"And keep your eyes open for a lady named Helen Deepneau," the producer said, taking a step closer to the building. The bug stuck on the heel of her shoe flopped and twisted as she walked.
"Deepneau," Kirkland said. He tapped his knuckles against his brow. "Somewhere, deep inside, a bell is ringing."
"Nah, it's just your last active brain-cell rolling around in there," the producer said. "She's Ed Deepneau's wife. They're separated. If you want tears, she's your best bet. She and Tillbury were good friends. Maybe special friends, if you know what I mean."
Kirkland leered-an expression so foreign to his on-camera persona that Ralph felt slightly disoriented. One of the color-bugs, meanwhile, had found its way onto the toe of the woman's shoe and was working its way up her leg. Ralph watched in helpless fascination as it disappeared beneath the hem of her skirt. Watching the moving bump climb her thigh was like watching a kitten under a bathtowel.
And again, it seemed that Kirkland's colleague felt something; as she talked to him about interviews during Day's speech, she reached down and absently scratched at the lump, which had now made it almost all the way up to her right hip. Ralph didn't hear the thick popping sound the fragile, flabby thing made when it burst, but he could imagine it. Was helpless not to, it seemed.
And he could imagine its innards dripping down her nyloned leg like pus. It would remain there at least until her evening shower, unseen, unfelt, unsuspected.
Now the two of them began discussing how they should cover the scheduled pro-life rally this afternoon... assuming it actually happened, that was. The woman was of the opinion that not even The Friends of Life would be dumbheaded enough to show up at the Civic Center after what had happened at High Ridge. Kirkland told her it was impossible to underestimate the idiocy of fanatics; people who could wear that much polyester in public were clearly a force to be reckoned with. And all the time they were talking, exchanging quips and ideas and gossip, more of the swollen, multicolored bugs were swarming busily up their legs and torsos. One pioneer had made it all the way up to Kirkland's red tie, and was apparently bound for his face.
Movement off to the right caught Ralph's eye. He turned toward the doors in time to see one of the techs elbowing a buddy and pointing at him and Lois. Ralph suddenly had an all-too-clear picture of what they were seeing: two people with no visible reason for being here (neither of them was wearing a black armband and they were clearly not representatives of the media) just hanging out at the edge of the parking lot. The lady, who had already screamed once, had her face buried against the gentleman's arm... and the gentleman in question was gaping like a fool at nothing in particular.
Ralph spoke softly and from the corner of his mouth, like an inmate discussing escape in an old Warner Bros. jailbreak epic. "Get your head up. We're attracting more attention than we can afford."
For a moment he really didn't believe she was going to be able to do that... and then she came through and lifted her head. She glanced at the shrubs growing along the wall one final time-an involuntary, horrified little peek-and then looked resolutely back at Ralph and only Ralph. "Do you see any sign of Atropos, Ralph?
That is why we're here, isn't it... to pick up his trail?"
"Maybe. I suppose. Haven't even looked, to tell the truth-too many other things going on. I think we ought to get a little closer to the building." This wasn't a thing he wanted to do, but it seemed very important to do something. He could feel the deathbag all around them, a gloomy, suffocating presence that was passively opposed to forward motion of any kind. That was what they had to fight.
"All right," she said. "I'm going to ask for Connie Chung's autograph, and I'm going to be all giggly and silly while I do it. Can you stand that?"
"Yes."
"Good. Because that will mean that if they're looking at anybody, they'll be looking at me."
"Sounds good."
He spared one last look at John Kirkland and the woman producer.
They were now discussing what events might cause them to break into the evening's network feed and