jefflong.yearzero-第86节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　them。　They　simply　hadn't　known　their　hearts　before。　Now　they　did。
　A　woman　approached　her。　〃How　can　we　leave　you？　e　with　us；〃　she　said。　〃Think　about　it。　You'll　be　all　alone。〃
　Miranda　smiled。　That　surprised　her。　She　could　smile。
　〃We'll　remember　you；〃　the　woman　said；　backing　away。
　〃Thank　you；〃　said　Miranda。
　Several　times　she　overheard　Nathan　Lee's　name。　They　linked　her　to　him　and　watched　her　pass　among　them　with　pitying　eyes。　In　their　minds　she　was　the　tragic　widow。Is　that　all　this　is？　she　asked　herself。　Aromantic　suicide？　She　rejected　her　doubt。　It　was　more。　It　had　to　be。　Her　grand　idea　had　e　to　envelop　her。　She　had　set　it　in　motion；　and　now　she'd　bee　its　passenger。　It　was　carrying　her　along。　But　also　it　wasn't　carrying　her　at　all。　She　had　already　reached　her　destination。
　Every　light　in　every　room　and　along　every　street　had　been　left　on。　It　was　as　if　the　city　wanted　to　guarantee　that　not　even　a　shadow　might　be　left　behind。　The　bright　lights　made　it　hard　to　see　any　constellations　between　the　clouds。　They　wanted　one　last　taste　of　the　stars。　When　the　clouds　parted　to　show　Mars；　a　great　cheer　went　up。　Every　child　was　raised　on　shoulders　to　memorize　the　sight。
　Quickly；　within　a　half　hour；　the　convoy　was　loaded。
　The　earthmovers　set　off　first　to　clean　the　blistered　highways　of　debris。　There　would　be　no　snow　down　in　the　valley；　Miranda　realized。　The　bomb　would　have　melted　every　trace　of　it　for　miles。　There　would　be　minimal　to　zero　damage　to　the　highway　itself；　no　blast　crater。　It　would　be　more　like　the　aftermath　of　a　typhoon。　The　generals　knew　their　business。
　Gunships　pounced　up；　flanking　the　vanguard。　At　last　the　hundreds　of　trucks　started　to　unwind　from　Los　Alamos；　one　behind　another；　ing　together　into　a　single　black　snake　that　glided　off　into　the　depths。　As　she　started　back　to　Alpha　Lab；　the　convoy　passed　her　going　the　opposite　direction。
　It　took　less　than　an　hour　to　empty　the　city。　Silence　rushed　in。　She　watched　from　the　doorway　and　Los　Alamos　looked　like　a　kingdom　of　ice；　motionless；　its　radiance　sharp　and　clean。　After　a　while；　the　dogs　started　barking　to　each　other。
　　
　MIRANDA　WAS　NOT　QUITE　SUREwhat　came　next；　and　so　she　decided　to　make　herself　a　cup　of　hot　chocolate。　She　didn't　particularly　like　hot　chocolate。　But　she　felt　cold；　and　it　was　a　wintry　night。　Hot　chocolate　sounded　nice。
　As　she　made　her　way　through　the　building；　the　lab　was　alive。　puter　screens　glowed　in　darkened　rooms。　Machinery　hummed。　The　smell　of　burned　coffee　and　microwave　popcorn　drifted　through　the　air　ducts。　The　PCR　robots　were　still　at　work；　automatically　stamping　out　more　and　more　copies　of　DNA　fragments。　A　centrifuge　was　whirling　a　blood　sample　in　infinite　orbit。　This　was　her　inheritance。
　Descending　to　C　floor；　she　went　to　the　small　kitchenette　and　put　a　pot　of　water　on　the　oven　plate。　She　rooted　through　the　cabinet　and　found　the　packets　of　chocolate；　and　took　her　time　cleaning　a　mug。　The　simple　tasks　let　her　not　think　too　much。
　She　felt　sleepless　and　dazed　and　guilt…ridden。　The　world　seemed　vile。　With　each　passing　minute；　it　was　increasingly　clear　that　the　nuclear　slaughter　had　been　a　gift。　In　one　stroke；　it　had　scraped　the　valley　clean；　incinerating　not　only　their　enemy；　but　the　immediate　threat　of　plague。　She　was　thankful；　but　did　not　want　to　be。
　She　placed　her　cellphone　on　the　table　beside　the　mug；　trying　to　decide　when　to　call　her　father。　She　wanted　to　punish　him。　Before　the　convoy　reached　the　WIPP　sanctuary；　she　wanted　to　tell　him　herself　that　she　had　disowned　him　forever。　It　seemed　like　a　first　step。　His　atrocity　was　not　her　reason　for　staying；　but　she　would　make　it　sound　that　way。　It　was　important　that　he　understand　the　gulf　between　them。　She　wanted　to　hate　him。　She　wanted　to　weep。　She　wanted　to　quit　thinking　about　it。
　Her　blood　sugar　spiked　with　the　hot　chocolate。　Miranda　wiped　her　nose；　raised　her　chin；　and　reached　for　the　phone。　Time　to　bear　him　the　bad　news。　Let　him　reap　what　he　had　sown。　She　braced　herself　and　pressed　the　key。
　Searching　for　service；the　window　read。　That　was　odd。　Their　cellphones　normally　worked　without　a　hitch；　even　four　stories　beneath　the　surface。　She　went　to　one　of　the　regular　phones；　and　there　was　a　dial　tone。　She　dialed　her　father's　number；　only　to　get　a　recorded　voice：All　lines　are　temporarily　busy；　please　try　your　call　again。How　could　the　lines　be　busy；　though？　There　was　no　one　left。
　For　the　next　few　minutes　she　experimented　with　the　phone　system。　Calls　worked　within　Los　Alamos。　She　reached　a　half　dozen　answering　machines　and　listened　to　the　voices　of　people　she　would　never　see　again。　It　was　the　long　distance　service　that　was　down。　At　a　satellite　recon　booth；　she　paused　to　check　the　convoy's　status。　Expecting　a　long　chain　of　thermal　images；　she　found　instead。。。nothing。　The　screens　were　all　static。　Finally　it　occurred　to　her。　The　lines　were　fried。　The　transceivers　and　microwave　stations　and　cell　towers　had　been　scrambled　by　the　bomb's　electromagnetic　pulse。　The　satellites　were　blinded。　She　was　more　alone　than　she'd　known。
　Her　isolation　came　flooding　in。　She　hadn't　really　thought　about　it；　but　now　it　was　obvious　she'd　counted　on　some　form　of　munication　with　the　WIPP　people。　Suddenly　Miranda　wasn't　sure　she　was　strong　enough　for　this。　She　could　go　mad　up　here；　wandering　the　streets；　distilling　nonsensical　potions；　talking　to　ghosts　in　their　apartments。　The　city　was　small；　but　more　than　large　enough　to　bee　her　labyrinth。　The　reactor　would　keep　pumping　out　electricity　for　decades　to　e；　but　one　by　one　the　lights　would　go　out。　She　couldn't　hope　to　maintain　the　plex；　much　less　go　out　into　the　world　searching　for　survivors。　What　had　she　been　thinking？　For　a　bad　moment；　her　resolution　crumbled。　It　wasn't　too　late。　With　a　moon　suit；　in　a　humvee；　if　she　started　now；　she　could　still　catch　the　convoy；　go　down　into　the　earth；　ask　her　father's　forgiveness。。。。
　Then　her　panic　spent　itself。　She　was　too　tired。　And　cold。　She　couldn't　seem　to　get　warm。　A　blanket；　a　little　sleep；　that's　what　she　needed。　After　that　she　could　start　to　inventory　what　was　left　of　Eden。
　　
　SHE　WOKE；　on　the　floor　of　someone's　office；　to　the　sound　of　elevator　doors　opening　and　closing　at　the　end　of　the　hallway。　Had　someone　returned？　She　almost　turned　on　the　light；　then　heard　the　crash　of　glassware。　A　door　banged　open。　More　glass　broke。　Men's　voices　filtered　down　the　corridor。
　She　edged　the　door　wider　and　darted　her　head　out。　At　the　far　end　of　the　hall；　hunched　like　a　hunter；　a　man　was　carrying　a　broken　pipe　for　a　spear。　He　disappeared　around　the　corner。Dear　god；　she　thought。Survivors。
　It　was　nearly　seven　in　the　morning。　Time　enough；　she　realized；　for　anyone　to　have　ascended　the　highway　from　the　valley。　Nathan　Lee's　words　floated　to　her。Be　careful　what　you　wish　for。　You　want　them　to　be　lambs。　But　what　if　they're　wolves。
　The　bomb　must　have　spared　hundreds；　if　not　thousands　of　the　pilgrims。　Huddled　in　their　canyons　and　arroyos　miles　away；　the　blast　might　have　passed　right　over　them。　And　now　they　had　e；　for　theirhajj　or　simply　for　their　pound　of　flesh。　They　would　destroy　the　city。　She　tasted　the　bitterness。You　destroyed　yourself。
　More　doors　crashed　open。　Furniture　tipped　over。　The　ransacking　went　on。
　Footsteps　approached。　She　tried　to　reckon　their　numbers。　One；　it　seemed。　Limping。　Images　of　Hiroshima　sprang　at　her；　flash…burned　victims；　skin　hanging。　Mad　as　hell。
　A　tall　silhouette　rippled　across　the　door's　opaque　glass。　The　footsteps　passed。　She　waited　a　minute；　then　eased　the　door　open　an　inch　at　a　time。　The　floor　was　spotted　with　bloody；　barefoot　prints。
　Glass　splintered　in　an　office　door。　Miranda　heard　yelling；　wild　men；　a　babel　of　words。　They　were　hunting。　They　would　find　her　eventually。　She　armed　herself　with　a　champagne　bottle　left　over　from　someone's　office　party；　then　put　it　down。
　Her　only　hope　was　the　elevator。　Miranda's　thoughts　raced。　Once　up　to　the　first　floor；　she　could　bolt　for　the　back　exit；　hide　in　the　forest　or　in　a　cave。　The　mesa　walls　were　pockmarked　with　them。　She　could　outwait　the　invaders；　raid　for　food；　at　night　make　a　fire。　Food！　She　stuffed　her　pockets　with　food；　little　packets　of　crackers　and　candy。　She　found　a　box　of　kitchen　matches。　An　idea　came　to　her。
　More　crashing；　more　shattering　of　glass。　They　were　searching　room　to　room。
　She　took　one　of　the　matches　and　scratched　it　on　the　box；　and　held　the　flame　beneath　the　glass　rod　on　the　fire　detector。　It　took　forever；　it　seemed。
　Abruptly；　the　sprinkler　system　bucked　on。　Chemical　mist　hissed　from　the　ceiling　nozzle。　Office　and　hall　lights　winked　off；　and　were　replaced　by　strobes。　The　alarm　began　honking　savagely。
　She　heard　men　running　past；　shouting；　bare　feet　slapping　the　wet　floor。　One　slipped；　skidded；　banged　hard　against　her　door。　His　shadow　rose　up；　ran　on。
　At　last　their　voices　dimmed。　She　opened　the　door。　The　elevator　was　only　fifty　feet　away。Walk　or　run？　She　did　both　in　small　bursts。　Broken　windows　on　office　doors　gaped　like　ragged　jaws。　Glass　lay　everywhere。　Chairs　and　desks　had　been　thrown　so　hard　against　the　walls　they　hung　from　the　dry　wall。　Books　had　been　ripped　to　shreds；　papers　scattered。　They　were　in　a　fury；　laying　waste　to　everything。　Their　hatred　made　her　weak。
　Miranda　reached　the　elevato