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o save her。
Horror was love； in this Brave New Hell： the capacity for caring； and for sharing pain。 To find oneself both in love and in Hell was more than torture； worse than madness。
It was tantamount to sin。
But for Deitz； the fallen angel 。。。
Suddenly； he changed the agenda； to do so was still within his power。 He climbed the stairs； severed Vulich…head in hand； understanding that it was the last one he'd be getting。 At least for now。
Then he headed for his truck。
And if he was mad； then it was certainly understandable； if he failed； it would certainly be nothing new。 But he was less than five miles from the woman he loved。
And…New World or not…he would save her if he could。
Fifty…One
By two fifty…eight Werner Blake was high over Paradise； taking his last look at the land he called home。
Getting the plane had not been a major problem； he'd long ago talked the county Emergency Management Agency into keeping a Cessna 152 hangared for aerial observation and emergencies and such。 The ground personnel had cautioned him about the ing storm； but Blake was nothing if not persuasive。
Far more troublesome for him would be what to tell Approach Control at Baltimore/Washington International： at the rate everything was ing unglued； they might just be hearing about it by the time he got there。 If his timing was on and his bullshit solid； he'd be able to slide through the cracks and disappear。
And if not 。。。
I'll burn that bridge when I e to it； he thought。 First things first。
Blake reached a nominal cruising altitude of three thousand feet。 The ground below took on a toylike quality； with wonderfully reproduced miniatures。 His bags were stuffed into the cramped cockpit space behind him。 God was not his copilot； the attaché case occupied that position； the better to not let it out of his sight。 Inside； a little over one point two million awaited； the seeds of a new life。
He sighed； relieved to be airborne。 Things always seemed clearer when he was flying。 Everything was going to be fine； he realized。 Everything was going to work out。
Blake sighed and worked the controls。 The Cessna banked south； heading for the promised land。
And straight into the ing storm 。。。
In the last sixty seconds before three o'clock； the Drew…thing stirred。 It had been dreaming again： more and more as its function diminished in importance； gave way to Overmind。
In the dream； he was an infant again： laying face…up in his crib； playing with something like a mobile。 He was happy and content。
Then a shadow passed over； saying time to wake up now 。。。
The Drew…thing awoke。
It was groggy from glut； its body swollen huge beyond all human scale or prehension。 It was a miracle of mutant creation； the wild experimentation giving way to a symmetry； as form followed function 。。。
It was conical in shape； growing up as it expanded outward like a massive organic pyramid； imitating the mandala shapes of the natural world it subsumed and replaced。
Dozens of mouths ringed its base； yard…long vertical gashes that hung open obscenely； willing portals in the mottled flesh。。 Segmented proboscises snaked out of them； lightning…fast and fluid。 They slithered along the endless corridors of drums； blind beaked heads knocking over barrels； cracking drums like eggs。
And feeding； feeding the bloated ticklike monstrosity of its body； a hundred thousand gallons of liquid nightmare and more already inside it； the overspill sloshing from the ruptured husks； pooling together； forming an enormous toxic lake that deepened and spread 。。。
The Drew…head lolled on its great bloated perch； a perverse and temporary place of honor。 It stared at the sky with its one remaining eye； the other dangled downward； dry as a forgotten spring onion。
Somewhere overhead； an airplane buzzed its insect engine…drone。 The Drew…head batted at it lazily； one of its hands ing up to wave the nuisance away。
The drone grew louder。
The next thirty seconds of Blake's life were rich with irony。
At two fifty…nine Blake realized that his flight path took him almost directly over the dump。 Some deeply perverse impulse gained dominion over him at that moment； and he banked west； he wanted to catch one last fly…by of the thing that had so forever altered his life。
The Cessna crossed the outside aerial perimeter of the dump at just over one hundred and ten miles per hour。 Blake leaned into the joystick and dove down to two thousand feet； buzzing the pools and pits that marked the outer edge。 As the ground swept by； he noticed the drums toppling； the tendrils pulling them down。
The plane raced on； passing over the heart of the dump 。。。
。。。 and suddenly Blake found himself looking down in helpless； morbid fascination and awe； staring at the great gray malignancy that had enveloped Paradise Waste。
From above； it looked like a jellyfish； an anemone； a vast ganglionic tumor floating in a sea of spilled sludge。 Fat tendrils snaked out between the rows and rows of barrels that spanned its seven…acre breadth； binding it inextricably to the dump。
Then the air around it moved： a vaporous shimmer of anticipation like a heat wave； a visible coiling of energy。 The little plane buffeted； and Blake felt dread clench like a fist in his throat； felt his bowels go slack and his adrenaline surge。 He gasped； and felt his lips go utterly numb。
Oh god； Blake thought； oh shit。
He banked and rolled the Cessna hard； the engine whined in a desperate last…minute bid for freedom。
But he was already out of time。
Weedle…eedle…eeee 。。。
The Drew…head looked up and saw the silver bird： a bright toy against the mad black churning sky。 It giggled and groped for it like an infant。 It could not hope to reach it。
But in doing so； it caught a glimpse of something familiar。
Something wonderful。
Another bright toy； easily within reach。
The little digital watch…game was still strapped to its wrist。 The arm had trebled in size until the strap had pinched off the hand like a sausage link； burying the tiny buttons in gangrenous blackened flesh。 The Drew…thing tried to touch them with its bloated chubby fingers； found it could not。
It only took five of the last ten seconds for another limb to form。
Weedle…eedle…eee 。。。 ； as the shadow of the plane passed over his face。 Weedle…eedle…eee 。。。 ； as the tiny plane on its wrist dropped its tiny pay load。 Moist new fingers pressed the buttons； scoring a direct hit。
Weedle…eedle…eedle…eeeee 。。。
And the New World was born。
Alive and more than alive voracious ecstatic and free at last rising at the speed of bustion emancipated in flame set loose from the mooring of earth and flesh one hundred and forty thousand toxic apostles flush with Overmind ingling and exploding together then rising ten fifteen twenty thousand feet and climbing straight to heaven to godhead to primacy to claim both heaven and earth for its own
The explosion was immense。
One hundred thousand barrels caught at once； a deadly daisy chain started as five acres of fifty…five…gallon drums averaging four hundred and forty pounds apiece ignited in less than a nanosecond； a blistering four point four million pounds of volatile death with the equivalent blast force of just over two megatons。
At two thousand feet Blake barely had time to scream before the fireball slammed into the Cessna's fuselage； bludgeoning it upward； engulfing it in flame。
And Blake might have wished that it would end quickly； a flash and then nothing。 Such was not the case。 He had far too long to experience the dramatic climb in temperature； far too long to feel his hair singe and see the cockpit slag and go red； savor the unmistakable smell of his own immolation。
Far too long。
Nearly all of a second。
But the moment in which he exploded went on forever。 He could feel his marrow cook； the gases in his intestinal tract ignite and detonate； blowing bone to shrapnel rain that ruptured his flesh even as it blistered of into grease and vapor。
And all of it was agony。 Pure agony； unsullied by merciful distance or candid spiritual reflection。 No life flashing before his eyes。 Just his eyeballs exploding。
For one infinite moment。
Then Blake and the plane and the air they displaced were gone； blown to bits； absorbed by the mounting pillar of flame。 The sparkling cinders of one point two million in cash burned no brighter than anything else。
They all turned to ash and were caught by the maelstrom wind； fed into the clouds as particulate matter。
Feeding； and seeding； the storm。
Fifty…Two
They were drawn to the windows and streets by the sound。 The spectacle held them there。 Awe and terror of astonishing depth…the literal fear of God…embraced them as they gazed upon that vengeful； iconic； unquenchable fire。 It stole their breath and paralyzed their souls。
You could see it from the heart of town； a dozen miles away。
For one long； terrible moment； one hundred and eighty…seven thousand people set aside their differences； threw caution to the shock wave wind