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."Nance, shut up your bawling and come here," Bill called from the lounge."They've just said the Mayor's gonna address the city in a few minutes.It's a recording of some speech he made earlier, this morning.""What's it to do with you, Bill? You didn't vote for him last time.And I haven't got the time.""It's not an election speech," he snapped."It's about evacuating the city.Will you shut up and listen?"It wasn't like Bill to talk like that! Nancy hurried into the room to see what the fuss was about… and slowly her jaw dropped as she gaped in horror, speechless until Bill Naseby was finished.Then her knees turned to jelly."For God's sake let's get out of here," she gasped, untying the strings of her pinafore."Kids, quick, get your raincoats.""Just hold on a minute," Bill suggested."Let's just talk about it for a moment.There's your job.""Talk? Don't be a nut.We'll talk about it when we're in Yonkers.As for my job, my job can go."The phone bleeped, and Bill reached it first."Yeah?… oh, hi, Ernie.What's up?… Yeah, we were just watching it.What are you and Marge gonna do?" There was a long pause during which Bill's ever cheerful face grew longer and more serious."Okay," he said at last."That sounds best.Just let me check with Nance." He turned to his wife."Ernie says the streets really are jammed and do we want to go up-river with him and Marge and their kids on the Glory of Liberty? It'll mean walking down across Eleventh but he's got her moored at the end of the 54th dock, so it won't be too far."Ernest, Bill's brother, was mate on one of the tourist pleasure boats that toured the harbor."But where'll we go on her?" The blonde curls were shaking with fright."What'll we do for wheels when we get ashore? I'll bet the river's real nasty already and the storm's not due here till this afternoon.That poor old tub can't take rough weather – she'll sink." She remembered a Sunday afternoon trip on it last year, the stink of oil, the way the bulkheads creaked and groaned as the boat nosed the current back up to her berth, layer after layer of thick paint, soft as putty in the sun, covering the crumbling areas of rust."The Glory's got to be a better bet than the streets," Bill said."Come on, if you're worried about staying.""Worried?" Her eyes filled with tears."Of course I'm worried, Bill.“I'm shit scared.We gotta get out, quick.""Then grab your coat, sweetheart, throw some clothes in a bag, and get the kids moving.I'll lock up."The three children soon reappeared in raingear and the young family huddled together on the sidewalk, heading for the docks on the Hudson River.Nancy was clutching the little silver swimming trophy she'd won fifteen years ago, before she'd ever met Bill.She'd always treasured it.National American Broadcasting Service Offices, Fifth Avenue — 8.30 am"I'm standing on the Battery," Rod Kimmelman shouted into his microphone."And boy, is it blowing out here!"The camera moved away from the close-up of his face to show him huddled in the shelter of the huge mobile NABS camera van; even the van was trembling in the gusts."I reckon there are wind speeds here of well over 100 miles an hour,” Kimmelman said."Certainly no man could stand up to them.Look there." Once again the camera tracked, to where trees were bending almost to the ground; one or two of the smaller ones had already been uprooted."This is where," Kimmelman continued, "the real brunt of the storm will first be felt here in Manhattan.It is expected that within the next few hours the wind strength will increase dramatically as the eye of the storm approaches, and the water level is going to rise even more dramatically, as the tide starts to come in.In fact, the experts say that where I am now standing may be under several feet of water.They could be right; the sea has already risen some three feet above normal for the state of tide, which is dead low at the moment." The camera tracked away to show large wavelets lapping at the shore, clearly only inches beneath the park itself."Over there." another point, and the camera moved again, "there are the Narrows, leading out into Lower New York Bay and then the Ambrose Channel.That cut normally protects the harbor from the worst effects of gale force winds.Well, no one knows for sure what is going to happen later on this morning and this afternoon.Reports from Sandy Hook, Crookes Point, Rockaway and Coney Island already indicate considerable flooding; if the tidal surge does reach something like 40 feet, as some experts are predicting, it is going to come pouring right over there, pushed by maybe 200-mile-an-hour winds.It's already pretty rough out there." The camera focused on the Narrows; the Bridge was some six miles of water from where the van was standing, but even at that distance the surging whitecaps could be seen, and the zoom lens revealed that spray was being tossed higher than the deserted bridge itself."What do you think of the Grand Old Lady, then?" Kimmelman asked.Another track, to reveal the Statue of Liberty, standing as proud as ever amidst the sweeping clouds and the forked lightning."I tell you, folks, I wouldn't want to be on top of her right this minute.This is Rod Kimmel-man, reporting for the National American… Holy Jesus!"The screen went blank."He's lost power," Jayme said, grabbing Richard's arm as they stood before the monitor."The van's been overturned," Richard snapped.He had warned Rod not to go out there, but Rod had his reputation, as the man who always reported the unreportable story, to protect.He picked up his phone."Jay, Alan… okay, but you'd better make it quick." He put the phone down."They're sending out a rescue team.I don't know if they'll get through.Christ, the crazy fool.""Here's the latest update from the Hurricane Centre," Julian said, pulling the sheet of paper out of the teleprinter and handing it across the desk.Richard looked at it.Faith was now holding an absolutely steady course and speed, northwest at 20 knots.But she was still nearly 120 miles away, and yet already the winds were strong enough to knock over a heavy television van.And Atlantic City was only just within the 100-mile arc – the normal maximum distance for hurricane winds to reach out from the center – and they were recording 150-mile-an-hour gusts.There could no longer be any question in anyone's mind that they were on the edge of a catastrophe.Even the double-glazed windows in the office were buckling, and a variety of noises penetrated the supposedly soundproof room from the outside world.But it was the window, all the windows in the building, that were principally worrying him.He would have liked to evacuate the weather room, but it was their duty to send out the news for as long as there was power, and it would be impossible to move and re-site all the computer equipment into the windowless studios.He stood looking down into the streets, still clogged with vehicles, scattered every which way now, but mostly abandoned by their drivers and passengers, who had sought shelter, either returning home or wherever seemed safest; scattered around the vehicles, or on top of them, was all manner of debris, from shattered billboards to television aerials and the branches of trees.The lights flickered, went off, and came back on again."What the hell.?" Julian demanded, staring in outrage at his computer screen, which had promptly returned to the 'please wait' display [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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."Nance, shut up your bawling and come here," Bill called from the lounge."They've just said the Mayor's gonna address the city in a few minutes.It's a recording of some speech he made earlier, this morning.""What's it to do with you, Bill? You didn't vote for him last time.And I haven't got the time.""It's not an election speech," he snapped."It's about evacuating the city.Will you shut up and listen?"It wasn't like Bill to talk like that! Nancy hurried into the room to see what the fuss was about… and slowly her jaw dropped as she gaped in horror, speechless until Bill Naseby was finished.Then her knees turned to jelly."For God's sake let's get out of here," she gasped, untying the strings of her pinafore."Kids, quick, get your raincoats.""Just hold on a minute," Bill suggested."Let's just talk about it for a moment.There's your job.""Talk? Don't be a nut.We'll talk about it when we're in Yonkers.As for my job, my job can go."The phone bleeped, and Bill reached it first."Yeah?… oh, hi, Ernie.What's up?… Yeah, we were just watching it.What are you and Marge gonna do?" There was a long pause during which Bill's ever cheerful face grew longer and more serious."Okay," he said at last."That sounds best.Just let me check with Nance." He turned to his wife."Ernie says the streets really are jammed and do we want to go up-river with him and Marge and their kids on the Glory of Liberty? It'll mean walking down across Eleventh but he's got her moored at the end of the 54th dock, so it won't be too far."Ernest, Bill's brother, was mate on one of the tourist pleasure boats that toured the harbor."But where'll we go on her?" The blonde curls were shaking with fright."What'll we do for wheels when we get ashore? I'll bet the river's real nasty already and the storm's not due here till this afternoon.That poor old tub can't take rough weather – she'll sink." She remembered a Sunday afternoon trip on it last year, the stink of oil, the way the bulkheads creaked and groaned as the boat nosed the current back up to her berth, layer after layer of thick paint, soft as putty in the sun, covering the crumbling areas of rust."The Glory's got to be a better bet than the streets," Bill said."Come on, if you're worried about staying.""Worried?" Her eyes filled with tears."Of course I'm worried, Bill.“I'm shit scared.We gotta get out, quick.""Then grab your coat, sweetheart, throw some clothes in a bag, and get the kids moving.I'll lock up."The three children soon reappeared in raingear and the young family huddled together on the sidewalk, heading for the docks on the Hudson River.Nancy was clutching the little silver swimming trophy she'd won fifteen years ago, before she'd ever met Bill.She'd always treasured it.National American Broadcasting Service Offices, Fifth Avenue — 8.30 am"I'm standing on the Battery," Rod Kimmelman shouted into his microphone."And boy, is it blowing out here!"The camera moved away from the close-up of his face to show him huddled in the shelter of the huge mobile NABS camera van; even the van was trembling in the gusts."I reckon there are wind speeds here of well over 100 miles an hour,” Kimmelman said."Certainly no man could stand up to them.Look there." Once again the camera tracked, to where trees were bending almost to the ground; one or two of the smaller ones had already been uprooted."This is where," Kimmelman continued, "the real brunt of the storm will first be felt here in Manhattan.It is expected that within the next few hours the wind strength will increase dramatically as the eye of the storm approaches, and the water level is going to rise even more dramatically, as the tide starts to come in.In fact, the experts say that where I am now standing may be under several feet of water.They could be right; the sea has already risen some three feet above normal for the state of tide, which is dead low at the moment." The camera tracked away to show large wavelets lapping at the shore, clearly only inches beneath the park itself."Over there." another point, and the camera moved again, "there are the Narrows, leading out into Lower New York Bay and then the Ambrose Channel.That cut normally protects the harbor from the worst effects of gale force winds.Well, no one knows for sure what is going to happen later on this morning and this afternoon.Reports from Sandy Hook, Crookes Point, Rockaway and Coney Island already indicate considerable flooding; if the tidal surge does reach something like 40 feet, as some experts are predicting, it is going to come pouring right over there, pushed by maybe 200-mile-an-hour winds.It's already pretty rough out there." The camera focused on the Narrows; the Bridge was some six miles of water from where the van was standing, but even at that distance the surging whitecaps could be seen, and the zoom lens revealed that spray was being tossed higher than the deserted bridge itself."What do you think of the Grand Old Lady, then?" Kimmelman asked.Another track, to reveal the Statue of Liberty, standing as proud as ever amidst the sweeping clouds and the forked lightning."I tell you, folks, I wouldn't want to be on top of her right this minute.This is Rod Kimmel-man, reporting for the National American… Holy Jesus!"The screen went blank."He's lost power," Jayme said, grabbing Richard's arm as they stood before the monitor."The van's been overturned," Richard snapped.He had warned Rod not to go out there, but Rod had his reputation, as the man who always reported the unreportable story, to protect.He picked up his phone."Jay, Alan… okay, but you'd better make it quick." He put the phone down."They're sending out a rescue team.I don't know if they'll get through.Christ, the crazy fool.""Here's the latest update from the Hurricane Centre," Julian said, pulling the sheet of paper out of the teleprinter and handing it across the desk.Richard looked at it.Faith was now holding an absolutely steady course and speed, northwest at 20 knots.But she was still nearly 120 miles away, and yet already the winds were strong enough to knock over a heavy television van.And Atlantic City was only just within the 100-mile arc – the normal maximum distance for hurricane winds to reach out from the center – and they were recording 150-mile-an-hour gusts.There could no longer be any question in anyone's mind that they were on the edge of a catastrophe.Even the double-glazed windows in the office were buckling, and a variety of noises penetrated the supposedly soundproof room from the outside world.But it was the window, all the windows in the building, that were principally worrying him.He would have liked to evacuate the weather room, but it was their duty to send out the news for as long as there was power, and it would be impossible to move and re-site all the computer equipment into the windowless studios.He stood looking down into the streets, still clogged with vehicles, scattered every which way now, but mostly abandoned by their drivers and passengers, who had sought shelter, either returning home or wherever seemed safest; scattered around the vehicles, or on top of them, was all manner of debris, from shattered billboards to television aerials and the branches of trees.The lights flickered, went off, and came back on again."What the hell.?" Julian demanded, staring in outrage at his computer screen, which had promptly returned to the 'please wait' display [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]