The old lady's blue eyes were shrewd. "You mean you don't think I would survive."
"There's that," Nic admitted. "But those people might be right. There might be poisonous gas outside. If it's the type of gas I think it is, we're better off not being close to the ground--the gas is heavier than air." As she spoke, she pulled out her BlackBerry.
Leif had sent her another message, but she must have been too distracted to notice it. It said: WHERE R U?
Her thumbs flew over the tiny keyboard. 7 FLR. 2 CROWDED 2 LV.
A second later, she had his response. COMING 4 U.
When she looked back up from the tiny screen, Mrs. Lofland was staring up at the ceiling. More specifically, at the square air vents set in the acoustical tile. "But doesn't the building bring in air from outside?" she asked.
"Yes," Nic said, unholstering her Glock. "Which is why I am going to do this."
Chapter 7
Downtown Portland n Cassidy's IFB, the earpiece that had been specially molded for her ear, Eric's voice said, "You're on!" She and Andy were standing on a sidewalk, two islands in the middle of a swift-running stream of people.
Cassidy took a deep breath. In the back of her mind, she monitored how the air tasted, how it smelled, and registered nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. At the same time she said in measured tones, "This is Cassidy Shaw, reporting live for Channel 4 from downtown Portland. The scene here this morning is one of panic."
In any disaster, the media served as a conduit for information. You told victims what to do, you provided facts to the general public, and you informed everyone about what was needed and how they should respond.
And of course, ratings would never be higher--which would make the suits happy. Even if commercials had to be temporarily suspended.
Cassidy concentrated on speaking as smoothly as if she were seated behind the anchor's desk instead of watching an entire city melt down around her. On 9/11, people 'had turned to their TVs for reassurance, listened to Mike Wallace calmly explain what was known and what was not, watched Peter Jennings, his sleeves rolled up and his demeanor unflappable, as he did his best to inform them for hour after endless hour. Cassidy could do no less, no matter that people were tearing past her, running in a blind panic, sirens shrieking all around them.
As a reporter, you had to put up a wall between yourself and the situation. You noted who, what, when, where, why, and how--but at the same time you kept your distance from it, the way a doctor could joke in the emergency room even as the blood of a dying man soaked his scrubs. Cassidy's job was to make sure that the information she gave out was at least of some help to a terrified city.
"We are hearing that KNWS on Salmon Street is the epicenter of the event. There are reports that some kind of gas leak or possibly a deliberate release of poisonous gas occurred there, and we have unconfirmed reports of at least one fatality. People in the downtown core are complaining of dizziness, shortness of breath, and nausea. As you can see on your screen, the ambulance crews and firefighters are working as fast and furiously as they can, trying to get to these people and put them on stretchers and get them to the hospital. It is really a chaotic situation. People are frantically trying to find friends and coworkers."
The images around her were sharp and indelible, but at the same time everything was a blur. Cassidy was working on instinct, trusting her thoughts to organize themselves as she opened her mouth and let the words pour forth.
"Just from where I stand, I can see five ambulances, as well as innumerable fire trucks and police cars. Sirens are wailing, and people are running out in the street, which is completely gridlocked as everyone tries to follow the mayor's earlier order to evacuate downtown. Folks are leaving their purses and their personal belongings behind, just clearing out of the buildings and getting away from the area as fast as they can. Some people are crying, some screaming in panic, some madly dialing cell phones that are no longer working. Some people are coughing, gagging, and stumbling in a daze, but with no evident injuries."
Brad's voice broke in, higher pitched than normal. Viewers might attribute it to excitement, but Cassidy knew it for what it was: fear.
"Cassidy, are you sure it's safe for you and your cameraman to be there?"
She made a show of taking another long breath, even though deep down, part of it was not for show. Still, no alarm bells went off in her brain as she inhaled. The air smelled familiar, if not exactly fresh. "So far, so good. Even so, we still must advise everyone to stay away from downtown. All the major egress routes are jammed." Cassidy was secretly pleased that she could summon up the word egress when part of her was screaming that she should just turn tail and get out of there.