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Slowly we approached an overpass； seeing people on foot up there。 They carried boxes and suitcases； objects in blankets； a long line of people leaning into the blowing snow。 People cradling pets and small children； an old man wearing a blanket over his pajamas； two women shouldering a rolled…up rug。 There were people on bicycles； children being pulled on sleds and in wagons。 People with supermarket carts； people clad in every kind of bulky outfit； peering out from deep hoods。 There was a family wrapped pletely in plastic； a single large sheet of transparent polyethylene。 They walked beneath their shield in lock step； the man and woman each at one end； three kids between； all of them secondarily wrapped in shimmering rainwear。 The whole affair had about it a well…rehearsed and self…satisfied look； as though they'd been waiting for months to strut their stuff。 People kept appearing from behind a high rampart and trudging across the overpass； shoulders dusted with snow； hundreds of people moving with a kind of fated determination。 A new round of sirens started up。 The trudging people did not quicken their pace； did not look down at us or into the night sky for some sign of the wind…driven cloud。 They just kept moving across the bridge through patches of snow…raging light。 Out in the open； keeping their children near； carrying what they could； they seemed to be part of some ancient destiny； connected in doom and ruin to a whole history of people trekking across wasted landscapes。 There was an epic quality about them that made me wonder for the first time at the scope of our predicament。 The radio said： 〃It's the rainbow hologram that gives this credit card a marketing intrigue。〃
We moved slowly beneath the overpass； hearing a flurry of automobile horns and the imploring wail of an ambulance stuck in traffic。 Fifty yards ahead the traffic narrowed to one lane and we soon saw why。 One of the cars had skidded off the incline and barreled into a vehicle in our lane。 Horns quacked up and down the line。 A helicopter sat just above us； shining a white beam down on the mass of collapsed metal。 People sat dazed on the grass； being tended to by a pair of bearded paramedics。 Two people were bloody。 There was blood on a smashed window。 Blood soaked upward through newly fallen snow。 Drops of blood speckled a tan handbag。 The scene of injured people； medics； smoking steel； all washed in a strong and eerie light； took on the eloquence of a formal position。 We passed silently by； feeling curiously reverent； even uplifted by the sight of the heaped cars and fallen people。
Heinrich kept watching through the rear window； taking up his binoculars as the scene dwindled in the distance。 He described for us in detail the number and placement of bodies； the skid marks； the vehicular damage。 When the wreck was no longer visible； he talked about everything that had happened since the air…raid siren at dinner。 He spoke enthusiastically； with a sense of appreciation for the vivid and unexpected。 I thought we'd all occupied the same mental state； subdued； worried； confused。 It hadn't occurred to me that one of us might find these events brilliantly stimulating。 I looked at him in the rearview mirror。 He sat slouched in the camouflage jacket with Velcro closures； steeped happily in disaster。 He talked about the snow； the traffic； the trudging people。 He speculated on how far we were from the abandoned camp； what sort of primitive acmodations might be available there。 I'd never heard him go on about something with such spirited enjoyment。 He was practically giddy。 He must have known we could all die。 Was this some kind of end…of…the…world elation？ Did he seek distraction from his own small miseries in some violent and overwhelming event？ His voice betrayed a craving for terrible things。
〃Is this a mild winter or a harsh winter？〃 Steffie said。
〃pared to what？〃 Denise said。
〃I don't know。〃
I thought I saw Babette slip something into her mouth。 I took my eye off the road for a moment； watched her carefully。 She looked straight ahead。 I pretended to return my attention to the road but quickly turned once more； catching her off guard as she seemed to swallow whatever it was she'd put in her mouth。
〃What's that？〃 I said。
〃Drive the car； Jack。〃
〃I saw your throat contract。 You swallowed something。〃
〃Just a Life Saver。 Drive the car please。〃
〃You place a Life Saver in your mouth and you swallow it without an interval of sucking？〃
〃Swallow what？ It's still in my mouth。〃
She thrust her face toward me； using her tongue to make a small lump in her cheek。 A clear…cut amateurish bluff。
〃But you swallowed something。 I saw。〃
〃That was just saliva that I didn't know what to do with。 Drive the car； would you？〃
I sensed that Denise was getting interested and decided not to pursue the matter。 This was not the time to be questioning her mother about medications； side effects and so on。 Wilder was asleep； leaning into Babette's arm。 The windshield wipers made sweaty arcs。 From the radio we learned that dogs trained to sniff out Nyodene D。 were being sent to the area from a chemical detection center in a remote part of New Mexico。
Denise said； 〃Did they ever think about what happens to the dogs when they get close enough to this stuff to smell it？〃
〃Nothing happens to the dogs；〃 Babette said。
〃How do you know？〃
〃Because it only affects humans and rats。〃
〃I don't believe you。〃
〃Ask Jack。〃
〃Ask Heinrich；〃 I said。
〃It could be true；〃 he said； clearly lying。 〃They use rats to test for things that humans can catch； so it means we get the same diseases； rats and humans。 Besides； they wouldn't use dogs if they thought it could hurt them。〃
〃Why not？〃
〃A dog is a mammal。〃
〃So's a rat；〃 Denise said。
〃A rat is a vermin；〃 Babette said。
〃Mostly what a rat is；〃 Heinrich said； 〃is a rodent。〃
〃It's also a vermin。〃
〃A cockroach is a vermin；〃 Steffie said。
〃A cockroach is an insect。 You count the legs is how you know。〃
〃It's also a vermin。〃
〃Does a cockroach get cancer？ No；〃 Denise said。 〃That must mean a rat is more like a human than it is like a cockroach； even if they're both vermins； since a rat and a human can get cancer but a cockroach can't。〃
〃In other words；〃 Heinrich said； 〃she's saying that two things that are mammals have more in mon than two things that are only vermins。〃
〃Are you people telling me；〃 Babette said； 〃that a rat is not only a vermin and a rodent but a mammal too？〃
Snow turned to sleet； sleet to rain。
We reached the point where the concrete barrier gives way to a twenty…yard stretch of landscaped median no higher than a curbstone。 But instead of a state trooper directing traffic into two extra lanes； we saw a Mylex…suited man waving us away from the opening。 Just beyond him was the scrap…metal burial mound of a Winnebago and a snowplow。 The huge and tortured wreck emitted a wisp of rusty smoke。 Brightly colored plastic utensils were scattered for some distance。 There was no sign of victims or fresh blood； leading us to believe that some time had passed since the recreational vehicle mounted the plow； probably in a moment when opportunism seemed an easily defensible failing； given the situation。 It must have been the blinding snow that caused the driver to leap the median without noting an object on the other side。
〃I saw all this before；〃 Steffie said。
〃What do you mean？〃 I said。
〃This happened once before。 Just like this。 The man in the yellow suit and gas mask。 The big wreck sitting in the snow。 It was totally and exactly like this。 We were all here in the car。 Rain made little holes in the snow。 Everything。〃
It was Heinrich who'd told me that exposure to the chemical waste could cause a person to experience a sense of déjà vu。 Steffie wasn't there when he said it； but she could have heard it on the kitchen radio； where she and Denise had probably learned about sweaty palms and vomiting before developing these symptoms themselves。 I didn't think Steffie knew what déjà vu meant； but it was possible Babette had told her。 Déjà vu； however； was no longer a working symptom of Nyodene contamination。 It had been preempted by a； convulsions； and miscarriage。 If Steffie had learned about déjà vu on the radio but then missed the subsequent upgrading to more deadly conditions； it could mean she was in a position to be tricked by her own apparatus of suggestibility。 She and Denise had been lagging all evening。 They were late with sweaty palms； late with nausea； late again with déjà vu。 What did it all mean？ Did Steffie truly imagine she'd seen the wreck before or did she only imagine she'd imagined it？ Is it possible to have a false perception of an illusion？ Is there a true déjà vu and a false déjà vu？ I wondered whether her palms had been truly sweaty or whether she'd simply imagined a sense of wetness。 And was she so open to suggestion that she would develop every symptom as it was announced？
I feel sad for people and the queer part we play in our own disasters。
But what if she hadn't heard the radio； didn't know what déjà vu was？ What if she was developing real symptoms by natural means？ Maybe the scientists were right in the first place； with their original announcements； before they revised upward。 Which was worse； the real condition or the self…created one； and did it matter？ I wondered about these and allied questions。 As I drove I found myself giving and taking an oral examination based on the kind of quibbling fine…points that had entertained several centuries' worth of medieval idlers。 Could a nine…year…old girl suffer a miscarriage due to the power of suggestion？ Would she have to be pregnant first？ Could the power of suggestion be strong enough to work backward in this manner； from miscarriage to pregnancy to menstruation to ovulation？ Which es first； menstruation or ovulation？ Are we talking about mere symptoms or deeply entrenched conditions？ Is a symptom a sign or a thing？ What is a thing and how do we know it's not another thing？
I turned off the radio； not to help me think but to keep me from thinking。 Vehicles lurched and skidded。 Someone threw a gum wrapper out a side window and Babette made an indignant speech about inconsiderate people littering the highways and countryside。
〃I'll tell you something else that's happened before；〃 Heinrich said。 〃We're running out of gas。〃
The dial quivered on E。
〃There's always extra；〃 Babette said。
〃How can there be always extra？〃
〃That's the way the tank is constructed。 So you don't run out。〃
〃There can't be always extra。 If you keep going； you run out。〃
〃You don't keep going forever。〃
〃How do you know when to stop？〃 he said。
〃When you pass a gas station；〃 I told him； and there it was； a deserted and rain…swept plaza with proud pumps standing beneath an array of multicolored banners。 I drove in； jumped out of the car； ran around to the pumps with my head tucked under the raised collar of my coat。 They were not locked； which meant the attendants had fled suddenly； leaving things intriguingly as they were； like the tools and pottery of some pueblo civilization； bread in the oven； table set for three； a mystery to haunt the generations。 I seized the hose on the unleaded pump。 The banners smacked in the wind。
A few minutes later； back on the road； we saw a remarkable and startling sight。 It appeared in the sky ahead of us and to the left； prompting us to lower ourselves in our seats； bend our heads for a clearer view； exclaim to each other in half finished phrases。 It was the black billowing cloud； the airborne toxic event； lighted by the clear beams of seven army helicopters。 They were tracking its wíndborne movement； keeping it in view。 In every car； heads shifted； drivers blew their horns to alert others； faces appeared in side windows； expressions set in tones of outlandish wonderment。
The enormous dark mass moved like some death ship in a Norse legend； escorted across the night by armored creatures with spiral wings。 We weren't sure how to react。 It was a terrible thing to see； so close； so low； packed with chlorides； benzines； phenols； hydrocarbons； or whatever the precise toxic content。 But it was also spectacular； part of the grandness of a sweeping event； like the vivid scene in the switching yard or the people trudging across the snowy overpass with children； food； belongings； a tragic army of the dispossessed。 Our fear was acpanied by a sense of awe that bordered on the religious。 It is surely possible to be awed by the thing that threatens your life； to see it as a cosmic force； so much larger than yourself； more powerful； created by elemental and willful rhythms。 This was a death made in the laboratory； defined and measurable； but we thought of it at the time in a simple and primitive way； as some seasonal perversity of the earth like a flood or tornado； something not subject to control。 Our helplessness did not seem patible with the idea of a man…made event。
In the back seat the kids fought for possession of the binoculars。
The whole thing was amazing。 They seemed to be spotlighting the cloud for us as if it were part of a sound…and…light sh