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he livelong day。
The kind with Kirk's name written all over it。
Chris Crowley； the genius who'd hired Kirk； was off weekends。 Chris was the news director； and her immediate boss； answering only to Tom Huntington； the station manager。 In the immediate chain of mand； that left Laura in charge and； hence； Laura's butt on the firing line。
Super； she thought。 Thanks； Chris。 Thanks； Tom。 And thank you； Jesus。
〃Alright； tighten it up； and lose that goddam bag；〃 she decided。 〃We'll run it if nothing better happens。〃
Kirk took the biscuit badly。 Aw； thought Laura； pressing on。 〃What else have you got？〃
The image blinked out on the monitor。
〃Uh…oh；〃 Mike said。 〃Looks like brunch。〃
〃Oh； shit！〃 Kirk wailed as the Beta deck； in its infinite wisdom； gobbled his reenactment。 〃Shit； shit； shit！ Can you fix it？〃
Mike shrugged； hit 〃eject。〃 It groaned and locked up tight。 He poked the cartridge with his pen； tried to jiggle it free； to no avail。 It was jammed； tape bunching into the heads like an Escher ribbon。
〃Nope；〃 he said。 〃I told you； man； these decks are hammered by the time they make it down here。 There must be fifteen thousand hours on the heads。 They're ready for the tar pit。〃
〃Let's go to Two；〃 Laura suggested； rising from her seat。
〃Two's down；〃 Kirk said； frustrated。
Mike nodded。 〃Maintenance。〃
〃Great；〃 she muttered； then turned to Mike。 〃Call Bob and tell him to get someone down here； ASAP！〃
Mike got up to make the call； squeezing past Kirk and out the door。 It left Kirk and Laura unfortably close to one another。 She stood and went to press past him； and he grabbed her shoulder。
〃Let go of me；〃 she said。 A static charge of electricity sparked between them。 Their eyes met and held； defiance and denial slam…dancing in the airspace between them。 He disengaged pointedly； hands up in a gesture of ersatz supplication。
〃So； fine；〃 he said； pouting。 〃You didn't like it。〃
She made a terse what can I say？ gesture。 〃I didn't like the bullshit 。。。 〃
〃Dog shit；〃 he corrected； still moping； though he took the time to slip a little bad…boy twinkle in his eye。
For some reason； that was all it took to push her over the edge。
〃Listen！〃 she snapped； and before he could react； she was bouncing her knuckles off the top of his skull。
〃Ow！〃 His hands came up。 He backed off； startled。
〃Hello！〃 she called out； rapping smartly on his scalp again。 〃Hello； Mr。 Potato Head！ Anybody home 。。。 ？〃
〃HEY！〃 This time； he caught her hand and held it。 〃DON'T 。。。 〃
〃Don't what？〃 she snarled。
He stopped in his tracks。 She nailed his gaze。 He let go of her hand。 She drove the point home。 Throughout it all； their eyes never left each other's。
〃Now you listen to me；〃 she growled； low in her throat。 〃If you want to keep your job； you just shut up and listen。〃
She paused to make sure he got the message this time。 He certainly seemed to。 His eyeballs were huge。
〃You're good；〃 she continued。 〃And everybody knows it。 You're talent is not the problem here。 But if you want to be taken seriously； you've got to cut the kiddie shit and bring me something real 。。。 〃
〃Well； fine；〃 he spat； defiant。 〃When are you gonna let me do some real news？〃
〃When you learn to distinguish your ass from your elbow。〃 She hoped that the words were as cold as she felt。 〃There's a whole wide world of real news out there！ When you bring me some； I'll use it。 Believe me。〃
〃In the meantime； why don't you just grow the hell up。〃
Kirk's gaze faltered； the eyeball war was； for the moment； won。 She wanted to rejoice； but alas； there was still no joy in Mudville。 He was making his wounded puppy face。
And； damn her heart； she felt guilty again。
Their affair was one of 'PAL's worst…kept secrets； studboy…reporter meets married boss…woman。 Film at eleven。 It was yet another piece of unfinished business； Laura wondered why she'd ever started it more often than she liked to admit。
It wasn't just the age difference； or the point spread on the IQ scale； or the fact that he plugged some of the holes her marriage had left unfilled。 In fact； she really didn't know what it was。 They certainly didn't respect each other。 She thought he was a harbinger of doom for a generation weaned on style over content。 He thought she was a tight…ass； both literally and figuratively。
The first time they fucked； it was like worlds colliding。
And every time since； she swore it would be the last。
Here in the station； however； Laura held her ground。 No retreat in battle。 Ever。 When his gaze dragged back up to lock with hers； she was more than prepared to fire his ass if she had to。
Then the police scanner went off； and changed their lives forever。
When the squad car came up against the first downed tree； Officer Hal Thoman was forced to hump the last leg of Toad Road on foot。 All the while； he thought of Trina。 As substitutions went； it left a lot to be desired。
Trina was the hot little blonde tending the night counter down at the Mister Krispy donut shop。 Only twenty…two； and rumor had it her personal hygiene regimen included shaving where the sun don't shine。 Now； normally Hal hated small…town gossip…small…minded people who knew too much about other folks' business and not enough to mind their own…but in this case； he had to admit he was intrigued。
Their paths had been crossing for quite some time； as she went off shift and he came on； and lately； she'd taken to lingering way past quitting time。 Hal both appreciated and drew encouragement from this； and in fact just this morning had hit Mister Krispy with every intention of asking her out。
Until； of course； the goddamned call came in。
Now he was slogging through puddles and mud instead； hot on the trail of hardened； squirrel…hunting desperados。
Courtesy of Bernard S。 Kleigel。
Goddammit； it ain't right； he thought as he rounded the bend； his cruiser disappearing； swallowed by woods。 The whole damn county knows about Bernie Kleigel； between his letters to the editors and his goddam nine…one…ones。 If ol' Bernie said there was a drug war in the forest； Hal figured it just as likely he'd find Manuel Noriega duking it out with Bigfoot in the grudge match of the century。
Hell； even if he found the alleged perpetrators…most likely the Hinds boys； Ralph and Jimmy J。…Hal wasn't about to do much more than waggle his finger。 As a kid； he'd left more than his share of shell casings on posted land。 The more powerful temptation was to write up Bernie； though Hal didn't recall any specific ordinance prohibiting people from making flaming buttholes of themselves。
Hal climbed the rutted grade of the road； his sporty orange don't…shoot…me vest resplendent over his uniform。 Storm really tore the woods to shit； he noted； downed limbs and broken branches were everywhere。 He put his trained police eye to work by itemizing all puddles more than twenty feet long or twelve across。 Strange； but there were fewer of them the closer he got to the bridge。
In fact； in the short span ahead； he didn't see any puddles at all。 It was like the ground had sucked up all the excess moisture； turning the road's surface into something soft yet not quite mud： a near…gelatinous continuum that squished and gave a little beneath your feet； taking the imprint of your shoe without ever quite breaking its skin 。。。
Hal jumped； a wet crackle had sounded behind him。 He whirled and caught the last glimpse of something sliding off an oak tree's face。 It was a magazine…sized hunk of bark； and when it fell； it left a gummy underpatch in its wake。
〃Son of a bitch；〃 Hal said。 His vision was excellent； but he was starting to wonder about the sights。 There was something not right about the exposed stretch of tree skin。 It made him want to do a quick reality check。
He stepped off the road； and realized at once that the grass felt wrong。 The blades stuck fast to his soles； but when he peeled loose； with a scrinching Velcro sound； they held their roots。
Laying flat for a moment。
Then slowly； deliberately； pulling upright again。
〃This is weird；〃 he informed himself。 He stopped； thought about it for a second； decided that he was right。 He turned…scrinch； scrunch…and hunkered down on his haunches； bringing his thumb and index fingertips together around a solitary blade of grass。
It bit him。
〃Yowch！〃 he barked out； genuinely surprised。 〃Goddamn！〃
He checked his finger for cuts； saw only a pinprick of red； veneered by a tacky glaze。
His hand began to tingle。
Hal stood； apprehensive； and his gaze shot over at the oak。 Now he could see what was wrong with this picture。
Now he could see the unnerving； infinitesimal array of undulating grub…things； burrowing blind through the punky； fibrous interior 。。。
I've been in these woods a thousand times； he flashed； but I've never seen nothing like this。 It was as if some plague had fallen； put a blight on the trees and on the earth itself。
He looked through the trees to the bridge。
And； for the first time； noticed the truck。
Hal Thoman felt nothing but wrongness now； a nasty sour ache in the pit of his stoma