Part 6 (2/2)
Croyd rose then, not wanting his view blocked; and because he was near he found a good spot. He did not look at the accident, however, but continued to stare upward.
”Caved in his trunk,” Joe Sarzanno said.
”What?” a girl asked.
Croyd heard the distant booming sounds now. The plane was no longer in sight.
”What's the noise?” Bobby asked.
”Antiaircraft fire,” Croyd said.
”You're nuts!”
”They're trying to shoot the things down, whatever they are.”
”Yeah. Sure. Just like in the movies.”
The clouds began to close again. But as they did, Croyd thought that he glimpsed the jet once more, sweeping in on a collision course with the blimps. His view was blocked then, before he could be sure.
”d.a.m.n!” he said. ”Get 'em, Jetboy!”
Bobby laughed and Croyd shoved him, hard.
”Hey! Watch who you're pus.h.i.+ng!”
Croyd turned toward him, but Bobby did not seem to want to pursue the matter. He was looking out of the window again, pointing.
”Why are all those people running?”
”I don't know.”
”Is it the accident?”
”Naw.”
”Look! There's another!”
A blue Studebaker had swung rapidly about the corner, swerved to miss the two stopped vehicles, and clipped an oncoming Ford. Both cars were turned at an angle. Other vehicles braked and halted to avoid colliding with them. Several horns began to sound. The m.u.f.fled noises of antiaircraft fire continued within the wail of sirens. People were rus.h.i.+ng along the streets now, not even pausing to regard the accidents.
”Do you think the war started again?” Charlotte asked.
”I don't know,” Leo said.
The sound of a police siren was suddenly mixed with the other noises.
”Jeez!” Bobby said. ”Here comes another!”
Before he finished speaking a Pontiac had run into the rear of one of the stopped vehicles. Three pairs of drivers confronted each other on foot; one couple angrily, the others simply talking and occasionally pointing upward. Shortly, they all departed and hurried off along the street.
”This is no drill,” Joe said.
”I know,” Croyd answered, staring at the area where a cloud had grown pink from the brightness it masked. ”I think it's something real bad.”
He moved back from the window.
”I'm going home now,” he said.
”You'll get in trouble,” Charlotte told him.
He glanced at the clock.
”I'll bet the bell rings before she gets back,” he answered. ”If you don't go now I don't think they'll let you go with whatever that is going on-and I want to go home.”
He turned away and crossed to the door.
”I'm going, too,” Joe said.
”You'll both get in trouble.”
They pa.s.sed along the hallway. As they neared the front door an adult voice, masculine, called out from up the hall, ”You two! Come back here!”
Croyd ran, shouldered open the big green door, and kept going. Joe was only a step behind him as he descended the steps. The street was full of stopped cars now, for as far as he could see in either direction. There were people on the tops of buildings and people at every window, most of them looking upward.
He rushed to the sidewalk and turned right. His home was six blocks to the south, in an anomalous group of row houses in the eighties. Joe's route took him half that way, then off to the east.
Before they reached the corner they were halted as a stream of people flowed from the side street to the right, cutting into their line of pedestrian traffic, some turning north and trying to push through, others heading south. The boys heard cursing and the sound of a fistfight from up ahead.
Joe reached out and tugged at a man's sleeve. The man jerked his arm away, then looked down.
”What's happening?” Joe shouted.
”Some kind of bomb,” the man answered. ”Jetboy tried to stop the guys who had it. I think they were all blown up. The thing might go off any minute. Maybe atomic.”
”Where'd it fall?” Croyd yelled.
<script>