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Doomsday Approaching _ Stephen King _ txt Fiction (28th Nov 22 at 2:33am UTC)
"We have to assume the worst." Said Stuckey, pursing his lips with an eerie smile. He pointed to the yellow telegraph paper on the table. It's out of control now. Outbreaks have been seen in Oregon, Nebraska, Louisiana, Florida, and in Mexico and Chile. When we lost Atlanta, we also lost three people who were able to deal with the problem extremely well. We don't know where we're going with Stuart Redman. Did you know they gave him a blue virus? He thought it was a pain shot. He fought off the virus, but no one had any other ideas. If we can have six weeks, we may have achieved the desired goal. But we don't have time. The flu story couldn't be better made up, but it's mandatory-mandatory,PET blow moulding machine, you know? Just as the United States has created this situation artificially, no one else will see it clearly at any time. This kind of thing may give them some illusions. "Cleveland had eight or 10 people in the Soviet Union, five or 10 people in each of the European satellite countries, and I don't even know how many people there were in Red China." Stuckey's lips quivered again. "When you see Cleveland this afternoon,Vegetable oil filling machine, you'll tell him that Rome has fallen.". You won't forget, will you? "No." Ryan said. His lips felt a strange coldness. But do you really expect them to do it? These men and women? Our people got these vials a week ago. They believe they contain radioactive particles guided by our space-faring satellites. That's all they need to know, isn't it? Ryan? "Yes, Billy." And if things are to change from bad to … Worse still, no one will ever know. The blue project will not be penetrated to the end. We can be sure of that. A new virus, a variant.. Our opponents may speculate, but time is running out. It's a close race, Ryan. "That's right." Stuckey stared at the monitor again. My daughter gave me a book of poetry a few years ago. It was written by a man named Izz. She said that every soldier should read Izz's poems. I think her idea is a kind of joke. Have you ever heard of Izz? Ryan? "I think so." Said Creighton. He thought about it and finally gave up the idea of telling Starkey that the man was called Izz. "I read every line of the poem, Blowing Filling Capping combiblock ,juice filling machine," Stuckey said, staring into the long-silent cafeteria, "mostly because she didn't think I could read it. The mistake is to jump to conclusions. Although there were many things I didn't understand — I think a big man must be crazy — I finished reading the poem. It's a funny book, and it's not particularly rhythmic. But there is one song that I will never forget. As the man described it, everything I dedicated myself to seemed hopeless and hell-bound. He said that everything will disappear and the core will not be maintained. I think he means things fall apart, Ryan. I believe his story. Izz knew that in the end everything was going to go away, even though he didn't know if anything was going to go away. "That's right, chief." Creighton said quietly. I got goose bumps the first time I read it, and I still do. I memorized some of them. The ferocious beast will eventually become good? Can the malaise that goes to Bethlehem be reborn? Creighton stood silent and had nothing to say. The beast still goes its own way. Stuckey turned and grinned, with tears streaming down his face. "They still go their own way, even more ferocious than Izz could have imagined.". The world is falling apart. Do as much as you can for as long as you can. "All right, chief," Creighton said, feeling the stinging tears in his eyes for the first time. "Here's the thing, Billy." Stuckey held out a hand and Creighton took it in both hands. Starkey's hands were rough and cool, like small animals wrapped in snakeskin, leaving only the fragile bones of reptiles in their shells.
Tears welled up in Starkey's sockets and ran down his carefully shaved cheeks. "There's something I want you to do," Stuckey said. Go ahead, chief. Stuckey removed the West Point ring from his right hand and the wedding ring from his left hand. "For Cindy," he said. "For my daughter Cindy.". I'd like you to give these to her, Ryan. "I will." Stuckey made his way to the door. Billy? Ryan Creighton called after him. Starkey turned around. Creighton stood erect, tears running down his cheeks. He raised his hand in a military salute. Stuckey turned again and walked out the door. The elevator goes up and down frequently. The alarm screamed with a mournful sound, as if it knew it was warning of a situation that had been missed-Starkey opened the elevator with a special key on top of the elevator. Stuckey speculated that Lane Creighton might have been staring at him on the tracking display as he drove the Jeep through the sprawling unoccupied level of the test site, past the gate marked "High Security Area, No Entry Without Special Permission.". Checkpoints look like expressway tollbooth checkpoints. The soldiers behind the pale yellow glass were dead,Edible oil filling machine, quickly mummified in the dry heat of the desert. The kiosk is bulletproof, but it doesn't stop germs. Their sunken glass eyes still stared impassively at Stuckey as he drove past, and Stuckey himself was the only one moving along the dirty road crisscrossed by semi-circular mobile homes and low-rise buildings.
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