； he found； that would not be denied。
Pyle； still in the lead truck； turned toward Deitz as he approached； his Barney Rubble bonhomie long since expired。 His eyes were flat； and the color of gelatin； his open mouth worked endlessly； producing no sound。
It didn't matter。 Deitz already knew what he had to say。
My turn； he said； eyeing the empty driver's seat。
And waiting for his moment to arise。
When the road reformed beneath them； the HazMat team regrouped as well。 It was an unexpected addendum to the original script； but Overmind was nothing if not flexible。
It gave the first heretic his first wave of followers。
And waited to see what it got in return。
Thirty…One
In the handful of minutes since two； a net of sons had begun to form： confused； scattered； mounting。 Across the county； like light pins winking on across an electronic map； a pattern of pandemonium emerged： overloading phone circuits； jamming call…lines； feeding the rumor mill。
And spreading 。。。
A very frustrated Kirk sat behind the wheel in the PennSupreme parking lot； listening to the ticking doom…clock in his head and weighing his options。
A pay phone stood before him： utterly useless； every signal a busy signal； every line jammed。 The two…way radio sat under the dash； its mike still in his hand。 The mike was dead。
Not an accident。
Because to turn it on would be to invite the wrath of Laura； who would ream him out before he could get a word in edgewise。 But to spill his guts enough to win her over would tip his hand to every other reporter in the tri…county area； thereby guaranteeing a blown scoop。
And there； as they say； lay the rub。
Because Kirk needed some input。 Kirk had just returned from Paradise Waste； where his little journalistic blitzkrieg had e to a grinding halt with the discovery of one big fat dead Harold Leonard； cooling on his office floor。
Leonard did not look like he went gently into that good night。 His eyes were screwed shut tight and his tongue protruded in a horrible yechh face； little white flecks of still…moist spittle caked the corners of a mouth that was torqued into the most miserable grimace Kirk had ever seen。 Harold Leonard had gone out with a terrible secret on his lips。
bined with the clutch of rifled documents； it spelled out a knowledge that Kirk was not entirely sure he wanted to hear。
And even less certain he could afford not to。
Kirk eyed the radio。 〃Aw； screw it；〃 he muttered； and flicked it on。
The car filled with harsh white noise。 〃Ouch！〃 Kirk winced； thumbing back the squelch control。 He toggled the mike switch。
〃Laura；〃 he said。 〃e in； Laura。〃
Nothing。 His voice seemed to echo weirdly； the wave of noise shifting and modulating as if it were trying to form the words。 〃Laura； e in 。。。 〃
Kirk listened； as Laura's voice came up from under the hiss。
〃Kirk 。。。 ？〃 it began。
At the sound of his voice Laura crossed the room in record time。 〃Kirk！〃 she demanded； white…knuckling the handset。 〃Kirk； where the hell are you？〃
〃I can't tell you；〃 he said。 Hiss clung to his words like sargasso。
〃Don't play games with me！〃 Laura said。 〃Get your butt back in here； now！〃
〃I'll be back soon；〃 he said； his voice distant。 〃Trust me。 I'm on to something。〃
〃KIRK！〃 Laura yelled。 〃E BACK IN HERE RIGHT NOW！ KIRK！ YOU'RE FIRED！ KIRK！〃 The noise put an echoing trail on her words； mocking her。 〃KIRK 。。。 ！〃
But there was no answer from the other side。 Just the rippling echoes in the alien wall of noise。
Kirk switched the radio off； his bowels turned suddenly to water and slush。 〃I didn't hear that last part；〃 he said to himself。 〃The transmission broke up； and I couldn't make it out。〃
He figured if he said it another hundred times or so； it would start to sound like the truth。
But the fact was； he had heard it。 YOU'RE FIRED。 Just two little words； but they changed everything。 YOU'RE FIRED。 It was amazing； astonishing just how thoroughly they had clipped his strings； sucked the fire from his guts and the wind from his sails。
Suddenly； everything he'd done…from the day he entered broadcast school to the moment at hand…was ashes。 Cinders。 Confetti in flames。 There was nothing he could do to salvage his career now。 He had taken the gamble； and lost。
Big time。
The pain began to penetrate the protective cold that his mind had thrown up。 Pictures of the future began to unveil themselves； unbidden。 He could imagine the look on his old man's face when word of this got out。 He could imagine the way this would play on the industry dirtline。 He tried to imagine ever getting a job in broadcast media again； but that picture； for some reason； just wouldn't e clear。
〃I'm dead。〃 The voice barely registered as his own。 〃I'm dead。〃 Staring into his rearview mirror。 The face that stared back at him was a frightening grayish…white。
〃Oh； man；〃 he whimpered； slumping across the steering wheel with his crisscrossed arms shielding his forehead。 〃What the fuck am I gonna do now？〃
Kirk was not the only one in the grip of despair。 Back at 'PAL； Gary sat trapped at the editing console； dialing and redialing his house。 For roughly the fiftieth time； he got a little recorded voice； droning 〃 。。。 all of our circuits are temporarily busy。 Please try 。。。 〃
〃 。。。 your call again later； yeah； yeah。 Shit！〃 he muttered。 He slammed the phone into the cradle。 Somewhere up stairs； he could hear a telephone ringing； ringing； ringing。
〃HANG UP！〃 he bellowed。
It stopped。 Gary huffed in pained relief。 Before he could relish the silence； the phone rang again。 It had been this way for almost an hour； an endless upward spiral of fear and frustration。
Gary picked up the handset and punched in the number again。 He didn't know what else to do。 There was nothing else to do。
When the prerecorded operator's voice came on the line； he nearly punched a hole straight through the wall。
And at 911； things were getting worse by the minute。
Dottie Hamm had drained the last of her Big Gulp。
The straw rasped against the bottom； probing for stray droplets of lukewarm Coke。 She was down to her last Munchkin。 It was beginning to look like she'd never get any again。 Nor would she ever get to eat lunch。 In fact； she hadn't been able to leave her seat to so much as pee for the last three hours。
Dottie cast an anxious glance at Dave； who shrugged and rolled his eyes as his call screen lit up once again。 The calls that had started as a trickle were now a flash flood of near record…breaking weirdness。
Because the voices that clogged the lines were panic…voices； frantically spitting out tales of fear and delirium。
Worse yet； the callers Dottie checked out on her video monitor didn't display mile…long rap sheets of crankdom。
These were not your chronic paranoid freaks。 Most of them； before today； had never dialed 911 in their lives。
They were just folks： ordinary citizens calling in to say their trees were singing； saying their gardens had attacked them； or their dogs or kids had gone out to play and