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ind。
At the ends； the shoots were narrow and serrated； clustered in rings of threes and fours and curling around the edges； laced with pink veins thin as baby's skin。 They opened up at the thicker； more mature trunk； sprouting broad； thick leaves： pear…shaped and fluted； the veins etched in rich scarlet piping。
Pale tendrils spiraled out from underneath the leaves； anchoring them to the metal of the car。 Once anchored； they pulled the dense weight of the vine forward； where smaller tendrils reached out like flying buttresses； bracing the heavy trunk。
Stranger still； Deitz realized； he could watch them doing it。
Now； he'd seen rapid vines before。 Down South； he'd known kudzu to take over whole acres in a matter of days。
But in a matter of minutes 。。。
The mass shifted as one tendril； thick as his thumb； settled like a dog on a favorite rug onto the roof of the cruiser。 Deitz stepped back involuntarily； saw that the growth traced down into the drainage ditch on the car's blind side； all the way back into the woods。 He didn't need a map to tell him that they shared a mon source or destination。
Deitz reached into his hip…sack； produced a sample bag。
The vine groped blindly toward him； its feelers uncoiling； reading the subtle shifts in the air。 It stretched； then drew back suddenly； the entire extension bunching up in the moment before it rose： a boneless arm； hovering above him； its leaf shoots intertwined to make a delicate wristlet of glistening spikes。
He stood mesmerized； the sound of his own breathing huge in his ears as condensate fogged the Plexiglas plate。 This is crazy； he thought。
The vine curled back； storing tensile strength。
And then it sprang toward him。
Deitz's heart jumped a beat。 The plant moved with surprising speed。 He sidestepped its arc； grabbing the vine as if it were an adder in mid…strike。 His heavy glove squeezed it； clamping down as he produced a small Buck knife from a belt pouch。 He held it taut； and felt his stomach tighten as he realized that the thing was actually struggling against him； trying to retreat back to the safety of the car and its host。
Deitz brought the blade up； just behind a juncture of leaf and trunk。 The incision he made was like slitting a throat。 He grimaced as a rich； red； luminous sap spurted out； and the end piece came off in his hand。 It was still twitching as he popped it into the bag and sealed it away。
The freed vine recoiled； snapping back to its place on the car； and suddenly； the mass of vines began to shudder； a seismic telepathy that radiated through the woods around and before him。 It seemed to ripple through the men as well； freezing them in place as their static…etched voices cried out in shock。
〃What the fuck 。。。 ！〃 Burroughs yelled； and then the entire road wobbled spastically underfoot； as if some giant air bubble had pressed and shifted beneath its surface。 Deitz nearly lost his balance； and Franklyn fell： a capsized beetle； fat limbs waggling； silently flailing at the air。
And that was when Deitz caught sight of the shambling figure in the woods； the mangled mud…angel himself； features hideously flattened into a leering expression that was one part grimace； one part grin； flat eyes bright with broken glass as its broken right hand spasmed up。
It was waving hello。
Or； possibly； good…bye。
〃RUN！〃 Deitz screamed to his terrified men； and in that moment； the skin of the mud beneath their feet burst like an enormous blister； giving way to a stagnant yellowed reeking quicksand pus that dragged them down； poisoned earth and bacteria swirling around their ankles； their hips； their thrashing arms heads hands then gone without a bubble or a prayer。
Swallowed by the road。
Deitz stared as the road split open before him； felt the gelatin ground go loose beneath his feet。 Then he dove； screaming； every ounce of strength in his body hurling headfirst off the road。 Diving for the safety of the green green grass。 His only hope。
No hope at all。
It was like landing on a bed of poisoned nails。 Each blade was a crystalline razor； a chlorophyll needle punching in through his protective garb to rake his flesh as he hit； shoulder first； then rolled onto his back。 Clothing； skin； and muscle shredded； making him shriek as the blades sunk deeper。 Impaling。 Injecting。
Infecting him。
Mortal pain threw his head back。 His eyes flew open。 The world went upside down。 He could see the HazMat trucks； sucking down into the road as well。 From his point of view； it was as if they were ascending into heaven。
Deitz passed out； came to； passed out again。 His own dying cycle of seasons。 He came to； some time later； overwhelmed by the sweet stench of chlorophyll； blood； and the overriding taint of something he couldn't place because there was no place for it in the world that he had known。
That world was gone。
It was in him now。 He could feel it。 It was in everything； remaking the world in its own image。
Deitz couldn't move； couldn't speak。
He could only wait。
Soon the shadow of the first vine came： sightless； patient； intuitive。 Deitz knew it was only a matter of time。
But it seemed to take forever。
Eighteen
Gary sat in the Studio B control chair； a puter joystick in one hand and an unlit Marlboro in the other。 Smoking in the studio was verboten； though everyone did it anyway； the only reason Gary refrained was the repair…tech mon sense that said you fuck it up； you fix it。
But he was sorely tempted by the image on the screen。
Before him was a rack of monitors； twelve nine…inch Sonys framing a twenty…inch Conrac screen； six to a side。 The left six were dedicated to video effects； character generation； all things puter…based and digital。
The right six were split between the rack…mounted Betacam modules and broadcast monitors showing the up…to…the…minute programming of 'PAL and the local petition。 On monitors 7 and 8； tiny little Eagles got ready to do battle with equally diminutive Giants in a Philadelphia stadium the size of his empty ashtray。
And at the moment Gary could not care less。
He was watching the outtakes of Kirk and Mike's entrance onto Toad Road： the bars and tone； the first sweeps of establishing shot。 The landscape looked strangely overgrown； alien。 〃Check it out；〃 Mike's voice…over bled up。 〃You gotta see this 。。。 〃
Kirk appeared on screen。 〃Lemme see 。。。 〃 he said； reaching for the camera。
〃Cam switch！〃 Mike chortled。 〃WHOA 。。。 ！〃
The image jostled and blurred as the deck changed hands。 Mike suddenly appeared on screen； grinning a stoned grin。 〃Look； ma； no hands！〃 he said。
〃You jerk！〃 Gary winced。 'PAL was a union shop； he could get their asses fried for a stunt like that。
〃Now remember what I showed you。〃 Mike moved closer； until the lens swallowed his face in shadow。 〃Set it on a number three filter； and no gain； and 。。。 〃
〃Huh？〃 Kirk said。
〃Never mind。 Just open up the aperture and bring it into focus； like this 。。。 〃
Mike's nose suddenly became macro…clear； huge and cratered as the surface of the moon。 〃Got it？〃
〃Got it；〃 Kirk said。 〃So which one's the off button？〃
The image blipped off。
Gary fast…forwarded and made the A。D。O。 dump； the technology convening Kirk's magnetically encoded source tape into bytes of digital information。 Once there he could use the puter editing system to do damn near anything he wanted； editing…wise。
At the moment； Gary wanted only one thing： to see who was driving that fucking truck。
〃C'mon； baby；〃 he cooed； rocking the stick like he was locked into the world's scariest Nintendo game。 Except the monsters in this game hung around after the change ran out； he thought。 And they played for keeps。
Just ask Mike。
On the screen； the truck was blasting through the tree again： he slowed the digitized image； smoothing the jangling death…dance on the tape。
〃You stupid fucking cowboy；〃 Gary muttered in memoriam； 〃I hope this was worth it。〃
He found a perfect moment in the chaos； paused it； then reached over to the puter keyboard and scrolled down the menu。 Tap Tap。 Z is for Zoom。 Tap tap tap tap。 Eighty percent。
On the screen； a glowing blue box appeared around the truck； blinking。
He tapped in a few more mands； hit 〃go。〃
The box blew up then； filling the screen。 〃C'mon； motherfucker；〃 he whispered。 〃Show me what you saw。〃
He switched to the Conrac； enlarging the image to the limits of tape saturation。 He pushed it until the actual pixel resolution could go no further。
And there it was； drawn in a game of digital connect…the…dots； hovering on the brink of image dissolution。 The thing that froze an experienced cameraman like a spotlighted deer。 The thing that was worth dying for。
It was a hideous idiot countenance： a lopsided grinning skull； jaw hanging crookedly； eyes bulging like meaty pingpong balls； filthy kerchief around its neck； its long black hair a wild corona as it hunkered down behind the wheel。
It was a ghost truck driven by a corpse。
And it was loose somewhere in Paradise。
〃Jesus fucking Christ；〃 Gary muttered。 This was too weird。 H