Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [67]
It was Officer Darla Famini and her partner, Archie Lamb, who were taking the heat for the delay, mostly from workers rolling in at the last minute for the night shift.
"Come on, Darla, what's the problem?" complained a corpulent man behind the wheel of a late-model GM pickup.
"You ought to know me. I'm your damned cousin."
"Sorry, Billy," Darla said, handing him back his employee ID. "Tonight we have to check everybody. We have a situation."
"Situation?" Billy rolled his eyes. "We haven't had a situation since Ronald Reagan was President."
Darla frowned. "We've got one tonight."
Billy adjusted his ball cap. "Lucky me. I'm at the end of the line."
"You have plenty of time to clock in," Officer Famini replied, waving him through.
As the gate went up, Billy glanced into his rearview mirror. "Here comes someone else you can harass," he said. Then he pulled away in a cloud of exhaust smoke.
Darla watched two headlights bounce up the driveway. Her partner appeared at her shoulder.
"That's a truck," said Archie Lamb.
The night sky was clear and cloudless above Rutland, the stars and planets sharply bright. Darla could make out the vehicle, too.
"Aren't we supposed to be on the lookout for big trucks?" Archie asked.
"Put the flashers on," Darla said.
Archie hit the button, and red warning lights lit up around the booth.
"He's still coming," said Darla.
Archie pointed. "Looks like he's speeding up."
"Contact the night supervisor!"
While Archie dialed the number, Darla punched another button on her console. Long, metal spikes popped out of the pavement. If the truck tried to pass through the gates now, its tires would be shredded.
She expected the driver to see the spikes and slow his vehicle, but he didn't. The truck kept right on coming, its headlights filling the booth. At the last possible instant, the vehicle swerved away from the tire-shredding spikes sticking out of the roadway and crashed right through the security booth.
The flimsy structure exploded into shards of glass and shattered lights; Darla and Archie were killed instantly; and the Dreizehn Trucking vehicle continued on, through the parking lot. Because of the shift change, the lot was jammed with cars and employees. The truck barreled through them, running down those who reacted too slowly.
The big rig rolled right up to the massive steel doors to the plant — and smashed right through them. Then a white flash lit up the night. With a single deafening blast, the General Aviation Electronics plant was leveled. Eight hundred men and women, fully two-thirds of the plant's workforce, were murdered.
The blast was so powerful, it blew the leaves off trees and turned over cars on Route 4. Miles away, windows in homes and businesses near Rutland's famed historic district were shattered.
Flames quickly spread to a nearby battery factory, where a half-dozen chemical tanks ruptured, spewing millions of metric tons of poisonous fumes into the air.
As the cloud of toxic death spread, birds fell from the frees, their feathered carcasses dropping onto lawns and streets. Hundreds of people, tucked into their cozy homes for the night, succumbed immediately. Minivans and SUVs ran up into yards and through fences as their drivers instantly perished.
In the next few minutes, many more would die as a hellish orange glow spread out over Rutland, smothering the night sky, extinguishing every last point of light in the clear, cloudless heavens.
17
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 11:00 P.M. AND 12:00 A.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
11:03:26 P.M. EDT
Ivy Avenue at Beacon Street
Newark, New Jersey
"God go with you," the old man said in Spanish.
"Gracias, Padre" Tony replied. Then he turned from the scarred metal door, glanced up and down the deserted