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Something inside her tore loose then； like a flock of blackbirds fluttering inside her chest。 She fought like hell to keep it down； but it was no use： the fear and pain and panic and loss burbled up like Old Faithful； geysering out in a wave of tears and frustrated rage。
〃Bastards！〃 she muttered in anguish； slamming the phone down。 〃YOU MISERABLE FUCKING BASTARDS！！〃
She exploded then； grabbing a pile of rough copy that no one would ever read and sending it sailing。 She railed； cursing Blake and Leonard and Pusser； the Three Stooges of the Apocalypse； for the greed and expedience that brought this on 。。。
〃IT'S NOT FAIR！〃 she cried；
。。。 cursing herself for not getting the news of it out there； for not ramming it down people's throats while she still had a chance 。。。
〃NOT FUCKING FAIR！！〃
。。。 cursing everyone； cursing the whole miserable stupid world for letting things slide； until it rolled right over them all。
Down in the basement； Laura wept。
The newsroom absorbed her cries； reflected them back to her。 Bad enough to feel these things at all： so much worse still to feel them alone。 Her anger spent itself on empty air； leaving only the terror in its wake。
〃Please； God；〃 she whispered； her voice quivering in her chest； a chill sweat prickling her scalp； 〃I'm scared。 I'm afraid to die like this。 I'm 。。。 〃
〃Please 。。。 〃 she faltered； unable to fully voice the grief and guilt and regret。
And Monitor One suddenly hitched and came to life。
〃 。。。 This is Kirk Bogarde； uh； live； with an emergency report from our broadcast tower on Mt。 Hope 。。。 〃
〃OH GOD！〃 Laura cried； leaping straight out of her chair and heading for the monitor as if he were there in the flesh。 It was a feeble signal； distorted； but it was there like a lifeline； a single candle glowing in a world gone dark。
〃SONOFABITCH！〃 she cried； tears streaming now。 〃YOU MADE IT！〃
Kirk looked like hell； his hair was plastered to his scalp on one side with what certainly looked like blood； and the light source cast harsh shadows on his features； making him as gaunt and cadaverous as an extra from the lost footage of Night of the Living Dead。
But he carried himself； she realized。 He was there； goddammit； and he knew it。
〃Reports are difficult at this time；〃 Kirk said； 〃but our most up…to…the…minute information indicates a tremendous explosion at the Paradise Waste Disposal facilities in North Manchester Township。 All residents are advised to evacuate the area immediately。 Repeat： hundreds feared dead at an explosion at Paradise Waste facilities in North Manchester Township。〃
〃YES！ DO IT！〃 Laura said excitedly； clapping her hands； 〃YES YES YES 。。。 〃
〃Authorities are unavailable for ment at present；〃 Kirk said。 〃But our remendation here at Channel 9 is that you get your loved ones and yourselves the hell out of here。〃
He leaned into the camera。 〃And that goes double for you； Laura。〃
Laura gasped。 On…screen； something fell in the background。 Kirk ignored it； went back to his stats。
〃The evacuation routes are as follows；〃 he said。 〃From Windsor Township； take Route 615 south to Fulton。 From Upper Darien； take the Mifflinsburg Pike 。。。 〃
And then suddenly； the lights went out。 There was a pop。 The monitors went dead。 The overhead fluorescents sputtered abruptly。
And in less than an eyeblink； the room went black。
〃Ohgod ohgod 。。。 〃 Laura whispered； clamping down。 The room was almost totally enshrouded； its sole illumination a wan blue glow ing from the hall door。
〃It's okay；〃 she told the shadows。 〃It's just a blown transformer； or a downed line； or； uh 。。。 or 。。。 〃
There was a drinking fountain just outside the door； its white porcelain gleaming。 As she watched； the spigot suddenly spritzed to life； sending a little arc of water pooting forth； going pucketa pucketa pucketa pucketa 。。。
Upstairs the front doors wrenched open； the sound of metal ripping like paper； followed by crowd sounds； of many many things ing in and rooting around； casting bizarre shapes against the solitary shaft of light that filtered in from the head of the stairs。 It wasn't long at all until it was followed by the leathery slap of feet hitting the stairs； one by one by one。
At the other end of the room； something that walked upright for the first time ever stopped at the little fountain and took a refreshing gulp。
Then it turned and peered into the darkness。 Its many eyes made out Laura's huddled form and it gurgled； a sound of pleasant surprise。
It moved forward； one withered hand up for balance； dragging the rest of its parts behind； and closed the distance as if in perverse answer to her prayer。
And Laura was no longer alone。
High atop Mount Hope； the world premier of The Kirk Bogarde Show was ending just a little ahead of schedule。
It wasn't quite as he'd imagined it； but then what was？ The bad news was that the major east…west and north…south escape routes were hopelessly jammed with wrecks； as survivors of the first wave went manic； trying to get out of town。
The good news was that he could still do the weather。
The temperature was dropping rapidly； it was maybe thirty…five； definitely falling。 Atmospheric pressure intensified as the firestorm drew cold air in from all directions。 Water vapor condensed on the finer atmospheric particulate； bonding。
And the fog rolled in。
Kirk shivered in his linerless jacket； feeling the acid sting of the mist on his skin。 It's primal； he thought： weather for the dawn of time。
Or the end of the world。
His teeth chattered as he rattled off possible； even hopeful escape routes。 He didn't really believe in them anymore。 That wasn't the point。
Behind him and around him； pieces were falling： the tower was disassembling itself； strut by strut； in the high killer wind。 The last hunk to tumble was big as a refrigerator； it crashed into the ground less than ten feet away from the shed with a deafening mump； sent rainbow ruptures of agony throughout his leg。
Kirk blinked back tears。 And kept on going。
〃From Geetzerburg； take Route 232 to Hanlin；〃 he read。 〃And remember avoid Route 30 east over the river bridge。〃
He hobbled out of frame then； looked out the window。
Down on the Susquehanna； the flames were blooming yellow…gold where a tanker truck had collided with a stalled lane of traffic and ignited。 Flaming victims still tumbled to the rocky waterline； their tiny limbs thrashing wildly。
〃Repeat；〃 he reiterated； limping back into frame。 〃The river bridge is definitely out on Route 30。 Looks permanent； folks。〃
Just then the wind kicked up； and there was a great wrenching sound as it caught the lip of the shed's corrugated roof。 It peeled back like the lid on a sardine can。 Metal and junk rained down； a lug nut the size of a golf ball hit Kirk in the temple； knocking him out cold。
He came to in the wreckage an instant later； jump…charged by adrenaline and immeasurably worse off。 He had a concussion and a crushed rib； and his leg was broken in at least three more places。
〃Oh； fuck； not again；〃 he moaned。 He tried to move。
And found h