"c42" - читать интересную книгу автора (Burt Andrew - Noontide Night)

9:15 A.M., Friday, December 31, 1999
Agate, Colorado

The first Nate knew of the End Of The World As We Know It was when a brown Hyundai ran a red light and broadsided him at Broadway and Arapahoe Road. Nate had been turning, as had the Hyundai. The Hyundai smacked into Nate's unpainted bumper, sending him into dizzying 360's in the intersection and the Hyundai into a light pole. The street was soon filled with Good Samaritans, people who, like Nate, hadn't listened to the news recently. Others, already late for work or having heard the ominous news from the Pacific rim, scowled and honked as they squeezed around the cars. Nate shook his head clear, and ran an inventory. He dared not move lest anything was broken. He didn't feel any pain. He concentrated on his feet, legs, arms, but felt nothing. Was nothingness good? he dizzily wondered. He gingerly moved his limbs, realizing that one normally didn't feel anything when muscles and organs were happy. He opened his car door into the half-dozen babbling people who were asking if he was ok. Of course he was ok, but he wouldn't be if he didn't get insurance info from the other driver. From the lightpole, he heard the other driver ranting and nearly frothing at the mouth. The other driver was a middle-aged Japanese man. "Aum Shinrikyo was right! It's the end of the world! Get out of my way!" He cranked his engine furiously until it caught. He lurched off over the sidewalk, gently sideswiping another car when he bumped back into the lane and sped off. "What was all that about Aum Shinrikyo?" Nate asked. "Did they gas another subway in Japan?" "Haven't you heard?" One of the Samaritans asked, and almost cheerily explained about Tokyo, Singapore, and what little she'd heard. "Oh, shit!" Nate ran back to his car, limping a little, realizing somewhere in the past few minutes he'd pulled his right hamstring. With great distress at using the pedals he herded his car the last mile to the Safeway where Amber worked in the deli. He called home on his cell-phone, to let them know where he was. Always check in, that was what he preached, and thus must practice. Yes, Jamal said they'd seen the news about Tokyo, and Steve wanted to know, Where did he keep the Cheerios? The occupant count, Jamal reported, had bumped from six to twenty-two. Nate grinned wryly. Just as he'd predicted. The second thing Nate knew of the End Of The World As We Know It was the insane mob inside the Safeway. Not that people were fighting—yet, Nate added mentally. But the store was swarmed like the coupon-Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Checkout lines curled into the food aisles. It was the rare sights such as men in suits pushing carts heaped with baked beans and left-over frozen turkeys that unnerved Nate. Men in suits don't shop. The shelves were already showing bare spots like an aspen tree in November. Nate suddenly felt the rock in his gut: This was real. Mel, a retired civil engineer who worked as a bagger, waved Nate over. "What do you think, Nate? Looks like Christmas again. All for a big nothing." "You didn't stock up on anything, just in case?" "Why should I? Nothing's going to happen." Nate felt sorry for the workers, sticking it out like the proverbial musicians on the Titanic. For that matter, those guys probably thought the ship wasn't really going to sink either. The world still hadn't learned much about lifeboats in eighty-eight years. Or perhaps this was just the shape evolution took these days. "Save yourself, man, save yourself," he said, patting Mel on the shoulder. Nate rushed to the side of the store with the deli. The counter was buried under a buzzing swarm of humanity. "You can't be out of turkey! Give me that whole ham then!" "Hey, I'm number forty-two, you skipped me!" "Don't waste time asking if we want cheese with that, we'll ask for what we want!" "Quit wrapping the meat back up when you're done, you're wasting time!" "Give me all the salami you've got!" The crowd squeezed around Nate as he pushed through to the front. "Amber! Where's Amber?" he shouted to Georgina, the deli manager. "Hi Nate!" she shouted back. She wiped errant hairs back into place. "Can you believe this? Amber's in the back getting our last turkeys." Nate signed an "ok" over the din and jostled to the employee entrance and slid under the lift-up counter. This proved a bad idea. The crowd nearest him, perhaps thinking Nate a number-dodging customer, followed him, lifted up the counter, and streamed into the deli. "Hey, hey, people, you can't—" Georgina cried, but the rest was drowned out in a frenzy. The deli erupted. People grabbed at hams, turkeys, sides of roast beef, cheese wheels, plastic containers to stuff salads into. They fought over each as if it were the last. Georgina ducked into the back, Nate following. "I'm sorry," Nate said, "I didn't expect..." Georgina shrugged. "Done is done. I'll call security." Nate found Amber in the freezer. "There you are! Where were you last night!" Nate immediately regretted saying this, and held up his hand even as she gave him a hard look. "Don't answer that. It's not my business. We've got to get out of here. Come on." He turned to go. She didn't follow. "I can't just leave. I'll get fired." Nate glared, exasperated. He didn't know what to explain first, the end of civilization, the mob that had just crashed into the deli that he knew the single store security guard could do nothing about, or that he really truly wasn't jealous she was out all night. The mob decided for him—they burst into the freezer and began pushing Nate aside, grabbing at turkeys, and hams, and... "Okay everybody that's enough!" Nate bellowed. "Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!" The mob froze, mid grab. Nate put on his best "Under Siege" Tommy Lee Jones voice. "'Let this be a learning experience, gentleman. If you resist we will kill you and the man next to you. Now out of here in an orderly fashion. Now!'" He thought about making his point with his Glock waving in the air, but in a snap decision decided this wasn't worth killing anyone over. The crowd remained paused for at least a second. Then someone said "Not!" and they clawed at the meats with redoubled ferocity. Nate pulled Amber by the wrist. "Follow me!" He led her through the thicket, out the delivery door in the back and around to his battered car. "Next time, would you just listen to me? I told you not to go to work today." "Look, I'll tell you where I was last night, since you think you're my keeper. I was—" Nate waved his hands. "I don't want to hear it. I trust you. I don't need to know. And we've got a bigger problem." Nate slapped the steering wheel. "The car won't start. Where's your car?" "Dana has it, since she had a doctor's appointment. I took the bus." "You took the bus! Oh shit!" He cranked the car again and again. The battery began to sound worn. As Murphy's Law would have it, the accident had fixed the radio's loose connection. It said faintly, "—York Stock Exchange after it fell twenty percent on news of the—" Nate switched it off. Amber looked out the window, at the constant stream of people rushing to and from the store. "This year 2000 thing's for real, isn't it?" Damn it! Nate punched the steering wheel, sending out a short honk. He was supposed to be snug in bed right now, eating a bowl of Captain Crunch while he watched the world fall apart on CNN. "We've got to get out of here. Look, there's Georgina." He grabbed his emergency kit and waved Amber to come with him as he ran to Georgina as she went toward her car. "Are you leaving?" Nate asked. Georgina rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I'm getting the hell out of here, and I suggest you do the same. Head for the hills or something." Nate explained about the crash, his car, the bolt-hole. He'd planned months ago that if he were to get stranded, the first response would be to find someone non-threatening and bum a ride. Calling and/or waiting for a tow-truck, taxi, or bus was decidedly second in line—you couldn't know if such service would be reliable, or what kind of psycho you'd be telling the location of your supplies. It was much safer bartering with friends or acquaintances. The Glock felt heavy in his coat; but only if someone's life were in immediate danger, he'd vowed, would he steal a car at gunpoint. "So, what do you say? If you drive us, you can stay, though it might be on a couch." "Hey, I didn't go shopping. If you've got food, I'll sleep on the damn floor! Get in!" Nate squeezed in after Amber into the back of the Ford Escort. He mentally recalculated how long the food would last with an additional mouth. He frowned.

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Chapter 4.2

9:15 A.M., Friday, December 31, 1999
Agate, Colorado

The first Nate knew of the End Of The World As We Know It was when a brown Hyundai ran a red light and broadsided him at Broadway and Arapahoe Road. Nate had been turning, as had the Hyundai. The Hyundai smacked into Nate's unpainted bumper, sending him into dizzying 360's in the intersection and the Hyundai into a light pole. The street was soon filled with Good Samaritans, people who, like Nate, hadn't listened to the news recently. Others, already late for work or having heard the ominous news from the Pacific rim, scowled and honked as they squeezed around the cars. Nate shook his head clear, and ran an inventory. He dared not move lest anything was broken. He didn't feel any pain. He concentrated on his feet, legs, arms, but felt nothing. Was nothingness good? he dizzily wondered. He gingerly moved his limbs, realizing that one normally didn't feel anything when muscles and organs were happy. He opened his car door into the half-dozen babbling people who were asking if he was ok. Of course he was ok, but he wouldn't be if he didn't get insurance info from the other driver. From the lightpole, he heard the other driver ranting and nearly frothing at the mouth. The other driver was a middle-aged Japanese man. "Aum Shinrikyo was right! It's the end of the world! Get out of my way!" He cranked his engine furiously until it caught. He lurched off over the sidewalk, gently sideswiping another car when he bumped back into the lane and sped off. "What was all that about Aum Shinrikyo?" Nate asked. "Did they gas another subway in Japan?" "Haven't you heard?" One of the Samaritans asked, and almost cheerily explained about Tokyo, Singapore, and what little she'd heard. "Oh, shit!" Nate ran back to his car, limping a little, realizing somewhere in the past few minutes he'd pulled his right hamstring. With great distress at using the pedals he herded his car the last mile to the Safeway where Amber worked in the deli. He called home on his cell-phone, to let them know where he was. Always check in, that was what he preached, and thus must practice. Yes, Jamal said they'd seen the news about Tokyo, and Steve wanted to know, Where did he keep the Cheerios? The occupant count, Jamal reported, had bumped from six to twenty-two. Nate grinned wryly. Just as he'd predicted. The second thing Nate knew of the End Of The World As We Know It was the insane mob inside the Safeway. Not that people were fighting—yet, Nate added mentally. But the store was swarmed like the coupon-Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Checkout lines curled into the food aisles. It was the rare sights such as men in suits pushing carts heaped with baked beans and left-over frozen turkeys that unnerved Nate. Men in suits don't shop. The shelves were already showing bare spots like an aspen tree in November. Nate suddenly felt the rock in his gut: This was real. Mel, a retired civil engineer who worked as a bagger, waved Nate over. "What do you think, Nate? Looks like Christmas again. All for a big nothing." "You didn't stock up on anything, just in case?" "Why should I? Nothing's going to happen." Nate felt sorry for the workers, sticking it out like the proverbial musicians on the Titanic. For that matter, those guys probably thought the ship wasn't really going to sink either. The world still hadn't learned much about lifeboats in eighty-eight years. Or perhaps this was just the shape evolution took these days. "Save yourself, man, save yourself," he said, patting Mel on the shoulder. Nate rushed to the side of the store with the deli. The counter was buried under a buzzing swarm of humanity. "You can't be out of turkey! Give me that whole ham then!" "Hey, I'm number forty-two, you skipped me!" "Don't waste time asking if we want cheese with that, we'll ask for what we want!" "Quit wrapping the meat back up when you're done, you're wasting time!" "Give me all the salami you've got!" The crowd squeezed around Nate as he pushed through to the front. "Amber! Where's Amber?" he shouted to Georgina, the deli manager. "Hi Nate!" she shouted back. She wiped errant hairs back into place. "Can you believe this? Amber's in the back getting our last turkeys." Nate signed an "ok" over the din and jostled to the employee entrance and slid under the lift-up counter. This proved a bad idea. The crowd nearest him, perhaps thinking Nate a number-dodging customer, followed him, lifted up the counter, and streamed into the deli. "Hey, hey, people, you can't—" Georgina cried, but the rest was drowned out in a frenzy. The deli erupted. People grabbed at hams, turkeys, sides of roast beef, cheese wheels, plastic containers to stuff salads into. They fought over each as if it were the last. Georgina ducked into the back, Nate following. "I'm sorry," Nate said, "I didn't expect..." Georgina shrugged. "Done is done. I'll call security." Nate found Amber in the freezer. "There you are! Where were you last night!" Nate immediately regretted saying this, and held up his hand even as she gave him a hard look. "Don't answer that. It's not my business. We've got to get out of here. Come on." He turned to go. She didn't follow. "I can't just leave. I'll get fired." Nate glared, exasperated. He didn't know what to explain first, the end of civilization, the mob that had just crashed into the deli that he knew the single store security guard could do nothing about, or that he really truly wasn't jealous she was out all night. The mob decided for him—they burst into the freezer and began pushing Nate aside, grabbing at turkeys, and hams, and... "Okay everybody that's enough!" Nate bellowed. "Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!" The mob froze, mid grab. Nate put on his best "Under Siege" Tommy Lee Jones voice. "'Let this be a learning experience, gentleman. If you resist we will kill you and the man next to you. Now out of here in an orderly fashion. Now!'" He thought about making his point with his Glock waving in the air, but in a snap decision decided this wasn't worth killing anyone over. The crowd remained paused for at least a second. Then someone said "Not!" and they clawed at the meats with redoubled ferocity. Nate pulled Amber by the wrist. "Follow me!" He led her through the thicket, out the delivery door in the back and around to his battered car. "Next time, would you just listen to me? I told you not to go to work today." "Look, I'll tell you where I was last night, since you think you're my keeper. I was—" Nate waved his hands. "I don't want to hear it. I trust you. I don't need to know. And we've got a bigger problem." Nate slapped the steering wheel. "The car won't start. Where's your car?" "Dana has it, since she had a doctor's appointment. I took the bus." "You took the bus! Oh shit!" He cranked the car again and again. The battery began to sound worn. As Murphy's Law would have it, the accident had fixed the radio's loose connection. It said faintly, "—York Stock Exchange after it fell twenty percent on news of the—" Nate switched it off. Amber looked out the window, at the constant stream of people rushing to and from the store. "This year 2000 thing's for real, isn't it?" Damn it! Nate punched the steering wheel, sending out a short honk. He was supposed to be snug in bed right now, eating a bowl of Captain Crunch while he watched the world fall apart on CNN. "We've got to get out of here. Look, there's Georgina." He grabbed his emergency kit and waved Amber to come with him as he ran to Georgina as she went toward her car. "Are you leaving?" Nate asked. Georgina rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I'm getting the hell out of here, and I suggest you do the same. Head for the hills or something." Nate explained about the crash, his car, the bolt-hole. He'd planned months ago that if he were to get stranded, the first response would be to find someone non-threatening and bum a ride. Calling and/or waiting for a tow-truck, taxi, or bus was decidedly second in line—you couldn't know if such service would be reliable, or what kind of psycho you'd be telling the location of your supplies. It was much safer bartering with friends or acquaintances. The Glock felt heavy in his coat; but only if someone's life were in immediate danger, he'd vowed, would he steal a car at gunpoint. "So, what do you say? If you drive us, you can stay, though it might be on a couch." "Hey, I didn't go shopping. If you've got food, I'll sleep on the damn floor! Get in!" Nate squeezed in after Amber into the back of the Ford Escort. He mentally recalculated how long the food would last with an additional mouth. He frowned.


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