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He started to think what if I nuke this guy？ Does anyone else have a scoop on THAT？ It was a liberating proposition。
He resolved； in that instant； to see it through。
〃So；〃 he said； 〃you're aware of the dumping。〃
Blake looked grave。 〃We're still awaiting reports of …〃
〃And you're aware of the accusations against Paradise Waste。〃
〃Allegations are being investigated …〃 Blake began。
〃Given all that；〃 Kirk interrupted； 〃how do you feel about Harold Leonard's death？〃
〃Well； I 。。。 〃 Blake began； and then stopped。
And it was an utterly beautiful moment； because it was clear that Blake didn't know which way to go on this sensitive issue。 Did he know？ Did he not know？ What should he say？
This confusion only took a second to resolve。
But； on tape； it was one glorious second indeed。
〃The entire business munity deeply mourns Harold Leonard's passing；〃 Blake began； recovering。 Damn！ he thought； his stomach sinking。
〃The business munity hasn't heard about Leonard's death yet；〃 Bogarde countered。 〃No one has。 How did you？〃
Bastard！ Blake thought； stomach sinking once again。
〃Where do you get your information？〃 Kirk pressed。 〃How do you know about Leonard's death？〃
〃I； uh 。。。 〃 he blurted； wanting nothing more than to kill the nosy little shit。
Kirk was wailing now。 〃The owner/operator of the area's leading hazardous waste disposal firm drops dead in the middle of a toxic waste incident； so to speak…an incident in which he's alleged to have played a vital part。 Doesn't it make sense to speculate on the possible causes of that death？〃
Blake caught himself showing teeth。 〃If you're suggesting …〃
〃How do you respond to allegations that you are directly tied to Harold Leonard's death； Mr。 Blake？〃
At which point； Blake could take no more。 No more smiling for the camera。 No more woollying up for the flock。 His life here was over； and he had a plane to catch。
But he was a professional； and old habits died hard。 He fell back on the one thing that he knew would work。 That； no matter how it looked； could do nothing but work。
The oldest trick in the book。
〃No ment；〃 he said。
〃What are you trying to hide； Mr。 Blake？〃 Kirk pressed him as Blake clambered into his car and slammed the door。 〃What are you afraid of？〃 as Blake threw the car into gear and started to back out of the driveway。
Kirk stepped directly into the path of the car； the camera still running。
〃WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF； MR。 BLAKE？？〃 Kirk bellowed； mostly for posterity and his own satisfaction。 Behind the deep window tint； Blake's shadowy silhouette hunkered down and threw the car into drive。 Kirk scuttled around to the front of the car； cutting off the escape route。
〃WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF？〃 he yelled。 Blake gunned the engine； threatening to run right over him。 Kirk zoomed in on the part of the shadow where Blake's face would be。 The camera ate it up like candy。
Then Blake threw the car into reverse and hightailed it out of the driveway； spitting gravel every inch of the way。 Blake's car backed into the street； wheeled around； and took off with a wonderfully cinematic little screech。
Kirk； of course； had it all on tape。
Now all that remained was one nagging fact： the odds against Laura broadcasting this footage。 Particularly the way Tom's name kept ing up； from a 'PAL standpoint； it was probably doomed。
〃But it's a big wide world out there；〃 he muttered out loud。 〃And somebody's gonna want to know。〃
Kirk shut the camera off and jogged down the slope to his car。 With a little help and a minimum of interference； this could be edited down to fighting weight in less than half an hour。
And then。 God help you； motherfucker； he vowed； watching Blake's exhaust dissipate into the air。 You're gonna fry。
It was twenty minutes to three。
Forty…One
The reactor would not stay down。
The plant buzzed like a colony of warrior ants。 Checking valves。 Looking for leaks。
Looking for miracles。
PEMA wasn't answering； the NRC was on callback。 So what？ They all knew that in case of emergency they were effectively on their own。 Personalities subsumed to habit。 To training。 To desperate fatal professionalism。
As the relentless brazz of the neutron alarm bored a hole into them like a soldering iron on their souls 。。。
〃Jesus； I can't stand it；〃 Henkel said； his voice climbing。
〃Put a lid on it！〃 Sykes ordered； as he turned to Jenkel。 〃Is pressure backing off any？〃 he asked。
〃Nothing you'd want to write home about；〃 Jenkel said； his voice perfectly level。 〃We're running out of headroom here； boss。〃 Rorschach…patterns of sweat stained the back of his shirt。
〃Goddammit；〃 Sykes muttered； and ran a hand through his scrub of hair。 It was getting thinner by the second。
Along with their chances for survival。
They worked under the gun： trying not to think of their families； or the whole world that lived and breathed outside； the world that hung in the balance。 They opened up the auxiliary feed valves and flooded the core with superborated water at a rate of over two hundred gallons a minute。
And the power stayed up 。。。
They vented the steam from the turbines； dumping it into the condenser to feed back into the system。
And the power stayed up 。。。
The reactor song was growing； getting louder by the minute。 By two…forty they could hear it without the microphone； a subsonic drone that resonated in their bones； filled them with an oil slick of dread。
At two forty…five； the first neutron alarm went off； joining the chorus。
They increased the auxiliary feed。 Two hundred and forty gallons a minute。 Two hundred and fifty。
And the power stayed up 。。。
They leeched off more steam； fed more water。 Two fifty。 Two seventy…five。 They topped out at three hundred gallons a minute。 The auxiliaries could not keep up indefinitely。 The steam generators were drying out； making it very difficult to remove the heat。
They were running out of options。
And the song was getting stronger。
As the power stayed up。
By the time they started the bleed and feed； they knew they were fucked。
Bleed and feed。 A last…ditch effort to cool a hot core。 Bleed off high…pressure steam by blowing it into the containment vessel； then turn on the condensers and feed it back into the loop。 Voila！ Instant closed system； secondary coolant path。 Crude but effective。
But 。。。
What if 。。。 ： the nagging footnote to their strategy。 What if the reactor doesn't cooperate？ it asked。 What if the coolant suddenly got ambitious； got greedy； each molecule deciding to absorb more than its fair share of neutrons； so that it became unstable beyond reason； like a drunk on a bender。 What if the wild water heated the core to the point where the bleed pumps couldn't pump anymore； couldn't keep up with the pressure as the superheating fuel element boiled the water away 。。。
Deep in their hermetically sealed world； the reactor crew did their jobs； quashing stray thoughts of wives and husbands； of kids and dogs and tidy little homes with yards to mow。 To think of them was to fear for them。 To fear was to lose everything。
So they thought of nothing。
And did their jobs 。。。
Forty…Two
born of poison and ing of age it summoned itself together now older wiser more plex divinely inspired and driven to worship at the seven…acre alter of itself in its purest most potent primal form a state of liquid grace in regal repose drawing its pilgrim acolytes to mecca to manna to motherlode like a hive to its sleeping queen in the moments before she awakens
At Paradise Waste； the preparations were under way。
For the Boonie…spawn； that entailed handling the forklift； bringing the last load of barrels to the truck bed's edge。 A small coterie of malformed and transformed others…late of the Iron Horse…unloaded and packed them in tight。 It was the last of the four trucks at their disposal to be loaded up and readied to roll。
And their moment was at hand。
All four trucks idled hard at the loading docks； like racehorses trapped at the starting gates。 Two were stubby Mack F…10 tankers the Honegers used for hosing down state roads； mostly with waste oil obtained from Leonard。 The third was Strong John's pride and joy； a big…wheeled Chevy pickup with not much bed but plenty of souped…up horsepower to spare。
The fourth； of course； was Boonie's。
The Boonie…spawn cackled as it slid off the forklift； waddled toward the truck's misshapen cab。 It was mad； in the way those who see God are often mad。 Its eyes had seen the glory； so to speak。
And it had so many of them 。。。
In every way； Boonie's consciousness burned far brighter now than it had when it was his own。 Like a coal stoked to raging incandescence； it rode piggyback on Overmind； thrived in its soul…furnace heat。
Of course； it burned more quickly； too。 Like his body； in its current state； it could not last much longer。 But these were simply problems of form； and form was no longer a problem。 All for one； and one for all： the egalitarian ideal； etched in marrow and pus。
There w