The World's End Series Book One: Dymond's World Read Online Free Page B

him and he turned off the radio.
    "Another day of happy news," she said as she reached for his hand.  "It's getting worse, isn't it, Vic."
    "Yeah, I think so.  You know old man Jennings, right?  He lives down near Missoula."
    She nodded her agreement.  "Yesterday, I fixed his old Chevy.  Fuel pump went bad, it would hardly run.  I knew he was living on social security so I just charged him for the parts. He drove away happy as a clam and then came speeding back, spitting mad.  He screamed that I'd broken his radio - all it would get was static.
    "It was just that it had lost its programming when I had to disconnect the battery.  I helped him lock in the stations.  He told me he was ashamed at how he acted. 'I don't know what came over me, Vic.  It just seems like there's pressure, you know?  Pressure everywhere, like things are gonna explode. I didn't mean to yell at you.  I guess I'm just a crazy old fool.  I don't think I'll mind leaving this world when the time comes.'
    "I told him everything was fine and that he shouldn't talk such nonsense.  He left happy, but I know what he meant about the pressure.  I think we all feel it."
    Mary squeezed his hand.  "I know what you mean.  I see it just about every day in the schools - kids getting in fights, not learning, teachers unhappy. The math teacher, Lis Truijillo, came to me the other day and asked for a refill on her prescription - Doc Smith is away and I'm watching out for his patients.
    "Anyway, he's got her on Xanax.  She told me her marriage was on the rocks and the kids were almost too much for her to handle.  She said 'They won't listen, Mary.  They don't even care.'  She started to cry right there in my little office. I think the tears helped more than the drugs."
    "Did you give her the refill?"
    "Yes, I'm just a physician's assistant.  If Doc Smith prescribed them, I'm expected to continue his treatment plan."
    They sat in silence for several seconds.  Mary moved closer to Victor and kissed him.  She whispered in his ear, "I'm so glad we've got this place."
    Zoe appeared and leapt into her mom's lap.  "Me too!" she squealed. "Kiss!"

Airport
    The security line for the B concourse at Chicago’s O’Hare airport literally snaked back and forth.  During slow periods there would often be only two lines with a single one hundred eighty degree turn at the end.
    Today, Dillon Wexford counted six lines as he saw a uniformed TSA agent move to configure the crowd control stanchions to add a seventh.  The next couple of hours were going to be tough, not only on the passengers, but on him as well.
    As a trained TSA Behavioral Detection Officer, the stress to the flying public caused by the long lines and potentially missed flights resulted in a variety of reactions.  Some people became nervous, checking the time every few seconds.  Others were visibly angry or displayed short tempers with their traveling companions or children.
    All of these served to make it hard for him to find the person who wasn't quite right - who smiled too much, or stuttered when asked a simple question about how their day was going.  He stood in full uniform near the initial check-in desk, observed the flying public, and engaged in an innocuous conversation when he saw someone who sparked his interest.
    He'd been trained to look for ninety four separate behaviors that might indicate a passenger was perhaps up to no good, but as he grew more experienced, he developed the ability to judge the whole "package" that was an individual.  If something set off an alarm for him, that passenger was targeted for enhanced scrutiny once they got to the screening area.
    Dillon knew that, in the entire history of the TSA, they had never actually captured a terrorist in the act of trying to get on a plane.  The agency wore this as a badge of honor - if bad guys knew they were being watched, there was little incentive to risk detection.
    And Dillon knew their behavioral detection program