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William Blake
〃Nature does not premeditate； she does not use mathematics； she does not deliberately produce whole patterns； she lets whole patterns produce themselves。 Nature does what nature demands； she is beyond blame and responsibility。〃
Peter S。 Stevens
Patterns in Nature
One
Sunday； November 23
Paradise； Pennsylvania
3：00 a。m。
The thing Boonie loved most about dumping off Black Bridge was how altogether goddam convenient it was。 Take； for example； the traveling time。 Even with miniature minefields of ice booby…trapping the backroads of Hellam； he figured ten minutes tops in the old Dodge truck to hump a full load of barrels from there to here。
So even if the storm broke before they were done…and the odds on that kept looking better and better…it still wouldn't take them but forty…five minutes to unload the whole batch and skedaddle back home。
On nights like tonight； he was especially appreciative。
Not that they'd seen many nights quite like this。
〃Jesus；〃 Boonie spat out； grinning。 〃Would you look at that shit。〃 He jabbed one oversized thumb at the clouds； hanging swollen and gray in the black sky overhead。 His other hand gripped the wheel in a casual stranglehold； steering by intuition。 〃They look like big dead ugly brains； you know it？ Like the whole sky is made out of brains 。。。 〃
〃Let's just go back； man；〃 Drew muttered from the passenger seat； bulging lemur eyes aglisten with crystal meth and anxiety。 〃Do it tomorrow or something。 We can't work in this shit。〃
Boonie scowled； dodged a pothole。 〃You're such a fuckin' wiener； Drew。 You don't like the storm？ I love it； man。〃
The sky went kaboom and neon…flickered； winter lightning twitching to the angry growl of God。 Drew jumped and shivered。 It was funny as hell。 〃I love this shit；〃 Boonie reaffirmed； gazing ahead at their destination。
Black Bridge loomed before them； stark against the violent； primal sky。 It didn't need anyone's help to rate as ultimate creature…feature territory。 It was a brooding； decrepit old railroad crossing； limned by crumbling stone and situated smack…dab in the middle of nowhere： a rusting dinosaur from the days when trains were the lifeblood； steel rails the veins of Paradise County and the nation。
A generation of disuse had left it overgrown； flanked by bleached bony trees； choked with kudzu and dense； gnarled undergrowth。 Many of the ties had long gone punky and worm…holed； but its poured concrete pylons and steel beams still held； casting fat lightning shadows on the murky green waters of the Codorus Creek； some thirty feet below。
The only way in was via Toad Road； a bumpy； chuck…holed dirt access barely wide enough to acmodate the overloaded truck。 Snaking through the verdant green valley at the east end of the county； Toad Road went unmarked and appeared on none but the most anal tax maps of the county； which pretty much sewed up the privacy angle。 By day； it was home only to dopers； dirtbikers； and hunters looking to poach an off…season deer or two。
By night； no one came there at all。
Yep； Boonie loved everything about this place： its proximity； its privacy； its dread…inducing atmosphere。 But the thing he loved most was the simple fact that if you pulled right up in the middle of the bridge and angled the sucker back until your ass hung over the side； you could sorta just lean the barrels off the back and let fly straight into the creek。 Fuckers never even had to e down off the bed。 That cut down on a lot of the really heavy lifting； which was the worst part of the job； except maybe for the smell。
Bradley Gene Pusser…〃Boonie〃 to his friends…was a twenty…five…year…old； six…foot…four…inch； two…hundred…and…forty…seven…pound mountain of ugly intent。 His flapjowled； aging…Elvis features were pasty and unpleasant； eyes sullen and bulging under the brim of his blue Steelers cap。 Along with his size and his nasty disposition； he'd inherited the Pusser genetic penchant toward alcoholism； pattern baldness； and flab。
All told； life had been one steep； harsh； downhill slide since the end of his high school football career。 For a while there； back in the glory days； he'd been able to entertain dreams； of scholarships and pro ball and a permanent all…expense…paid ticket out of this pisshole town。 His coach believed； his teammates believed； the nookie…nookie candyass cheerleaders believed； and god damn if his own daddy…the venerable Otis J。； Jr。…hadn't e to believe that a Pusser had been born who could break the chain and bust on through to some kind of success。
But when his right kneecap vaporized late in the season of his senior year； so had his ticket out of town； and his dreams。 Suddenly； the calls from Penn State and Indiana dried up； his name disappeared from the local sports pages； and Otis…who'd taken to telling everyone within earshot that his boy was gonna go big…time…suddenly Boonie and Otis and the whole goddam family had to bite the bullet and own up to the facts： no Pusser was ever gonna amount to a hill of shit。
And Boonie would always be a Pusser。
From that moment on； he'd thrown himself into the family business with a vengeance； working long and hard to make his Pappy proud again。 It was dirty work； but it paid cash money； and Pussers weren't shy where there was money to be made。 In fact； business had boomed since he'd taken over the grunt work； leaving Otis to preside over public relations and pursue his hobby of stargazing through the bottom of a Jim Beam bottle。
On the other hand； there was cousin Drew。
〃Here we go； cuz；〃 Boonie said； pulling up to the point where the road met the railroad tracks。 He grunted； shoving the truck into low gear。 It was hard to maneuver in this much darkness； even the headlights were swallowed up by the storm。 He laid on the gas and eased off the clutch； careful to roll up onto the tracks without losing the load。
〃Watch out！〃 Drew whined； his Adam's apple bobbing。 He was the runt of Uncle Bud's litter； a plete genetic one…eighty from the rest of the menfolk in the Pusser family tree。 At twenty years old； he was as much a man as he was ever likely to be： knock…kneed and scrawny； with a chicken…bone chest and a cratered； crescent…moon face。 His hair was a black matted oilslick that trickled down way past his shoulders。 He wore a black leather jacket and little fingerless gloves； a greasy Harley T…shirt； and tons of biker gear； though he didn't own a bike and wouldn't have known how to ride it if he did。
Drew's contact sport of choice was a little liquid…crystal video game that he wore on his digital watch。 It had an eensy little jet that bombed a teensy little city； every time he dropped a bomb； it played a weensy； wheedling melody。
The truck lurched again； jostling them so hard that Drew's head rapped the ceiling。 〃Boonie！〃 he whined。
〃Fuck you； puss。 Hang on；〃 Boonie growled。 The truck groaned and gnashed gears； big knobby tires biting into rotted ties。 The barrels shifted hard but stayed。
〃This place； you know； it really makes me fuckin' nervous。〃 He diddled with his watch。 Weedle eedle eee； it said。 Weedle eedle eee 。。。
〃Would you cut it out？〃 Boonie barked。 〃God； I hate that thing！〃
〃Fuck you； man。〃 Drew sniffled。 〃This is modern technology at its finest； dude！〃
Weedle eedle eedle eeeeee 。。。
He smirked； and there went the last of Boonie's patience。 He pegged Drew's skinny little jut…jawed profile with a straight…arm； flat…hand blow； square to the side of the head。 Drew's skull cracked painfully against the passenger side glass； he bit down on his tongue hard enough to spritz blood。
〃Ow！ Fug you； Bood！ I'b dellin'！〃 he whined； gripping his cheek。
〃Swear to God； Drew； if you don't stuff it I'm gonna fuckin' leave you here and keep your share of the money。〃
Drew started to counter； then abruptly and visibly changed his mind。 He knew well enough； from previous experience； that Boonie was not fooling。
For his part； Boonie found it downright gratifying to watch Drew fold like that。 It gave him a nice warm feeling inside。 So he decided to be magnanimous。 〃Here ya go； peckerhead。 Got a surprise for ya。〃
Boonie produced a reedy little joint from his jacket pocket。 〃Just what the doctor ordered。 Fire 'er up。〃
〃Thangs；〃 Drew sniffled； taking the doob。
〃We dump this load； I'll cut us a couple lines；〃 Boonie said paternally。 〃In the meantime； I suggest you stoke up； 'cause we got work to do。〃
Boonie laid on the brakes and brought the truck to a shuddering halt； then gnashed it into reverse and humped over the tracks until the tailgate was butt up against the lip of the rail。 The positioning was perfect。 He left the engine running against the cold and stared out over his domain。
Above him； the heavens thundered； so close Boonie could feel it in the soles of his shoes。 A flash of lightning seared the night sky。 〃BLOOOH…HA HA！〃 Boonie cackled； his features glowing green in the dashboard light。 The first fat raindrops spattered the windshield。
At last the storm had broken。
The Codorus Creek had long been a sin…eater for the Industrial Revolution： a chemical cesswa