[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Baker guessed. Judging by his facial features and deformities, the boy
suffered from some form of retardation. Baker couldn't determine what type.
"Thank you," Baker nodded, smiling gently.
"Ellkohm!"
Welcome, perhaps?
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Baker turned away to lay the rag on the sink, asking "My name is
Professor Baker. What's yours?"
82 The boy made no reply. Baker looked back over his shoulder. The boy
peered up at him curiously.
"Ellkohm!" he cheered again.
"What's your name, my friend?" Baker asked. The boy stared at his lips,
brow knitted in concentration. He shook his head in frustration, and
continued staring, waiting for Baker to repeat himself.
He's reading my lips! He's deaf!
Baker knelt before him on the floor, forming his words carefully.
"My name is Baker," he pointed to his chest. "What is your name?"
Understanding flickered in the boy's eyes and he clapped.
"Wohrm!" he chirped, poking a thumb at himself.
"Worm?" Baker queried. The boy nodded gleefully, and then pointed at Baker.
"Baykhar?"
"Yes, Baker." He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed. "It
is very nice to meet you, Worm."
"Nyyyz to eeet oo!" Worm agreed.
Baker laughed, his tears and guilt forgotten for a moment.
Baker shared his vending machine spoils with his new companion.
Conversation was nonexistent, save for Worm's delighted grunts as he
devoured the candy bars. He whistled and hooted in enjoyment, and Baker
grinned.
How had he survived, alone and without guidance? Baker had no way of
knowing.
He tapped Worm on the shoulder. The boy looked at him expectantly.
"Where are your parents?"
Worm's glance fell to his lap, a shadow passing
83 beneath his soulful brown eyes.
"Mmm-myss," he stammered. "Myss eeght Mawmee."
"I don't understand," Baker told him, moving his lips carefully.
Worm reared backward, holding his hands before him like claws. His lips
wrinkled back into a sneer, and he squinted his eyes and began to squeak.
"Myss," he said again, crawling around the room on all fours. Then he
looked at Baker for understanding.
"Mice?"
Page 54
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Worm nodded excitedly, then stopped, sadness washing over him again.
"Myss eeght Mawmee."
"Mice eight-?"
Worm made hungry sounds and gnashed his teeth.
Suddenly, Baker understood.
?Ate," he whispered, turning away. "Mice ate his mother. And I bet they
weren't alive when they did it." Baker's guilt came flooding back, and
he grew quiet.
After finishing his dinner, Worm produced a small, brightly colored
rubber ball from his pocket, and began to bounce it on the floor,
catching it in his palm each time. Baker watched until, finally
exhausted, the scientist fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
The nightmares followed him.
The thunderstorms arrived just before dawn, and the two of them awoke to
a world that was as dark as when they had fallen asleep. Worm stared at
the lightning in fascination, unable to hear the thunder that boomed
across the valley with it.
Baker stepped into the parking lot and was drenched within seconds. Fat,
cold raindrops splatted against the blacktop like bugs against a windshield.
Resigned to staying put until the storm passed, Baker
84 took the opportunity to explore the Rest Area. Worm followed eagerly
along behind him.
They raided a vending machine that dispensed bottled water, along with
the rest of the snack machines. Baker paused at a newspaper box; frozen
headlines from a not so distant but bygone era staring back at him. The
President of Palestine warned that his country's economic problems could
destabilize the entire Middle East, while the Israeli army was blocking
aide shipments into the state because of terrorism concerns from the
newly reactive Hezbollah. Phenyalamime, a popular food additive, had
been found to cause cancer. The popular boardwalk at Ocean City,
Maryland had washed away due to beach erosion and global warming
effects. The President was assuring Americans that the Pentagon had not
authorized human cloning, despite what sources were claiming.
And then there was the RHIC, and Baker saw his name in print, along with
Harding's and Powell's.
He moved on.
The restrooms yielded nothing useful, save for some extra rolls of
toilet paper. The lobby sported dozens of tourist attraction fliers and
not much else. A full-color road map hung on one wall, and Baker stopped
to study it. Worm bounced his rubber ball behind him, singing softly.
Baker refused to believe that it was all over. Surely, somebody out
there was still alive, and working on regaining control; reversing the
catastrophe. It was folly to consider mankind extinct.
Page 55
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
So where could he find them?
From where he stood, he was close to many East Coast hubs. Philadelphia,
Pittsburgh, Baltimore, New York City, and the nation's capitol were all
within five or six hours driving distance. But these major metropolitan
areas had such high population areas, that they would be virtual death
traps.
Baker ran a dirty finger down the map, frowning. It
85 seemed best to continue south into Pennsylvania, possibly crossing
over into Maryland or Virginia. He traced the blue highway line.
Harrisburg, while small, had a large urban population and would present
the same problems. York and Hanover might be feasible. Although they had
dense populations, both were surrounded by miles of rural communities
and uninhabited farmlands and forests. The local governments in these
areas could have kept up a fight, possibly barricading themselves
against the enemy.
Farther south, just beyond Hanover, his finger stopped on Gettysburg.
More than just a Civil War memorial, Gettysburg was near Camp David, and
was rumored to be the location of something called "the underground
Pentagon." Baker had earned himself friends in both congress and the
military over the years, and his own security clearance was quite
substantial. He knew things-things the public didn't know.
Things like the fact that in the case of a war or a crippling terrorist
attack, several of the country's leaders would be shuttled to a location
in Gettysburg, where they'd be safeguarded while they did what was
necessary to get the country operational again.
If there was any semblance of order left, the closest place to find it
would be Gettysburg. They could take the turnpike southward, skirting
only the outskirts of Harrisburg, then on to York, where they could lose
themselves in the countryside and travel through the less populated back
roads to Gettysburg.
He nodded to himself, convinced it was a good plan.
Of course, they could be killed at any time along the way. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Baker guessed. Judging by his facial features and deformities, the boy
suffered from some form of retardation. Baker couldn't determine what type.
"Thank you," Baker nodded, smiling gently.
"Ellkohm!"
Welcome, perhaps?
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Baker turned away to lay the rag on the sink, asking "My name is
Professor Baker. What's yours?"
82 The boy made no reply. Baker looked back over his shoulder. The boy
peered up at him curiously.
"Ellkohm!" he cheered again.
"What's your name, my friend?" Baker asked. The boy stared at his lips,
brow knitted in concentration. He shook his head in frustration, and
continued staring, waiting for Baker to repeat himself.
He's reading my lips! He's deaf!
Baker knelt before him on the floor, forming his words carefully.
"My name is Baker," he pointed to his chest. "What is your name?"
Understanding flickered in the boy's eyes and he clapped.
"Wohrm!" he chirped, poking a thumb at himself.
"Worm?" Baker queried. The boy nodded gleefully, and then pointed at Baker.
"Baykhar?"
"Yes, Baker." He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed. "It
is very nice to meet you, Worm."
"Nyyyz to eeet oo!" Worm agreed.
Baker laughed, his tears and guilt forgotten for a moment.
Baker shared his vending machine spoils with his new companion.
Conversation was nonexistent, save for Worm's delighted grunts as he
devoured the candy bars. He whistled and hooted in enjoyment, and Baker
grinned.
How had he survived, alone and without guidance? Baker had no way of
knowing.
He tapped Worm on the shoulder. The boy looked at him expectantly.
"Where are your parents?"
Worm's glance fell to his lap, a shadow passing
83 beneath his soulful brown eyes.
"Mmm-myss," he stammered. "Myss eeght Mawmee."
"I don't understand," Baker told him, moving his lips carefully.
Worm reared backward, holding his hands before him like claws. His lips
wrinkled back into a sneer, and he squinted his eyes and began to squeak.
"Myss," he said again, crawling around the room on all fours. Then he
looked at Baker for understanding.
"Mice?"
Page 54
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Worm nodded excitedly, then stopped, sadness washing over him again.
"Myss eeght Mawmee."
"Mice eight-?"
Worm made hungry sounds and gnashed his teeth.
Suddenly, Baker understood.
?Ate," he whispered, turning away. "Mice ate his mother. And I bet they
weren't alive when they did it." Baker's guilt came flooding back, and
he grew quiet.
After finishing his dinner, Worm produced a small, brightly colored
rubber ball from his pocket, and began to bounce it on the floor,
catching it in his palm each time. Baker watched until, finally
exhausted, the scientist fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
The nightmares followed him.
The thunderstorms arrived just before dawn, and the two of them awoke to
a world that was as dark as when they had fallen asleep. Worm stared at
the lightning in fascination, unable to hear the thunder that boomed
across the valley with it.
Baker stepped into the parking lot and was drenched within seconds. Fat,
cold raindrops splatted against the blacktop like bugs against a windshield.
Resigned to staying put until the storm passed, Baker
84 took the opportunity to explore the Rest Area. Worm followed eagerly
along behind him.
They raided a vending machine that dispensed bottled water, along with
the rest of the snack machines. Baker paused at a newspaper box; frozen
headlines from a not so distant but bygone era staring back at him. The
President of Palestine warned that his country's economic problems could
destabilize the entire Middle East, while the Israeli army was blocking
aide shipments into the state because of terrorism concerns from the
newly reactive Hezbollah. Phenyalamime, a popular food additive, had
been found to cause cancer. The popular boardwalk at Ocean City,
Maryland had washed away due to beach erosion and global warming
effects. The President was assuring Americans that the Pentagon had not
authorized human cloning, despite what sources were claiming.
And then there was the RHIC, and Baker saw his name in print, along with
Harding's and Powell's.
He moved on.
The restrooms yielded nothing useful, save for some extra rolls of
toilet paper. The lobby sported dozens of tourist attraction fliers and
not much else. A full-color road map hung on one wall, and Baker stopped
to study it. Worm bounced his rubber ball behind him, singing softly.
Baker refused to believe that it was all over. Surely, somebody out
there was still alive, and working on regaining control; reversing the
catastrophe. It was folly to consider mankind extinct.
Page 55
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
So where could he find them?
From where he stood, he was close to many East Coast hubs. Philadelphia,
Pittsburgh, Baltimore, New York City, and the nation's capitol were all
within five or six hours driving distance. But these major metropolitan
areas had such high population areas, that they would be virtual death
traps.
Baker ran a dirty finger down the map, frowning. It
85 seemed best to continue south into Pennsylvania, possibly crossing
over into Maryland or Virginia. He traced the blue highway line.
Harrisburg, while small, had a large urban population and would present
the same problems. York and Hanover might be feasible. Although they had
dense populations, both were surrounded by miles of rural communities
and uninhabited farmlands and forests. The local governments in these
areas could have kept up a fight, possibly barricading themselves
against the enemy.
Farther south, just beyond Hanover, his finger stopped on Gettysburg.
More than just a Civil War memorial, Gettysburg was near Camp David, and
was rumored to be the location of something called "the underground
Pentagon." Baker had earned himself friends in both congress and the
military over the years, and his own security clearance was quite
substantial. He knew things-things the public didn't know.
Things like the fact that in the case of a war or a crippling terrorist
attack, several of the country's leaders would be shuttled to a location
in Gettysburg, where they'd be safeguarded while they did what was
necessary to get the country operational again.
If there was any semblance of order left, the closest place to find it
would be Gettysburg. They could take the turnpike southward, skirting
only the outskirts of Harrisburg, then on to York, where they could lose
themselves in the countryside and travel through the less populated back
roads to Gettysburg.
He nodded to himself, convinced it was a good plan.
Of course, they could be killed at any time along the way. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]