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ebago's door on the scene and hurried back to the bedroom to call Freddy Johnson。 He was still carrying his boot。
10
Cambry was on his knees behind Old Man Gosselin's desk when the first wave of prisoners smashed its way in。 He was opening drawers； looking frantically for a gun。 The fact that he didn't find one very likely saved his life。
'NOW！ NOW！ NOW！' the oning prisoners screamed。
There was a monstrous thud against the back of the store； as if a truck had driven into it。 From outside； Cambry could hear a juicy crackling sound as the first detainees hit the fence。 The lights in the office began to flicker。
'Stand together； men！' Danny O'Brian cried。 'For the love of Christ； stand toge…'
The rear door came off its hinges with so much force that it actually skittered backward across the room； shielding the first of the screaming men who clogged the doorway。 Cambry ducked； hands laced over the back of his head； as the door fell on the desk at an angle with him beneath it； in the kneehole。
The sound of rifles on full auto was deafening in the tiny room； drowning out even the screams of the wounded； but Cambry understood that not all of them were firing。 Trezewski； Udall； and O'Brian were； but Coleman； Everett； and Ray Parsons were only standing there with their weapons held to their chests and dazed expressions on their faces。
From his accidental shelter； Gene Cambry saw the prisoners charge across the room； saw the first of them caught by the bullets and thrown like scarecrows； saw their blood splash across the walls and the bean…supper posters and the OSHA notices。 He saw George Udall throw his gun at two beefy young men in orange； then whirl and lunge at one of the windows。 George got halfway out and was then yanked back； a man with Ripley growing on his cheek like a birthmark sank his teeth into George's calf as if it were a turkey drumstick while another man silenced the screaming head at the other end of George's body by jerking it briskly to the left。 The room was blue with powdersmoke； but he saw Al Coleman throw his gun down and pick up the chant … 'Now！ Now！ Now！' And he saw Ray Parsons； normally the most pacific of men； turn his rifle on Danny O'Brian and blow his brains out。
Now the matter was simple。 Now it was just the infected versus the immune。
The desk was hit and slammed against the wall。 The door fell on top of Cambry； and before he could get up； people were running over the door； squashing him。 He felt like a cowboy who has fallen off his horse during a stampede。 I'm going to die under here； he thought； and then for a moment the murderous pressure was gone。 He lunged to his knees； driving with adrenaline…loaded muscles； and the door slid off him to the left； saying goodbye with a vicious dig of the doorknob into his hip。 Someone dealt him a passing kick in the ribcage； another boot scraped by his right ear； and then he was up。 The room was thick with smoke； crazy with shouts and screams。 Four or five bulky hunters were propelled into the woodstove； which tore free of its pipe and went crashing over on its side； spilling flaming chunks of maple onto the floor。 Money and playing cards caught fire。 There was the rancid smell of melting plastic poker chips。 Those were Ray's； Cambry thought incoherently。 He had them in the Gu！f。 Bosnia； too。
He stood ignored in the confusion。 There was no need for the escaping internees to use the door between the office and the store； the entire wall … no more than a flimsy partition； really … had been smashed flat。 Pieces of this stuff were also catching fire from the overturned stove。
'Now；' Gene Cambry muttered。 'Now。' He saw Ray Parsons running with the others toward the front of the store； Howie Everett at his heels。 Howie snatched a loaf of bread as he ran down the center aisle。
A scrawny old party in a tassled cap and an overcoat was pushed forward onto the overturned stove； then stomped flat。 Cambry heard his high…pitched； squealing screams as his face bonded to the metal and then began to boil。
Heard it and felt it。
'Now！' Cambry shouted； giving in and joining the others。 'Now！'
He broad…jumped the growing flames from the stove and ran； losing his little mind in the big one。
For all practical purposes； Operation Blue Boy was over。
11
Three quarters of the way across the paddock； Henry paused； gasping for breath and clutching at his hammering chest。 Behind him was the pocket armageddon he had unleashed； ahead of him he could see nothing but darkness。 Fucking Underhill had run out on him； had…
Easy； beautiful … easy。
Lights flashed out twice。 Henry had been looking in the wrong place； that was all； Owen was parked a little to the left of the paddock's southwest er。 Now Henry could see the Sno…Cat's boxy outline clearly。 From behind him came screams； shouts； orders； shooting。 Not as much shooting as he would have expected； but this was no time to wonder why。
Hurry up！ Owen cried。 We have to get out of here！
I'm ing as fast as I can … hold on。
Henry got moving again。 Whatever had been in Owen's kickstart pills was already wearing off； and his feet felt heavy。 His thigh itched maddeningly； and so did his mouth。 He could feel the stuff creeping over his tongue。 It was like a soft…drink fizz that wouldn't go away。
Owen had cut the fence … both the barbed wire and the smooth。 Now he stood in front of the Sno…Cat （it was white to match the snow； and it was really no wonder Henry hadn't seen it） with an automatic rifle propped against his hip； attempting to look everywhere at once。 The multiple lights gave him half a dozen shadows； they radiated out from his boots like crazy clock…hands。
Owen grabbed Henry around the shoulders。 You okay？
Henry nodded。 As Owen began to pull him toward the Sno…Cat； there was a loud； high…pitched explosion； as if someone had just fired the world's largest carbine。 Henry ducked； stumbled over his own feet； and would have fallen if Owen hadn't held him up。
What…？
LP gas。 Gasoline； too； maybe。 Look。
Owen took him by the shoulders and turned him around。 Henry saw a vast pillar of fire in the snowy Might。 Bits of the store … boards； shingles； flaming boxes of Cheerios； burning rolls of toilet paper … rose into the sky。 Some of the soldiers were watching this； mesmerized。 Others were running for the woods。 In pursuit of the prisoners； Henry assumed； although he was hearing their panic in his head … Run！ Run！ Now！ Now！ … and simply could not credit it。 Later； when he had time to think； he would understand that many of the soldiers were also fleeing。 Now he understood nothing。 Things were happening too fast。
Owen turned him around again and boosted him into the Sno…Cat's passenger seat； pushing him past a hanging canvas flap that smelled strongly of motor oil。 It was blessedly warm in the 'Cat's cab。 A radio bolted to the rudimentary dashboard chattered and squawked。 The only thing Henry could make out clearly was the panic in the voices。 It made him savagely happy … happier than he'd been since the afternoon the four of them had put the fear of God into Richie Grenadeau and his bullyrag buddies。 And that's who was running this operation； as far as Henry could see： a bunch of grownup Richie Grenadeaus； armed with guns instead of dried…up pieces of dogshit。
There was something between the seats； a box with two blinking amber lights。 As Henry bent over it； curious； Owen Underhill snatched back the tarp hanging beside the driver's seat and flung himself into the 'Cat。 He was breathing hard and smiling as he looked at the burning store。
'Be careful of that； brother；' he said。 'Mind the buttons。' Henry lifted the box； which was about the size of Duddits's beloved Scooby…Doo lunchbox。 The buttons of which Owen had spoken were under the blinking lights。 'What are they？'
Owen turned the ignition key and the Sno…Cat's hot engine rumbled into immediate life。 The transmission ran off a high stick； which Owen jammed into gear。 Owen was still smiling。 In the bright light falling through the Sno…Cat's windshield； Henry could now see a reddish…orange thread of byrus growing beneath each of the man's eyes； like mascar