wt.theyearofthequietsun-第20节

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！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


y　minutes　before。　Small　surprise。　His　suit　had　been　cleaned　and　pressed　and　was　now　hanging　in　a　paper　sheath　provided　by　the　dry　cleaner。　Next　to　his　were　similar　packages　belonging　to　Moresby　and　Saltus。　His　name　was　written　across　the　sheath　and　he　recognized　the　woman's　handwriting。　He　was　first　in：　seniority。
　　Chaney　ripped　away　the　paper　and　dressed　quickly；　aware　of　the　chill　in　the　room。　The　white　shirt　he　found　in　the　locker　was　a　new　one　and　he　looked　with　some　interest　at　the　wavy；　patterned　collar。　Style；　1980。　The　sheath　was　jammed　back　into　the　locker　as　a　mocking　message。
　　Leaving　the　vehicle　room；　Chaney　strode　down　the　well…lighted　corridor　to　the　fallout　shelter；　conscious　of　the　cameras　watching　his　every　step。　The　basement；　the　entire　building；　was　cloaked　in　silence；　the　lab　engineers　would　avoid　contact　with　him　as　he　must　avoid　them…but　they　had　the　advantage：　they　could　examine　a　quaint　specimen　from　two　years　in　the　past　while　he　could　only　speculate　on　who　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　wall。　Their　door　was　shut。　Chaney　pushed　the　shelter　door　open　and　the　overhead　lights　flashed　on　in　automatic　response。　The　room　was　empty　of　life。
　　Another　clock　above　a　workbench　read　8：01。
　　Chaney　strode　into　the　shelter　to　stop；　turn；　stare；　inspect　everything　open　to　his　gaze。　Except　for　a　few　new　objects　on　the　workbench　the　room　was　precisely　the　same　as　he'd　last　seen　it；　a　day　or　two　before。　He　was　expected。　Three　tape　recorders　had　been　removed　from　the　stores　and　set　out　on　the　bench；　along　with　an　unopened　box　of　fresh　tape；　two　still　cameras　designed　to　be　worn　over　the　shoulder　were　there；　together　with　a　motion　picture　camera　for　Arthur　Saltus　and　new　film　for　all　three　instruments。　Three　long　envelopes　rested　atop　the　cameras；　and　again　he　recognized　Katrina's　handwriting。
　　Chaney　tore　his　open；　hoping　to　find　a　personal　note；　but　it　was　curiously　cool　and　impersonal。　The　envelope　gave　up　a　gate　pass　and　identification　papers　bearing　the　date；　6　November　1980。　A　small　photograph　of　his　face　was　affixed　to　the　identification。　The　brief　note　advised　him　not　to　carry　arms　off　the　station。
　　He　said　aloud：　〃Saltus；　you've　shut　me　out！〃　This　evidence　suggested　the　woman　had　made　a　choice　in　the　intervening　two　years…unless　he　was　imagining　things。
　　Chaney　prepared　himself　for　the　outside。　He　found　a　heavy　coat　and　a　rakish　cap　in　the　stores　that　were　good　fits；　then　armed　himself　with　camera；　recorder；　nylon　film　and　tape。　He　took　from　a　money　box　what　he　thought　would　be　an　adequate　supply　of　cash　（there　was　a　shiny　new　dime　and　several　quarters　bearing　the　date　1980；　the　portraits　on　the　coins　had　not　been　changed）；　and　a　drawer　yielded　a　pen　and　notebook；　and　a　flashlight　that　worked。　A　last　careful　survey　of　the　room　suggested　nothing　else　that　would　be　useful　to　him；　and　he　made　ready　to　leave。
　　A　clock　told　8：14。
　　Chaney　scrawled　a　quick　note　op　the　back　of　his　torn　envelope　and　propped　it　against　the　motion　picture　camera：　Arrived　early　for　a　swim。　Will　look　for　you　laggards　in　town。　Protons　are　perfidious。
　　He　stuffed　the　ID　papers　in　his　pocket　and　quit　the　shelter。　The　corridor　was　as　silent　and　empty　as　before。　Chaney　climbed　the　stairway　to　the　operations　door　and　stopped　with　no　surprise　to　read　a　painted　sign。
　　
　　
　　　DO　NOT　CARRY　WEAPONS　BEYOND　THIS　DOOR。　FEDERAL
　　　LAW　PROHIBITS　THE　POSSESSION　OF　FIREARMS
　　　BY　ALL　EXCEPT　LAW　ENFORCEMENT　OFFICERS；　AND
　　　MILITARY　PERSONNEL　ON　ACTIVE　DUTY。　DISARM
　　　BEFORE　EXITING。
　　
　　Chaney　fitted　two　keys　into　the　twin　locks　and　shoved。　A　bell　rang　somewhere　behind　him。　The　operations　door　rolled　easily　on　rolamite　tracks。　He　stepped　outside　into　the　chill　of　1980。　The　time　was　8：19　on　a　bleak　November　morning　and　there　was　a　sharp　promise　of　snow　in　the　air。
　　
　　
　　He　recognized　one　of　the　three　automobiles　parked　in　the　lot　beyond　the　door：　it　was　the　same　car　Major　Moresby　had　driven　a　short　while　ago…or　two　years　ago…when　he　hustled　Chaney　and　Saltus　from　the　pool　to　the　lab。　The　keys　were　in　the　ignition　lock。　Walking　to　the　rear　of　the　vehicle；　he　stared　for　a　moment　at　the　red　and　white　license　plate　to　convince　himself　he　was　where　he　was　supposed　to　be：　Illinois　1980。　Two　other　automobiles　parked　beyond　the　first　one　appeared　to　be　newer；　but　the　only　visible　change　in　their　design　appeared　to　be　fancy　grills　and　wheel　caps。　So　much　for　nubile　taste　and　Detroit　pandering。
　　Chaney　didn't　enter　the　car　immediately。
　　Moving　warily；　half　fearful　of　an　unexpected　meeting；　he　circled　the　laboratory　building　to　reconnoiter。　Nothing　seemed　changed。　The　installation　was　just　as　he　remembered　it：　the　streets　and　sidewalks　well　repaired　and　clean…policed　daily　by　the　troops　on　station…the　lawns　carefully　tended　and　prepared　for　the　approach　of　winter；　the　trees　now　bare　of　foliage。　The　heavy　front　door　was　closed　and　the　familiar　black　and　yellow　fallout　shelter　sign　still　hung　above　it。　There　was　no　guard　on　duty。　On　an　impulse；　Chaney　tried　the　front　door　but　found　it　locked…and　that　was　a　mentary　of　some　kind　on　the　usefulness　of　the　fallout　shelter　below。　He　continued　his　inspection　tour　all　the　way　around　again　to　the　parking　lot。
　　Something　was　changed　behind　the　lot。
　　Chaney　eyed　the　space　for　a　moment　and　then　recognized　the　difference。　What　had　been　nothing　more　than　a　wide　expanse　of　lawn　two　years　ago　was　now　a　flower　garden；　the　flowers　were　wilted　with　the　nearness　of　winter　and　many　of　the　dead　blossoms　and　vines　had　been　cleared　away；　but　in　the　intervening　two　years　someone…Katrina？…had　caused　a　garden　to　be　planted　in　an　otherwise　empty　plot　of　grass。
　　Chaney　left　a　sign　for　Major　Moresby。　He　placed　a　shiny　new　quarter　on　the　concrete　sill　of　the　locked　door。　A　moment　later　he　turned　the　key　in　the　ignition　and　drove　off　toward　the　main　gate。
　　The　gatehouse　was　lighted　on　the　inside　and　occupied　by　an　officer　and　two　enlisted　men　in　the　usual　MP　uniforms。　The　gate　itself　was　shut　but　not　locked。　Beyond　it；　the　black…topped　road　stretched　away　into　the　distance；　aiming　for　the　highway　and　the　distant　city。　A　white　line　had　been　newly　painted…or　repainted…down　the　center　of　the　road。
　　〃Are　you　going　off　station；　sir？〃
　　Chaney　turned；　startled　by　the　sudden　question。　The　officer　had　emerged　from　the　gatehouse。
　　He　said：　〃I'm　going　into　town。〃
　　〃Yes；　sir。　May　I　see　your　pass　and　identification？〃
　　Chaney　passed　over　his　papers。　The　officer　read　them　twice　and　studied　the　photograph　affixed　to　the　ID。
　　〃Are　you　carrying　weapons；　sir？　Are　there　any　weapons　in　the　car？〃
　　〃No；　to　both。〃
　　〃Very　good；　sir。　Remember　that　Joliet　has　a　six　o'clock　curfew；　you　must　be　free　of　the　city　limits　before　that　hour　or　make　arrangements　to　stay　overnight。〃
　　〃Six　o'clock；〃　Chaney　repeated。　〃I'll　remember。　Is　it　the　same　in　Chicago？〃
　　〃Yes；　sir。〃　The　officer　stared　at　him。　〃But　you　can't　enter　Chicago　from　the　south　since　the　wall　went　up。　Sir；　are　you　going　to　Chicago？　I　will　have　to　arrange　for　an　armed　guard。〃
　　〃No…no；　I'm　not　going　there。　I　was　curious。〃
　　〃Very　well；　sir。〃　He　waved　to　a　guard　and　the　gate　was　opened。　〃Six　o'clock；　sir。〃
　　Chaney　drove　away。　His　mind　was　not　on　the　road。
　　The　warning　indicated　that　a　part　of　the　Indic　report　had　correctly　called　the　turn：　the　larger　cities　had　taken　harsh　steps　to　control　the　growing　lawlessness；　and　it　was　likely　that　many　of　them　had　imposed　strict　dusk…to…dawn　curfews。　A　traveler　not　out　of　town　before　dusk　would　need　hotel　acmodations　to　keep　him　off　the　streets。　But　the　reference　to　the　Chicago　wall　puzzled　him。　That　wasn't　foreseen；　nor　remended。　A　wall　to　separate　what　from　what？　Chicago　had　been　a　problem　since　the　migrations　from　the　south　in　the　1950s…but　a　wall？
　　The　winding　private　road　led　him　to　the　highway。　He　pulled　up　to　a　stop　sign　and　waited　for　a　break　in　traffic　on　route　66。　Across　the　highway；　an　officer　in　a　parked　state　patrol　car　eyed　his　license　plate　and　then　glanced　up　to　inspect　his　face。　Chaney　waved；　and　pulled　into　traffic。　The　state　car　did　not　leave　its　position　to　follow　him。
　　A　second　patrol　car　was　parked　at　the　outskirts　of　town；　and　Chaney　noted　with　surprise　that　two　men　in　the　back　seat　appeared　to　be　uniformed　national　guardsmen。　The　bayonet…tipped　rifles　were　visible。　His　face　and　his　license　were　given　the　same　scrutiny　and　their　attention　moved　on　to　the　car　behind　him。
　　He　said　aloud　（but　to　himself）：　〃Honest；　fellas；　I'm　not　going　to　start　a　revolution。〃
　　The　city　seemed　almost　normal。
　　Chaney　found　a　municipal　parking　lot　near　the　middle　of　town　and　had　to　search　for　the　rare　empty　space。　He　was　outraged　to　learn　it　cost　twenty…five　cents　an　hour　to　park；　and　grudgingly　put　two　of　Seabrookc's　quarters　into　the　meter。　A　clerk　sweeping　the　sidewalk　before　a　shuttered　store　front　directed　him　to　the　public　library。
　　He　stood　on　the　steps　and　waited　until　nine　o'clock　for　the　doors　to　open。　Two　city　squad　cars　passed　him　while　he　waited　and　each　of　them　carried　a　guardsman　riding　shotgun　beside　the。；　driver。　They　stared　at　him　and　the　clerk　with　the　broom　and　every　other　pedestrian。
　　An　attendant　in　th