'My sense of humor is rapidly deteriorating.'
'It's not his fault,' Garth said seriously. 'He turns out to be a better man than I gave him credit for. After all, he stayed in the department after I turned him in, took the heat and his demotion, and then worked his way back up.'
'Oh, terrific. It's just too bad that he never got around to working his way up here.'
'He was afraid, Mongo-and probably with good reason. If he had tried to make any kind of serious move on investigating Nuvironment, Patton would have crushed him. In the end, he probably would have lost his pension-and for nothing. He couldn't have cracked this thing.'
I was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous, and I closed my eyes. 'We did give it our best shot, didn't we?' I said, and groaned. It was becoming painful to talk.
'Yes.'
As if sensing that before long neither of us would be able to talk at all, we changed the subject of our helplessness in the face of our impending deaths, and the deaths of millions of others. We reminisced about the past, our growing up together, past perils, our good times together, and finally, our love for each other. Then I slept, or passed out. I woke up, or dreamed that I woke up, then slept, or dreamed that I slept, or passed out again. Occasionally I would hear Garth's voice calling to me, as if from a great distance, but I couldn't respond, and I knew I was dying.
13
THEN I woke up again-and I knew it wasn't a dream. Thick mucus was clogging my nostrils, running down my chin, dripping down the back of my throat and choking me. I was sucking in meager amounts of air in great, labored breaths. The muscles in my arms and legs were rapidly twitching in spasms, and felt like they were on fire. All of me felt on fire, and I knew it was fever raging in me. I was very conscious of my heart, which felt like a small, hard thing about the size of a golf ball pumping and burning in the center of my chest.
Something had woken me up.
I turned my head to look at Garth. He was very pale, his face knotted in pain, but he was conscious. He licked his dry lips, swallowed hard. 'There's someone downstairs,' he croaked. 'Hang in there, Mongo. Don't die on me.'
Garth had certainly piqued my interest enough to make me straighten up and take notice, at least in my head. But I didn't hear anything but the pounding of my own heart in my ears. I decided that Garth was delirious, and I was about to let myself slip back into the merciful oblivion of unconsciousness when the door across the room slammed open and Patrolman Frank Palorino, in full riot gear, burst through at an angle to his right, dropped to one knee, and swept his semiautomatic rifle around the room as another patrolman, similarly outfitted, darted in and dropped to a similar stance at Palorino's left flank. Seeing that Garth and I were the only occupants in the room, Palorino abruptly stood, shouted something that I couldn't understand into his walkie-talkie, then hurried across the room to me as the second patrolman went to Garth.
'You have another little accident, Mongo?' the stubble-faced policeman said wryly as, supporting me with his left arm around my waist, he proceeded to undo the buckles on the straps binding my wrists. I collapsed over his shoulder, and he went to work freeing my ankles. 'Shit, buddy, you're burning up with fever. But you're going to be all right. We'll get you to a hospital just as soon as this fucking blizzard lets up.'
Palorino gently laid me down on the floor, next to my brother, just as a team of three paramedics rushed into the room, knelt down beside us, and began unpacking their leather bags. Everything above me was a blur of hands and faces. I felt my feet being raised and propped up, and, mercifully, my pounding heartbeat began to slow. I kept wanting to close my eyes and go to sleep, but knew that I couldn't until either Garth or I had told the police what we knew. Malachy McCloskey, dressed in a blue parka over a bulletproof vest, drifted in and out of focus as he hovered over us. His pockmarked face was gray, his brows knitted in concern. Somebody raised my head, and I gulped greedily at a cup of tepid water that tasted slightly salty. This was followed by another liquid that also tasted salty, but was more substantial, like chicken noodle soup with a kick. One of the paramedics rolled up my sleeve and started to slide a needle into a vein. I winced and tried to pull away, but the woman held me tightly. Then a hand which I recognized as my brother's came into my field of vision, gripped the woman's wrist, and pulled the needle away. Then Garth was on his knees beside me, talking to the startled paramedic.
'Don't give either of us anything that will put us to sleep,' Garth said in a weak but clear voice. 'Get me to a phone. I have to call somebody in Washington right away. It's very important.'
'You can't call next door, much less Washington,' Frank Palorino said, shaking his head. 'The phones went out three hours ago, and New York Telephone has no idea when they're going to be working again. But don't you worry about-'
'You don't understand,' Garth said curtly, his voice already growing stronger.
My brother held out his hand to me. I gripped it and pulled myself up to a sitting position. From there we both got to our feet, and I was vaguely surprised when I managed to stay up on mine. I wasn't quite ready to run any marathons, but I was feeling better, despite the fever in me. The paramedic who'd tried to give me a needle held out another cup. I took it and drank; more of the chicken noodle soup with a kick. I cleared my throat, managed a weak, 'Thank you.'
McCloskey stepped up to us. Now that we were up and about, the furrow in his brow was gone, and there was just the trace of a smirk on his face. 'Well, well, well,' he said in the tone of voice of a man who was savoring a triumph. 'It looks like the famous Fredericksons needed a little help to get out of this scrape, doesn't it? We found what was left of those two cars down by the river. When Frank told me what had happened, and when we couldn't find the two of you, I figured it was time to exert a little individual initiative. When I found out Nuvironment's phone had been disconnected, I figured that was sufficient reason to go up there; when we found Patton's body, I figured that was sufficient reason, despite the weather, to hustle up here and take a look around. To tell you the truth, it really surprised me how much I was worried about you two.' He paused, and his smirk became full blown. 'That was kind of lucky for the famous Fredericksons, huh?'
'You misread the situation, Lieutenant,' I wheezed. 'We were just getting ready to escape when you all came in and spoiled it.' I paused to drink some more chicken soup, continued, 'Thanks, McCloskey. Now, we've got us a big prob-'
'What the hell is that?' McCloskey interrupted, pointing to the apparatus up on the platform behind us.
'A hydrogen bomb,' Garth said. 'What's the day and time?'
'A what?'
'A hydrogen bomb,' Garth repeated evenly. 'You'll need specialists to deactivate it, probably federal people. Make damn sure they know what they're doing, because if they don't, and they make a mistake, Manhattan and most of the other boroughs are going to end up nothing more than one very large hole in the ground.'
Palorino, the other policeman, and the three paramedics took a step backward, but McCloskey seemed rooted to the ground, staring up at the steel frame and enclosed cylinder with eyes wide and mouth open.
'Lieutenant,' I said, looking around in vain for some sign of my sneakers, 'what's the day and time?'
'Holy shit,' McCloskey said. 'Are you kidding me?'
'No, Lieutenant,' I replied, and wearily sank back down on the floor.
Garth stepped up to the police detective, gently shook his shoulder. 'What's the day and time, McCloskey?'
McCloskey, face pale and eyes even wider, turned to look at Garth. 'That really is a-?'
'Yes, damn it! What's the-?!'
'It's Thursday, about three in the morning,' McCloskey said in a hollow voice.
Less than twenty-four hours. That got me back up on my feet. Frank Palorino reached for my arm, but I shook him off. 'We can't wait on the telephone company,' I said, looking at Garth, who nodded in agreement. 'And you can't wait for the feds to deactivate that thing. Have your best people get up here to look at it; it may be just a radio receiving antenna that has to be disconnected.'
'We have people who can do that,' Palorino said tightly. 'When is it set to go off, Mongo?'
'Midnight-tonight. None of you guys saw or picked up a pair of sneakers on your way up here, did you?'
