Rife1 sees it all and understands it clearly enough. He would love to see how it all comes out, but he's a very busy man; he would like to get out of here before the rest of the Mafia and Ng and Mr. Lee and all those other assholes come after him with their heat-seeking missiles. And there's no time to wait for the gimpy Raven2 to hop3 all the way back. He gives a thumbs up to the pilot and begins climbing the steps into his private jet.
It's daytime. A wall of billowing orange flame grows up silently from the tank farm a mile away, like a time-lapse chrysanthemum4. It is so vast and complicated in its blooming, uncontrolled growth that Rife stops halfway5 up the stairs to watch.
A powerful disturbance6 is moving through the flame, leaving a linear trail in the light, like a cosmic ray fired through a cloud chamber7. By the force of its passage, it leaves behind a shock wave that is clearly visible in the flame, a bright spreading cone8 that is a hundred times larger than the dark source at its apex9: a black bulletlike thing supported on four legs that are churning too fast to be visible. It is so small and so fast that L. Bob Rife would not be able to see it, if it were not headed directly for him.
It is picking its way over a broad tangle10 of open-air plumbing11, the pipes that carry the fuel to the jets, jumping over some obstacles, digging its metallic12 claws into others, tearing them open with the explosive thrust of its legs, igniting their contents with the sparks that fly whenever its feet touch the pavement It gathers its four legs under it, leaps a hundred feet to the top of a buried tank, uses that as a launch pad for another long arcing leap over the chain link fence that separates the fuel installation from the airport proper, and then it settles into a long, steady, powerful lope, accelerating across the perfect geometric plane of the runway, chased by a long tongue of flame that extends lazily from the middle of the conflagration13, whorling inward upon itself as it traces the currents in the Rat Thing's aftershock.
Something tells L. Bob Rife to get away from the jet, which is loaded with fuel. He turns and half jumps, half falls off the stairs, moving clumsily because he's looking at the Rat Thing, not at the ground.
The Rat Thing, just a tiny dark thing close to the ground, visible only by virtue14 of its shadow against the flames, and by the chain of white sparks where its claws dig into the pavement, makes a tiny correction in its course.
It's not headed for the jet; it's headed for him. Rife changes his mind and runs up the stairway, taking the steps three at a time. The stairway flexes15 and recoils16 under his weight, reminding him of the jet's fragility.
The pilot has seen it coming, doesn't wait to retract17 the stairway before he releases the brakes and sends the jet taxiing down the runway, swinging the nose away from the Rat Thing. He punches the throttles18, nearly throwing the jet onto one wing as it whips around in a tight curve, and redlines the engines as soon as he sees the center line of the runway. Now they can only see forward and sideways. They can't see what is chasing them.
Y.T. is the only person who can see it happen. Having easily penetrated19 airport security with her Kourier pass, she is coasting onto the apron20 near the cargo21 terminal. From here, she has an excellent view across half a mile of open runway, and she sees it all happen: the plane roars down the runway, hauling its door closed as it goes, shooting pale blue flames out its engine nozzles, trying to build up speed for takeoff, and Fido chases it down like a dog going after a fat mailman, makes one final tremendous leap into the air and, turning himself into a Sidewinder missile, flies nose-first into the tailpipe of its left engine.
The jet explodes about ten feet off the ground, catching22 Fido and L. Bob Rife and his virus all together in its fine, sterilizing23 flame.
How sweet!
She stays for a while and watches the aftermath: Mafia choppers coming in, doctors jumping out with doc boxes and blood bags and stretchers. Mafia soldiers scurrying24 between the private jets, apparently25 looking for someone. A pizza delivery car takes off from one of the parking areas, tires squealing26, and a Mafia car peels out after it in hot pursuit.
But after a while it gets boring, and so she skates back to the main terminal, under her own power mostly, though she manages to poon a fuel tanker27 for a while.
Mom's waiting for her in her stupid little jellybean car, by the United baggage claim, just like they arranged on the phone. Y.T. opens the door, throws her plank28 into the back seat, and climbs
"Home?" Mom says.
"Yeah, home seems about right."
1 rife | |
adj.(指坏事情)充斥的,流行的,普遍的 | |
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2 raven | |
n.渡鸟,乌鸦;adj.乌亮的 | |
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3 hop | |
n.单脚跳,跳跃;vi.单脚跳,跳跃;着手做某事;vt.跳跃,跃过 | |
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4 chrysanthemum | |
n.菊,菊花 | |
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5 halfway | |
adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途 | |
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6 disturbance | |
n.动乱,骚动;打扰,干扰;(身心)失调 | |
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7 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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8 cone | |
n.圆锥体,圆锥形东西,球果 | |
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9 apex | |
n.顶点,最高点 | |
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10 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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11 plumbing | |
n.水管装置;水暖工的工作;管道工程v.用铅锤测量(plumb的现在分词);探究 | |
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12 metallic | |
adj.金属的;金属制的;含金属的;产金属的;像金属的 | |
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13 conflagration | |
n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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14 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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15 flexes | |
v.屈曲( flex的第三人称单数 );弯曲;(为准备大干而)显示实力;摩拳擦掌 | |
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16 recoils | |
n.(尤指枪炮的)反冲,后坐力( recoil的名词复数 )v.畏缩( recoil的第三人称单数 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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17 retract | |
vt.缩回,撤回收回,取消 | |
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18 throttles | |
n.控制油、气流的阀门( throttle的名词复数 );喉咙,气管v.扼杀( throttle的第三人称单数 );勒死;使窒息;压制 | |
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19 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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20 apron | |
n.围裙;工作裙 | |
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21 cargo | |
n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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22 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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23 sterilizing | |
v.消毒( sterilize的现在分词 );使无菌;使失去生育能力;使绝育 | |
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24 scurrying | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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25 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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26 squealing | |
v.长声尖叫,用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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27 tanker | |
n.油轮 | |
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28 plank | |
n.板条,木板,政策要点,政纲条目 | |
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