Second Horseman Out of Eden

'Huh?'

'Never mind. Lieutenant, if the phones aren't working, then we have to start right now thinking of how we're going to get to the outskirts of Boise, Idaho. That's where the radio transmitter is located. Unless we can destroy that transmitter, at midnight tonight a signal is going to be relayed from a satellite and at least two other bombs like this one, and maybe more, are going to go off.'

McCloskey, recovered from his initial shock but somehow looking even more stricken, strode stiffly to the end of the room. He grabbed a section of the heavy gray drapes with both hands and yanked. The material tore loose from its fastenings and billowed like a parachute as it fell to the floor. In the faint light spilling from the room out into the night it was possible to see huge flakes of snow swirling in a maelstrom of wind, which could now clearly be heard through the section of thick glass where the drapes had been torn away. The lights in the triplex, I realized, had to be powered by an emergency generator which had automatically kicked in when city power had gone off, for out in the night there was nothing, not a single light to be seen.

'This started yesterday, around six in the evening,' McCloskey said in a tortured voice. 'It's a freak storm that none of the meteorologists predicted; it's only been getting worse, and nobody is really sure when it's going to let up. The last I heard, some of the experts were predicting that it could last another day. People are saying it's the worst blizzard in a century-maybe the worst blizzard we've ever had. It's blanketed the whole east coast. We're under four feet of snow so far, and Washington has five. Nothing's moving, and all communications are out.'

'And yet you came up here looking for us,' Garth said quietly.

McCloskey shrugged, and seemed slightly embarrassed. 'We came over on snowmobiles. I had a notion. I'd tried to call Nuvironment before the storm hit, so you might say that I had the two of you on my mind.' He paused, looked hard at me, continued, 'You're not the only one who was haunted by what was done to Kenecky, Frederickson. I admit I dragged my feet at the beginning; I was afraid of what could happen to me. But then I realized that what I was doing to myself was worse; I was letting you guys do my job for me, and I found I couldn't live with that. I was ashamed-and I wasn't about to keep being ashamed. After all the things you'd said to me, there was no way I was going to pass into retirement with the deaths of the Fredericksons on my conscience. I had to try to make up for lost time. Frank and the others volunteered to come with me.'

'You came up here on your own hook?'

Again, McCloskey shrugged. 'Kind of.'

'Well, Lieutenant, now there's even more to be afraid of. We have to get to the airport-JFK, not La Guardia.'

McCloskey stared at me in disbelief. 'That's impossible,' he said at last. 'Even if there was enough gas in the snowmobiles to get us there-''

Garth said, 'We'll siphon the gas we need from stalled cars along the way.'

'Jesus Christ, Frederickson. Even if we could get out there, what good do you think it would do? Nothing — nothing — can fly out of there. I heard what you said about the transmitter and the other bombs, but making some insane gesture is no answer.' He paused, shook his head in consternation, then pointed to me. 'Your brother could die out there, Frederickson. Look at him; he hasn't even got any fucking shoes!'

Garth moved closer to me and draped an arm across my shoulders. 'I know I can't stop him, McCloskey,' he said evenly, 'and I'm not going to waste my time trying.'

'My brother's right, Lieutenant,' I said, drawing myself up straight. I was glad Garth was next to me, because I felt very faint. 'I'm not going to die of a cold, but a whole lot of people are going to die in nuclear blasts if somebody doesn't shut down that transmitter.'

'But you can't go anywhere, Frederickson. Don't you understand? Nothing can fly in this blizzard. We have no choice but to wait until communications are restored. Then you can make your call to Washington.'

One of the paramedics handed each of us a blanket. Garth draped his over his arm. My teeth had begun to chatter, and I wrapped my blanket around me. I had the distinct impression from the look on Garth's face that he was about to walk out, commandeer a snowmobile, and be on his way. But I felt we needed McCloskey, needed the official power he represented.

'You're the one who doesn't understand, Lieutenant,' I said, deciding that it was up to me to explain Garth's perfectly correct point. 'Do you know when the phones are going to come back on line? You said you didn't. We have about twenty hours to work at getting that transmitter deactivated. It's essential that we keep moving, at all costs, toward that goal; when there's nothing else to be done, that movement has to be physical. We can keep checking on our way. If and when communications are restored in the city, and between here and Washington, then either Garth or I will make two calls. We can make direct contact with the president of the United States, probably, or with the Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency, for sure. Okay? You'll agree that nobody can get things moving faster than either one of those two gentlemen. As much force as is needed will be immediately directed at that site in Idaho, and the transmitter is long gone. But we need a second option in case the storm doesn't let up and we can't make those calls. If we can make it to the airport, and there's a break in the storm, it just might be possible to get into the air. Then somebody, at least, will be on the way to Idaho. The bombs are going off at midnight, Lieutenant. If there's even a chance that we-and maybe only we-can get to the transmitter, can you refuse to try? We've got to be on the move. Time is all-important. Would you like to be five seconds late? One second?'

'Mongo and Garth are right, sir,' Frank Palorino said quietly. 'We've got to go for it, even if it does seem impossible. You coordinate the bomb deactivation here, and Harry and I will take off with these two guys to JFK. Mongo's right about JFK too; if we can get off the ground, we'll need the biggest, fastest plane we can find.'

'I'm going,' McCloskey said tersely.

'You're needed here, Lieutenant,' Garth said. 'If this thing behind us isn't defused properly, New York City and all the people in it, as well as most of the people in the surrounding counties, are gone. Your badge and rank may be needed to get people listening and moving.'

'You'll need my badge and rank at the airport, Frederickson-that is, unless you think you can commandeer and fly an airplane out of there on your own.' He paused, turned to the second patrolman, a very young man who had been listening to our conversation intently with a pale face but firmly set jaw. 'Harry, can you take care of business here?'

The young patrolman named Harry swallowed hard, then took his walkie-talkie from his belt and gripped it so hard that his knuckles turned white. 'I certainly can, sir,' he said in a strong voice. 'I guarantee you I'll get people listening and moving. I've got a wife and two kids living here.'

'Then get to it.'

As the patrolman hurried out of the room, I turned to the female paramedic. 'I need something that will keep me on my feet, maybe for as long as twenty hours. After that, it doesn't matter how hard I crash; I can spend as much time as I need to in a hospital. But now I need to keep moving. Do you understand?'

'Me, too,' Garth said.

The paramedic looked at McCloskey, who nodded. The woman reached into her satchel, removed a hypodermic needle and a transparent plastic bottle filled with large green pills. 'This will reduce your fever for a time,' she said to me, indicating the needle. 'The pills are for both of you.'

'Amphetamines?' I asked.

The woman nodded. 'I'll give you the bottle-but you really have to be careful with them. We use them with some heart attack and shock victims; they're fast-acting, and very potent. The usual dosage is one-not to be followed by another for four to six hours. They'll keep you on your feet, all right-but you're going to pay a heavy price if you take too much of this stuff, or use it for too long.'

'Got it,' I said, taking the bottle from her. I popped open the cap, shook out one of the green pills, and swallowed it as the paramedic rolled up my sleeve, daubed my shoulder with alcohol, then gave me an injection of what I assumed was some antibiotic.

'I'm all right for now,' Garth said, shaking his head when I offered him the bottle. 'I'll take one later if I need it.'

I put the bottle of pills in the pocket of my jeans. Another paramedic had removed two packets from his valise; he gave one to Garth, one to me. I ripped open the plastic and found myself holding what I recognized as one of the silver-colored heat wraps developed by NASA-it was very lightweight, but would have astounding insulating properties.