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〃I don't believe I'm doing this 。。。 〃 he groaned。
He turned to Kirk； Kirk flinched involuntarily。 〃Congratulations； kid；〃 Gary said。 〃Looks like you get your own show； after all。〃
He turned to Laura。 〃I'll get it up and on…line；〃 he said； then looking at Kirk； 〃but after that he's on his own。〃
Laura nodded in agreement。
〃So what about you？〃 he asked。
〃I'm staying；〃 she said valiantly。 〃I'll keep trying to make radio contact。 If we e back on…line； or the phones work again； I can feed you updates。〃 Her gaze flitted away； then back to him quickly。 〃Someone's got to hold the fort。〃
And in that moment Gary understood a little something about Laura Jenson。 She was tough as nails in her element； but take her out of it； and she was like a dust mote in a hurricane。 No way would she sacrifice that power。 She would stay here until she died； or someone came to rescue her。
And she would be able to rationalize it； the same way he had all day。 At least they'll know where to find me。
〃Where's your family？〃 he asked。
〃In Philly；〃 she flushed。 〃At the game。〃
Gary nodded。 〃That means they're probably safe。〃 She smiled wanly。 Safer； he meant。 As in 〃safer than you。〃
He resisted the urge to bring up Gwen； his own family。 No point。 Until he could do something about it； it was dangerous even thinking about it。
〃Two minutes；〃 he said to Kirk。 〃With or without you。〃
Their good…byes were short and to the point。
Kirk got ready； wincing as he slid into his Wind…breaker。 Laura helped as best she could。 When he had it zipped and flipped； he turned to her。 There was a terrible sadness in his eyes； standing mute alongside the pain。
〃Laura； I 。。。 〃 he began。
〃Don't。〃 Her eyes were moist and bright。 A kiss was out of the question。
So she hugged him instead。
He returned the embrace； holding still for one perfectly elongated moment： smelling her hair； the scent of perfume mingling with her sweat； the faint menthol taint clinging to her clothes。
〃Don't；〃 she repeated； and squeezed him one more time before letting go。 She was afraid to take it any further than that。 If they were lucky； they might see each other on the other side of all this。 And if not 。。。
Don't 。。。
But somehow； he couldn't help himself。
Outside； even the drizzle had tapered down to nothing at last。 The clouds remained hanging overhead； made a guillotine's blade of the sky。 The fire to the north was still raging； flickering bright against its razored skyline。
The cold had rolled in now； Gary noted： a good ten…to…twelve…degree drop。 A grayish…black ash wafted down like snow； hissing as it landed。
Gary kept his bike in the repair bay； which was probably why it survived the storm。 He donned his leathers carefully； making sure he was as airtight as possible。 Then he put on his helmet； making doubly sure the faceplate was snapped into place。 He wasn't taking any chances。
Once dressed； he took a deep breath and threw open the big bay door。 Kirk was there； motor humming； ready to roll。 He gave Gary a deadly serious thumbs…up sign。
Gary nodded。 〃Yeah； fuck you； too；〃 he said under his breath； as he clambered onto the softtail and started the bike up。
The Harley roared to life。
And； together； they rode off into Hell。
Fifty…Five
Gary burned down the wide one…way slope of East Market Street； heading for the tower just as fast as Kirk's cranky six…cylinder would allow。 The speedometer nudged eighty； Gary could push it way over one hundred without popping a sweat； but Kirk was already weaving。
C'mon； punch it； he urged。 Don't make me leave you。
Downtown Paradise whipped by in a blur of hellish detail； its middle American quaintness slick with poison rain and backed by a throbbing storm front that glowed a brilliant brimstone hue。 It was Nagasaki by way of Love Canal； Dante doing Norman Rockwell doing Bedlam。
Because everywhere lay the chaos and carnage。 Crashed auto carcasses rammed through shops' plate…glass windows； their belly fires feeding ruptured gas mains and stoking a score of conflagrations。 Former citizens caught off…guard by the storm and blast lay stiff and silted； stick figures sculpted in blistered ash。 A handful of still…living sinners had evidently gone mad and taken to the streets； repressed libidos unchecked in the absence of a just and angry God。
And then there were the creatures； the malformed alien things。 They curled up in doorways and vestibules； caught sidewalk shadows that fended off the dancing； flickering fire。 Some of them were nearly as big as the buildings they dozed in the shelter of。
He found himself marveling at their slumber； and wondering if they dreamed。
Gary twisted the throttle； slaloming through abandoned and wrecked vehicles； hauling ass for the outskirts of town with Kirk hot on his tail。 His hands were tingling： the condensation on his gloves working its way into the seams； trying to find a breach。 His mind was a schizophrenic relay race： unable to believe what was happening； unable to deny it。 He cursed and sped up； inadvertently opening a gap between the bike and the wagon。
They hit the intersection of Market and Memory Lane with some sixty yards between them； at eighty…six miles an hour； they cleared the intersection less than two seconds apart。
Time enough for Gary to make it。
Kirk wasn't so lucky。
Dean's tanker truck passed between them as they barreled through； the remains of Dean at the wheel： a man…sized mass of gristle and tumors。 Twenty…five years of bad habits had left him so toxic that when it finally awoke； he promptly exploded。 What was left unconsciously manned the helm； skeletal hands dripping chunks as they raked the wheel。
The truck roared through the crossing and blindsided Kirk； catching the wagon just over the right rear wheel well and crumpling it like an aluminum can。
An experienced driver Kirk Bogarde was not。 His reaction was instant； and utterly wrong： slamming the brakes and oversteering radically； then countering in a wild seesaw motion。 The car responded by spinning into a gut…churning three…sixty。
Gary looked back just in time to catch sight of the wagon hopping the curb near the edge of the K…mart parking lot and broadsiding the concrete retaining wall； spitting sparks and stray metal。
〃SHIT！〃 he cursed； skidding to a halt。 He spun the softtail neatly in the middle of Market Street and looked back。
Paradise was doomed； of that he was certain。 Kirk's car was a good three hundred yards behind on the burning street； hugging the low wall； its right side crushed from bumper to bumper。 Gary seriously wondered if Kirk was dead； and had no real desire to go and find out。
He gunned the engine； weighing his obligations： to go on； to go back； to just go home and get the hell out of there。
Then Kirk's headlights flashed pleadingly； over and over and over； going hi lo hi lo hi lo hi lo。
〃SHIT！〃 Gary cried out。 He knew he didn't have any choice。 He revved the throttle against every instinct。
And turned the bike around。
〃Please 。。。 〃 Kirk worked the headlights desperately an