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ed。 And the weather had always been a quirky； temperamental thing at best。
But this； he noted； isn't right。 This isn't just a weird； sudden whim of Mother Nature。
This didn't start to happen till we rounded the corner。
It was as if Toad Road had developed an atmosphere all its own。
〃Gettin' hot；〃 Pyle said from the driver's seat beside him。 He had a ruddy； cheerfully predisposed face on a short； squat； sandy…haired frame： a sort of Barney Rubble made flesh。 Fresh beads of perspiration dappled his forehead； grew stains in the budding swamplands of his pits。
〃Yep。〃 Deitz's response was automatic。 His mind was busy； sifting data； relying on his senses and his wits to provide it。
〃If it gets nice enough； my wife's gonna take the kids to Dutch Wonderland；〃 Pyle continued。 He sounded wistful。 〃God； they love that place。 Even with most of the rides shut down for the winter 。。。 〃
〃Uh…huh。〃 Even though he wasn't but barely listening； Deitz could certainly sympathize。 Pyle wanted to go to Dutch Wonderland； too。 Just as all that Deitz wanted was to be back in Jennie's bed； before that first phone call from Krummy Kake Pat had begun to ring the death knell on his wonderful day。
He had been in higher spirits； that much was for certain。 The best day of his life； slightly crippled from the git； had gone terminal the second his beeper went off。 By the time he'd been briefed； with what little information was available； his Day of Days was pushing up proverbial daisies in Dreamland。
The fact was； even a minor spill could be nasty work and tie them up for days。 Not to mention the little matter of the missing cop； which Deitz found severely disconcerting。 When a cop disappeared； it invariably meant that something was very wrong。 As team leader； he was excruciatingly aware of this。
It made him intent on being more than careful going in。 He would err on paranoia's side； if he thought he could afford to err at all。
The temperature and humidity continued to increase； and he noticed that the woods were getting progressively more dense and green to either side。 The swollen air grew rich with smells： pungent； florid； chlorophyll…dense； earthy and heady all at once。
And beneath； it all： an acrid； chemical tang 。。。
It whispered like foil against his back molars； tickled the hairs of his nostrils with the suggestion of stinging pain。 It wasn't a smell he recognized…the entire olfactory gestalt had a queasily alien feel…but it left a bad first impression。
〃Stop the truck；〃 he said。 Pyle looked at him； surprised； he had still been talking。 〃Now。〃 Pyle obeyed。 A thin sliver of disfort wedged itself in Deitz's forehead； like a tiny phantom drill bit boring into his brain。
And his lips began to tingle。
The radio squawked： 〃What's going on？〃 It was Beckett； from the truck behind them。 Deitz took the radio； brought the mouthpiece to his lips。 He turned to Pyle； and to Franklyn in the back； addressing the entire crew at once。
〃Suit up；〃 he said。 〃That means everybody。 And get your heads on straight。 This one doesn't look good。〃
There were two HazMat trucks on Toad Road； nondescript except for several small yet tasteful warning placards on the back。 The effect was designed to minimize their presence to the world around them； much as their bulky protective suits and gear were designed to keep out the world of shit they routinely plunged themselves into。
Inside the trucks were the vacuum hoses and containment barrels； spill booms like enormous toxic tampons filled with superabsorbent polyester down。 Inside the trucks were the only people both qualified and crazy enough to use them。 But as far as the rest of the world was concerned； they might as well have been delivering beer。 No one would ever know。
There were only five other men on the team today： Beckett； Burroughs； Hooper； Pyle； and Franklyn。 Deitz listened to them talk as they donned their space suits； none of them were what you'd call happy to be here。 HazMat was a largely volunteer organization； and an NFL Sunday was likely to find a lot of people…far smarter than Deitz and pany； evidently…somehow managing to accidentally lose their beepers。 Westerberg and Ilginfritz； for example； those bastards were probably already drunk for the game。
Collectively； his team had been on nearly a hundred cleanup missions： mostly small…scale； unpublicized local incidents。 Deitz； on the other hand； had personally served on over three hundred； spanning more than a decade； from New York to the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico。 He'd fought the fires when Control Chemical shot its flaming wad over Elizabeth； New Jersey back in '79； then been back up to suck sludge in '90； when Exxon vomited a half…million gallons of heating oil into the Arthur Kill。 He'd manned the pumps off the St。 Clair River for seventy…two hours straight； when a submerged dioxin blob from leaking storage caverns threatened the population of southern Ontario like something from a bad sci…fi movie。
Austin Deitz really thought that he'd seen it all； and by ordinary standards； it was certainly true。
It did nothing to prepare him for what happened next。
When they were all safely； hermetically sealed； the convoy proceeded cautiously on ahead。 A tense silence had fallen over the crew； evidently； they'd taken his message to heart。
A hundred yards deeper into the woods； Deitz spotted something large in the road ahead。 It looked； from that distance； like some sort of natural roadblock…the forest overspilling its bounds； squeezing in from either side until the road was reduced to a foot trail's width…though the dense shadows kept it obscured from clear view。
This isn't right； he told himself； consulting the pulsively anal tax map the county had provided。 This is supposed to go through to the bridge。
That was when he noticed the police car's remains。
It was sitting in a ditch to the side of the road； its ass in the air； steam wafting up from under the hood。 At least Deitz thought it was the hood。 It was kind of hard to tell。
Because the entire cruiser was crawling with thick； tendinous vines that moved as if rustled by the breeze。
They covered the vehicle so thoroughly； so prehensively； that it looked like topiary sculpture in the shape of a police car。
〃Jesus Christ。〃 Pyle saw it； too： twenty yards and closing now； as the track slowed down to a crawl。 Burroughs； behind them； mirrored the gesture without knowing why。
The roadblock lay just beyond it： the wreckage of a tree； also thoroughly overgrown； a swath carved through it like a jagged； organic fortress gate。 The heavy； hot； foul…smelling breeze came from somewhere deeper in the woods； blowing discernibly through the breach。
〃I don't understand；〃 said Franklyn。 His voice； transmitting off his lapel mike； was a timid little…boy peep。
Deitz understood exactly how he felt； just looking out the window made him want to call a cop。 The problem； of course； was that in this case； they were the cops； or the cop…equivalents。 They were the ones you called； in these situations； there was no one else。
〃That's why we're here；〃 Deitz said； trying hard to sound more confident than he felt。 He felt his military training mercifully kick in； take over where he did not care to tread alone。 〃Ladies； I want soil samples and preliminary readings in fifteen minutes；〃 he continued。 〃Pyle； radio back and let them know we've got a situation here。 The second we've got what we need； we're gone。〃
Then he opened the door； and stepped into another world。
The crew nervously； painstakingly checked their gear and then followed； tramping along the moist resilient surface of the road。 It wasn't like any form of clay Deitz had ever seen； not to mention ordinary mud； it was almost rubbery in its stubborn surface tension。
Hooper had the camcorder； was getting it all on tape。 He was the first to note the fresh； deep tire tracks underfoot： signs of some recent Baja driving that even now receded； filling up as the ground absorbed the puddle runoff。 One particularly deep indentation was man…sized。
Strange。 Like somebody had laid down and made a mud…angel； Deitz thought。
〃Austin。〃 It was Pyle。 There was a lot of static interference； but even that couldn't hide the agitation in his voice。 〃I 。。。 I can't raise anyone。 We must be in a dead spot or something 。。。 〃
〃Fuck！〃 Deitz hissed； regretted the outburst even as it happened。 He turned and saw the men look to each other； could feel their apprehension plete a circuit between them。 He was not outside of the loop。
〃Keep trying；〃 he addended； terse and clipped。 This was no time to get sloppy； they needed him focused； to stay focused themselves。 〃Beckett。 Burroughs。 You can take the soil sample right off the road。 Franklyn； those puddles will do。 Let's get this over with。〃
Which left him； of course； to deal with the vines。
Deitz approached the car slowly； taking continuous mental notes。 The vines： he'd never seen anything like them。 They had a greasy…looking； muted sheen； again； the word rubbery came to mind。
At the ends； the shoots were narrow and serrated； clustered in rings of threes and fours a