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ld Allman Brothers； and they had the volume cranked to Brother Greg's moody classic； 〃Midnight Rider。〃
Yeah； man； Drew smiled to himself； nodding in time with the tune。 That's exactly who we are。 We're the fuckin' midnight riders； man。 It gave him a little surge of pride； made him feel real good about himself。
In fact； Drew was feeling fine。 Never better。 They were soaked； but it was great； a warm wind whipping around them； the whole world glowing and pulsing in time with the music。
Boonie was trading air…guitar licks with the late great Brother Duane。 Drew grinned at him and sucked on the joint through his impromptu mask。 It gave him a toothless shadow mouth。 He toked again and sucked the scarf full into his mouth； went bluh bluh bluh through the red cotton maw。 Goddam； but he was funny sometimes。
His lips began to tingle。
The song ended； segued into 〃Riders on the Storm。〃 〃Okay！〃 Boonie hollered。 〃Ready up！ Only thirteen more to go！〃
〃Fuckin' aye！〃 Drew yelled back absently； thinking about his lips。 The tingle was now a slight burning sensation。 It was probably just the dope。 Sometimes Boonie did dumb shit to get high； like cop some lame weed and lace it with crack or dust or whatever he had lying around。 It made you； like； ultra…aware of your senses。 Like the rain； trickling water down his spine。 Like the howl of the wind through the trees； or the throb in his brain from sucking up all those fumes 。。。
〃Ech；〃 Drew spat。 His lips were really burning now； and worse； he could taste it： a bitter； pungent； distinctly chemical flavor。 It stuck pins in the tip of his tongue and tickled at the roof of his mouth。
It was starting to make him nervous。
〃Hey； Spacely Sprocket！〃 Boonie yelled。 〃You gonna give me a hand with this？〃 Drew turned to look at him； the barrel he was angling onto its side。
〃Boonie。〃 The name tasted vile in his mouth； down his throat。 And his eyes were beginning to itch。
〃What？〃 Impatient。
〃Dude； I don't feel so good。〃 He rubbed at his eyes； and the burn redoubled。 〃Ouch！ Sonofabitch！〃 Now his nostrils were burning； and the smell was getting stronger。 〃Something's wrong here； man 。。。 〃
〃Don't get paranoid on me； Drew。 I thought we were havin' fun。〃
〃Yeah； but 。。。 〃
A thunderclap ignited in fiery gray light； directly above their heads。 Drew's bones nearly flew out through his skin； he could feel his nerves jangle and his heartbeat rev。 〃Christ！〃 he yelled； feeling suddenly lightheaded。
The thunderclap faded。
But the gray light remained 。。。
。。。 and that was when they heard the sound： a crackling like ravenous flame； huge as it welled up to bury the silence。 The world's largest wad of cellophane； crinkling slowly in the hand of an angry god。 Black static； edging in from another dimension。
ing up from the water below。
Drew turned to look at Boonie。 Boonie's answering stare was uncharacteristically blank。 What the fuck 。。。 ？ Drew watched him mouth； but the sound refused to carry。 The barrel slipped out of his grasp and thundered to the truck bed on its side。 Drew winced； felt it rather than heard it。
And still the roaring drone persisted； maddening： more liquid than static； the longer he listened。 He turned toward it； staggering for the gate： head muzzy； body voltaged numb。 The roach dropped unnoticed from between his thrumming fingers。
As Drew stared out over the edge。
At the terrible source of the sound。
The fish were trying to get out of the water。 There was no other way to describe it。 They were literally throwing themselves into the air： leaping up and flailing in desperate but fleeting defiance of gravity。 As if they were trying to spontaneously evolve； evolve into birds who could fly off to heaven； evolve into anything that could possibly escape and survive。
No where。
No way。
He watched in horror as the water beneath them began to bubble and churn。 Then the gray light flickered； faded to black。
Behind him； Boonie let out a scream。
Drew turned just in time to see the drum rumbling toward him； picking up speed as it closed on the edge。 It was the one that had slipped from his cousin's grip； but it wasn't the only one moving。
The whole back of the truck was a flurry of jittery motion； the last dozen barrels rocking and shuddering on their bases。 As if something had e alive inside of them。
As if that something wanted out。
Drew barely managed to sidestep the drum as it thundered past him； disappeared over the side。 There was one long； astonishingly pregnant moment of roaring silence。
Then the drum broke the surface； like egg…drilling sperm。
And thus was the new world conceived。
Born of poison raised in poison claiming poison for its own it rose a miracle of raw creation hot black howl of life and death intertwined and converted to some third new option agony blip with an echoing tail so long it seemed to have gone on forever only now the tail was wagging the dog dredging up silt and sewage bursting metal eggshell skins in a riotous shrapnel dance of power surging self…aware gathering mass assassinating shape infesting polluting corrupting in hideous birthday celebration it rose already killing and stared into the face of its maker。
Drew was less than six feet away from the rail when the massive liquid blowback erupted： a solid pillar of displaced fluid that shot from the creek to the peak of Black Bridge in a fraction of a second。 It towered above him and stayed there； impossible： fracturing physics； disemboweling logic。
Coalescing into form。
The creature loomed； not freeze…framed or static but swaying like a wind funnel； an enormous oily serpent。 Against the black sky； it did not look real； but he could feel the incredible life…shredding charge of its presence； pulsating in the air。 It made every hair on his body stand on end in total； mortal terror。
And then the lightning struck； releasing him utterly from his sanity。 In the light； he could see all too clearly the things that suffered and swirled within it。 Could see the rusted struts and rotted shells of the barrels： skeletal； clawing。 Could see the multicolored Rorschach toxins that were its blood and soul。
Could see the hundreds and hundreds of fish： not dead； no longer alive。
All of them staring。 At him。
With new eyes 。。。
Then the lightning decayed； and before he could scream； the black wall descended upon him。
Boonie dove off the side of the truck in the second before it hit。 He was still in the air when several tons went WHOOOM and splattered across its bed。 He couldn't see what happened to Drew。 He didn't need to see to know there was nothing he could do。
Boonie was heavy； and plummeted fast。 He hadn't had time to plot a course。 The railroad tracks came up to meet him； head…on and far too quickly。
He got his arms up and tucked his body enough to keep his neck from snapping； all it cost him was a splintered clavicle and； on the second bounce； some teeth and lip； the two merged together in a wet hard bone…shard buckshot hail that gagged him as he rolled； came up； instinctively assessed the situation。
No motion from the truck； except for the steam curling off the exterior。 The door was still open； the cab was still vacant； the headlights still glared。 Beyond the truck lay Toad Road and escape； the other way just led deeper into the Black Bridge woods。 He could drive one whole hell of a lot faster than he could run。
That pretty much wrapped it up。 Boonie vaulted for the cab； keeping one eye on the railroad ties and the other one peeled for forty…foot monsters。 There was a harsh static crackle in the air that kept getting louder； the closer he got。 It wasn't the sound from the creek； so it didn't mean shit。
It was the radio； he found out when he hit the driver's seat。 Starview 92 had disintegrated into ear…splitting hiss。 Bad sign。 He grabbed the stick and jammed it in gear。 Nothing happened。 He laid on the gas and got dick。
〃GOD DAMN IT！〃 he bellowed； grabbing the keys and grinding the ignition。 〃GO 。。。 ！〃
That was when he noticed the rivulets； moving across the windshield。 Not down。 Across： a lateral； spider…webbing motion； like a hundred liquid tentacles gripping the cab。 He stared in slack…jawed dumbstruck awe as the glass started to steam。 The liquid pressed impossibly against the pane and squeezed。
Boonie dove for the passenger side； grappling with the handle。 All around him； the safety glass starred。 He cracked the door open； started to bail 。。。
。。。 as the windows blew inward： a blinding； razored spray 。。。
。。。 and then he was out the door and running； running for his life； a thousand tiny septic barbs of shrapnel lodged in his face； his hands； his neck and back and legs that tripped on a tie and brought him down； all two hundred and forty…seven pounds of him； shrieking pain as his scar…pitted Frankenstein's former right knee smacked cold steel rail 。。。
。。。 but he couldn't stay down or the game was fucking over； so he pistoned back up to his feet and hobbled with all his might； ignoring the pain； ignoring the everywhere tingle that turned to burn； terrible burn in his eyes； left eye stinging sharp and wet and bleeding； bleeding from within 。。。
。。。 and still he ran； trading the rails for Toad Road mud； screaming out prayers to sweet baby Jesus as he stumbled through puddles of primal rain。 Running from the devil in his own back pocket。
Running till he dropped 。。。
Two
One hundred and eighty…eight thousand souls adorned the rolling stretch of God's country that was Paradise； Pennsylvania。 It was just over nine hundred square miles of sprawling； picturesque land； with the rugged hump of the Appalachian foothills sweeping across the west and the wide rocky expanse of the Susquehanna River to the east。
Paradise was the nexus point of the region's major east/west； north/south arteries； which made it the natural nerve center for trucking of every stripe。 Big rigs rumbled in and out constantly； ferrying the essential ingredients of the good life east to Philadelphia and New York； south to Baltimore and Washington； north to Harrisburg and Allentown； and west； down the turnpike； to Pittsburgh and the Ohioan heartlands beyond。
The outer townships were mostly made up of farms； factories； and forest land； green hills and hollows sparsely populated and broken up by strip malls and sleepy one…horse hamlets that accounted for maybe thirty…seven thousand out of the total population。
Another seventy…three thousand or so clustered around the industrial parks； which in turn gave way to wave upon wave of dense…packed； self…replicating suburbia： houses and lawns and houses and lawns； gradually shrinking in size as the neighborhoods crested the hills and entered the valley that marked the city proper。 There they packed in； tighter and tighter； until the lawns at last evaporated into puddle…sized patches or disappeared altogether。
The City Reservoir； on the south side of town； was the highest elevation and the site of the Paradise Water pany's vast standing pools。 If you stood on the crest of the hill and looked out over the valley； a vision spread before you： lights twinkling in the deep blue predawn hush； a quintessentially American picture…postcard jumble of church steeples and smokestacks； homes and factories and parks and schools。
Seventy…eight thousand people lived and dreamt there： along narrow one…way streets and shady tree…lined boulevards； in the crumbling tarpaper Penn Street shanties and cozy Cape Cods of College Avenue； in the tastefully renovated Market Square townhouses and lush Georgian abodes of Linden Boulevard。
From the posh palatial estates of Wyndham Hills to the paper…thin walls of the Paradise Rescue Mission…and everywhere in between…one hundred and eighty…eight thousand hearts beat through the night； ticking off the moments of a lifetime。
Paradise boasted a low cost of living and an unemployment rate a few tenths of a point below the national average。 The last thirty years had seen a steady growth in the black and Hispanic munities…and； more recently； a proportionately microscopic Asian influx…but despite all this； as well