dk.coldfire-第38部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

gements；　as　quickly　as　possible　reuniting　the　uninjured　with　friends　or　relatives　who　had　been　transported　to　various　hospitals；　and　passionately　conveying　word　of　loved　ones'　deaths。　Their　horror　and　grief　seemed　as　deep　as　that　of　the　passengers；　and　they　were　shaken　and　remorseful　that　such　a　thing　could　happen　with　one　of　their　planes。　Holly　saw　a　young　woman　in　a　United　jacket　turn　suddenly　and　leave　the　room　in　tears；　and　all　the　others；　men　and　women　alike；　were　pale　and　shaky。　She　found　herself　wanting　to　console　them；　put　an　arm　around　them　and　tell　them　that　even　the　best…built　and　best…maintained　machines　were　doomed　to　fail　sooner　or　later　because　human　knowledge　was　imperfect　and　darkness　was　loose　in　the　world。　
　Courage；　dignity；　and　passion　were　so　universally　in　evidence　under　such　trying　circumstances　that　Holly　was　dismayed　by　the　full…scale　arrival　of　the　media。　She　knew　that　dignity；　at　least；　would　be　an　early　victim　of　their　assault。　To　be　fair；　they　were　only　doing　their　job；　the　problems　and　pressures　of　which　she　knew　too　well。　But　the　percentage　of　reporters　who　could　perform　their　work　properly　was　no　greater　than　the　percentage　of　plumbers　who　were　petent　or　the　percentage　of　carpenters　who　could　miter　a　doorframe　perfectly　every　time。　The　difference　was　that　unfeeling；　inept；　or　downright　hostile　reporters　could　cause　their　subjects　considerable　embarrassment　and；　in　some　cases；　malign　the　innocent　and　permanently　damage　reputations；　which　was　a　lot　worse　than　a　backed…up　drain　or　mismatched　pieces　of　wood　molding。　
　The　whole　spectrum　of　TV；　radio；　and　print　journalists　swarmed　into　the　airport　and　soon　penetrated　even　those　areas　where　their　presence　was　normally　restricted。　Some　were　respectful　of　the　survivors'　emotional　and　mental　condition；　but　most　of　them　badgered　the　United　employees　about　〃responsibility〃　and　〃moral　obligation；〃　or　hounded　the　survivors　to　reveal　their　innermost　fears　and　relive　the　recent　horror　for　the　delectation　of　news　consumers。　Though　Holly　knew　the　drill　and　was　expert　at　fending　them　off；　she　was　asked　the　same　question　half　a　dozen　times　by　four　different　reporters　within　fifteen　minutes：　〃How　did　you　feel？〃　How　did　you　feel　when　you　heard　it　might　be　a　crash　landing？　How　did　you　feel　when　you　thought　you　were　going　to　die？　How　did　you　feel　when　you　saw　that　some　of　those　around　you　had　died？　Finally；　cornered　near　a　large　observation　window　that　looked　out　on　arriving　and　departing　flights；　she　blew　up　at　an　eager　and　expensively　coiffured　CNN　reporter　named　Anlock；　who　simply　could　not　understand　that　she　was　unflattered　by　his　attentions。　〃Ask　me　what　I　saw；　or　ask　me　what　I　think；〃　she　told　him。　〃Ask　me　who；　what；　where；　why；　and　how；　but　for　God's　sake　don't　ask　me　how　I　feel；　because　if　you're　a　human　being　you've　got　to　know　how　I　feel。　If　you　have　any　empathy　at　all　for　the　human　condition；　you've　got　to　know。〃　
　Anlock　and　his　cameraman　tried　to　back　off；　move　on　to　other　prey。　
　She　was　aware　that　most　of　the　people　in　the　crowded　room　had　turned　to　see　what　the　motion　was　about；　but　she　didn't　care。　She　was　not　going　to　let　Anlock　off　that　easily。　She　stayed　with　him：　〃You　don't　want　facts；　you　just　want　drama；　you　want　blood　and　thunder；　you　want　people　to　bare　their　souls　to　you；　then　you　edit　what　they　say；　change　it；　misreport　it；　get　it　all　wrong　most　of　the　time；　and　that's　a　kind　of　rape；　damn　it。〃　
　She　realized　that　she　was　in　the　grip　of　the　same　rage　she　had　experienced　at　the　crash　site；　and　that　she　was　not　half　as　angry　at　Anlock　as　she　was　at　God；　futile　as　that　might　be。　The　reporter　was　just　a　more　convenient　target　than　the　Almighty；　who　could　stay　hidden　in　some　shadowy　corner　of　His　heaven。　She'd　thought　her　anger　had　subsided；　she　was　disconcerted　to　find　that　same　black　fury　welling　high　within　her　again。　
　She　was　over　the　top；　out　of　control；　and　she　didn't　care…until　she　realized　CNN　was　on　the　air　live。　A　predatory　glint　in　Anlock's　eyes　and　a　twist　of　irony　in　his　expression　alerted　her　that　he　was　not　entirely　dismayed　by　her　outburst。　She　was　giving　him　good　color；　first…rate　drama；　and　he　could　not　resist　using　it　even　if　he　was　the　object　of　her　abuse。　
　Later；　of　course；　he　would　magnanimously　excuse　her　behavior　to　viewer；　insincerely　sympathizing　with　the　emotional　trauma　she　had　endured；　thus　ing　off　as　a　fearless　reporter　and　a　passionate　guy。　
　Furious　with　herself　for　playing　into　his　game　when　she　should　have　known　that　only　the　reporter　ever　wins；　Holly　turned　from　the　camera　men　as　she　walked　away；　she　heard　Anlock　saying；　〃。　。　。　quite　understandable；　of　course；　given　what　the　poor　woman　has　just　been　through。　。　。〃　
　She　wanted　to　go　back　and　smash　him　in　the　face。　And　wouldn't　that　please　him！　What's　wrong　with　you；　Thorne？　she　demanded　of　herself　You　never　lose　it。　Not　like　this。　You　never　lose　it；　but　now　you're　definitely；　absolutely　losing　it。　
　Trying　to　ignore　the　reporters　and　suppress　her　sudden　interest　in　s　analysis；　she　went　looking　for　Jim　Ironheart　again　but　still　had　no　luck　locating　him。　He　was　not　among　the　latest　group　arriving　from　the　crash　site。　None　of　the　United　employees　could　find　his　name　on　the　passenger　roster；　which　did　not　exactly　surprise　Holly。　
　She　figured　he　was　still　in　the　field；　assisting　the　search…and…rescue　team　in　whatever　way　he　could。　She　was　eager　to　speak　with　him；　but　she　would　have　to　be　patient。　
　Although　some　of　the　reporters　were　wary　of　her　after　the　way　she　verbally　assaulted　Anlock；　she　knew　how　to　manipulate　her　own　kind。　
　Sipping　from　a　Styrofoam　cup　of　bitter　black　coffee…as　if　she　needed　caffeine　to　improve　her　edgeshe　drifted　around　the　room　and　into　the　hall　outside；　pumping　them　without　revealing　that　she　was　one　of　them；　and　she　was　able　to　obtain　bits　of　interesting　information。　
　Among　other　things；　she　discovered　that　two　hundred　survivors　were　already　accounted　for；　and　that　the　death　toll　was　unlikely　to　exceed　fifty；　a　miraculously　loa　number　of　fatalities；　considering　the　breakup　of　the　plane　and　the　subsequent　fire。　She　should　have　been　exhilarated　by　that　good　news；　for　it　meant　Jim's　intervention　had　permitted　the　captain　to　save　many　more　lives　than　fate　had　intended；　but　instead　of　rejoicing；　she　brooded　about　those　who；　in　spite　of　everything；　had　been　lost。　
　She　also　learned　that　members　of　the　flight　crew；　all　of　whom　survived；　were　hoping　to　find　a　passenger　who　had　been　a　great　help　to　them；　a　man　described　as　〃Jim　Something；　sort…of　a…Kevin…Costner…lookalike　with　very　blue　eyes。〃　Because　the　first　federal　officials　to　arrive　on　the　scene　were　also　eager　to　talk　to　Jim　Something；　the　media　began　looking　for　him　as　well。　
　Gradually　Holly　realized　that　Jim　would　not　be　putting　in　an　appearance。　
　He　would　fade；　just　as　he　always　did　after　one　of　his　exploits；　moving　quickly　beyond　the　reach　of　reporters　and　officialdom　of　all　stripes。　
　Jim　was　the　only　name　for　him　that　they　would　ever　have。　
　Holly　was　the　first　person；　at　the　site　of　one　of　his　rescues；　to　whom　he　had　given　his　full　name。　She　frowned；　wondering　why　he　had　chosen　to　reveal　more　to　her　than　to　anyone　else。　
　Outside　the　door　of　the　nearest　women's　restroom；　she　encountered　Christine　Dubrovek；　who　returned　her　purse　and　asked　about　Steve　Harkman；　never　realizing　that　he　was　the　mysterious　Jim　after　whom　everyone　else　was　inquiring。　
　〃He　had　to　be　in　Chicago　this　evening；　no　matter　what；　so　he's　already　rented　a　car　and　left；〃　Holly　lied。　
　〃I　wanted　to　thank　him　again；〃　Christine　said。　〃But　I　guess　I'll　have　to　wait　until　we're　both　back　in　Los　Angeles。　He　works　in　the　same　pany　as　my　husband；　you　know。〃　
　Casey；　close　at　her　mother's　side；　had　scrubbed　the　soot　off　her　face　and　bed　her　hair。　She　was　eating　a　chocolate　bar；　but　she　did　not　appear　to　be　enjoying　it。　
　As　soon　as　she　could；　Holly　excused　herself　and　returned　to　the　emergency…assistance　center　that　United　had　established　in　a　corner　of　the　VIP　lounge。　She　tried　to　arrange　for　a　flight　that；　regardless　of　the　number　of　connections；　would　return　her　to　Los　Angeles　that　night。　
　But　Dubuque　was　not　exactly　the　hub　of　the　universe；　and　all　seats　to　anywhere　in　southern　California　were　already　booked。　The　best　she　could　do　was　a　flight　to　Denver　in　the　morning；　followed　by　a　noon　flight　from　Denver　to　LAX。　
　United　arranged　overnight　lodging　for　her；　and　at　six　o'clock；　Holly　found　herself　alone　in　a　clean　but　cheerless　room　at　the　Best　Western　Midway　Motor　Lodge。　Maybe　it　was　not　really　so　cheerless；　in　her　current　state　of　mind；　she　would　not　have　been　capable　of　appreciating　a　suite　at　the　Ritz。　
　She　called　her　parents　in　Philadelphia　to　let　them　know　she　was　safe；　in　case　they　had　seen　her　on　CNN　or　spotted　her　name　among　a　list　of　Flight　246　survivors　in　tomorrow's　newspaper。　
　They　were　happily　unaware　of　her　close　call；　but　they　insisted　on　whipping　up　a　prime　case　of　retrospective　fright。　She　found　herself　consoling　them；　instead　of　the　other　way　around；　which　was　touching　because　it　confirmed　how　much　they　loved　her。　〃I　don't　care　how　important　this　story　is　you're　working　on；〃　her　mother　said；　〃you　can　take　a　bus　the　rest　of　the　way；　and　a　bus　home。〃