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Trout’s mouth felt as if it was filled with burned ashes and bile. In a strained whisper he said, “I gave them to my cameraman.”
“Who is he and where can we find him?”
“Gregory Weinman. Everyone calls him Goat. He’s the one who was taking my standups and streaming them to the Net.”
“Where?”
“He walked out of town just as the Guard were setting up the roadblocks. The last time I spoke with him—before you idiots began jamming all calls—he was at the Starbucks in Bordentown.”
Sam Imura staggered. He took two or three small, aimless steps and almost collapsed against the blackboard on the wall. He put his face in his hands and said, “Jesus save us all.”
“What is it?” snapped Dez. “What’s wrong?”
Boxer went over and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Moonshiner and Shortstop sat down hard on the chairs. Only Gypsy held her ground.
“What’s wrong?” demanded Dez.
“Wrong?” mused Gypsy. “What’s wrong is that we are all totally and completely fucked.”
“I don’t—”
“That’s where the outbreak is,” said Gypsy. “The Air Force dropped fuel-air bombs on the whole area. Bordentown is nothing but a cloud of hot ash.”
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
SUBURBS OF PITTSBURGH
“How we doing, boy?” asked Homer Gibbon.
Goat hoisted a fake smile onto his face. “We’re getting some really great stuff here. I can’t wait to get this onto the Net.”
Homer pursed his lips. In the dark, Goat couldn’t see the blood smeared all over the man. What little there was made it look as if the man was painted in tar. But he stank. At first the car had been filled with the sheared-copper smell of fresh blood, but now it was turning sour as the cells thickened and died. It was like being inside a meat locker with the power off. It took great willpower and a fear of reprisal to keep from vomiting.
“You think they’ll watch it?” asked Homer, sounding a little insecure about it.
A sharp laugh escaped Goat before he could stop it.
“You think that’s funny, boy?” asked Homer in a tone that was abruptly menacing.
“No,” Goat said quickly. “Far from it. I’m pretty sure everyone in the world is going to watch these videos. I don’t think anyone is going to watch anything else.”
Homer looked at him for a long time. “You really think so?”
“Yeah,” said Goat with complete honesty, “I absolutely think so.”
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
STEBBINS LITTLE SCHOOL
STEBBINS, PENNSYLVANIA
“That is not a happy-looking man,” said Billy Trout.
He and Dez stood together watching Captain Sam Imura as he stood on the far end of the room having a mostly one-sided phone conversation. The news that Goat had the drives and that the Starbucks where he was waiting for Trout’s call had been destroyed had hit everyone very hard. Imura stepped aside to call it into his boss—the national security advisor.
Imura had looked pretty defeated at the start of that call, but as the seconds peeled off and fell away, the man’s shoulders slumped. Then Imura straightened and cut a sharp, appraising look at Trout.
“Uh oh,” said Dez.
