Heat； noise； lights； looks； words； gestures； personalities； appliances。 A colloquial density that makes family life the one medium of sense knowledge in which an astonishment of heart is routinely contained。
I watched the girls municate in hooded looks。
〃Aren't we eating a little early tonight？〃 Denise said。
〃What do you call early？〃 her mother said。
Denise looked at Steffie。
〃Is it because we want to get it out of the way？〃 she said。
〃Why do we want to get it out of the way？〃
〃In case something happens；〃 Steffie said。
〃What could happen？〃 Babette said。
The girls looked at each other again； a solemn and lingering exchange that indicated some dark suspicion was being confirmed。 Air…raid sirens sounded again； this time so close to us that we were negatively affected； shaken to the point of avoiding each other's eyes as a way of denying that something unusual was going on。 The sound came from our own red brick firehouse； sirens that hadn't been tested in a decade or more。 They made a noise like some territorial squawk from out of the Mesozoic。 A parrot carnivore with a DC…9 wingspan。 What a raucousness of brute aggression filled the house； making it seem as though the walls would fly apart。 So close to us； so surely upon us。 Amazing to think this sonic monster lay hidden nearby for years。
We went on eating； quietly and neatly； reducing the size of our bites； asking politely for things to be passed。 We became meticulous and terse； diminished the scope of our movements； buttered our bread in the manner of technicians restoring a fresco。 Still the horrific squawk went on。 We continued to avoid eye contact； were careful not to clink utensils。 I believe there passed among us the sheepish hope that only in this way could we avoid being noticed。 It was as though the sirens heralded the presence of some controlling mechanism—a thing we would do well not to provoke with our contentiousness and spilled food。
It wasn't until a second noise became audible in the pulse of the powerful sirens that we thought to effect a pause in our little episode of decorous hysteria。 Heinrich ran to the front door and opened it。 The night's bined sounds came washing in with a freshness and renewed immediacy。 For the first time in minutes we looked at each other； knowing the new sound was an amplified voice but not sure what it was saying。 Heinrich returned； walking in an over…deliberate and stylized manner； with elements of stealth。 This seemed to mean he was frozen with significance。
〃They want us to evacuate；〃 he said； not meeting our eyes。
Babette said； 〃Did you get the impression they were only making a suggestion or was it a little more mandatory； do you think？〃
〃It was a fire captain's car with a loudspeaker and it was going pretty fast。〃
I said； 〃In other words you didn't have an opportunity to notice the subtle edges of intonation。〃
〃The voice was screaming out。〃
〃Due to the sirens；〃 Babette said helpfully。
〃It said something like； 'Evacuate all places of residence。 Cloud of deadly chemicals； cloud of deadly chemicals。'〃
We sat there over sponge cake and canned peaches。
〃I'm sure there's plenty of time；〃 Babette said； 〃or they would have made a point of telling us to hurry。 How fast do air masses move； I wonder。〃
Steffie read a coupon for Baby Lux； crying softly。 This brought Denise to life。 She went upstairs to pack some things for all of us。 Heinrich raced two steps at a time to the attic for his binoculars； highway map and radio。 Babette went to the pantry and began gathering tins and jars with familiar life…enhancing labels。
Steffie helped me clear the table。
Twenty minutes later we were in the car。 The voice on the radio said that people in the west end of town were to head for the abandoned Boy Scout camp； where Red Cross volunteers would dispense juice and coffee。 People from the east end were to take the parkway to the fourth service area； where they would proceed to a restaurant called the Kung Fu Palace； a multiwing building with pagodas； lily ponds and live deer。
We were among the lateers in the former group and joined the traffic flow into the main route out of town； a sordid gantlet of used cars； fast food； discount drugs and quad cinemas。 As we waited our turn to edge onto the four…lane road we heard the amplified voice above and behind us calling out to darkened homes in a street of sycamores and tall hedges。
〃Abandon all domiciles； Now； now。 Toxic event； chemical cloud。〃
The voice grew louder； faded； grew loud again as the vehicle moved in and out of local streets。 Toxic event； chemical cloud。 When the words became faint； the cadence itself was still discernible； a recurring sequence in the distance。 It seems that danger assigns to public voices the responsibility of a rhythm； as if in metrical units there is a coherence we can use to balance whatever senseless and furious event is about to e rushing around our heads。
We made it onto the road as snow began to fall。 We had little to say to each other； our minds not yet adjusted to the actuality of things； the absurd fact of evacuation。 Mainly we looked at people in other cars； trying to work out from their faces how frightened we should be。 Traffic moved at a crawl but we thought the pace would pick up some miles down the road where there is a break in the barrier divide that would enable our westbound flow to utilize all four lanes。 The two opposite lanes were empty； which meant police had already halted traffic ing this way。 An encouraging sign。 What people in an exodus fear most immediately is that those in positions of authority will long since have fled； leaving us in charge of our own chaos。
The snow came more thickly； the traffic moved in fits and starts。 There was a life…style sale at a home furnishing mart。 Well…lighted men and women stood by the huge window looking out at us and wondering。 It made us feel like fools； like tourists doing all the wrong things。 Why were they content to shop for furniture while we sat panicky in slowpoke traffic in a snowstorm？ They knew something we didn't。 In a crisis the true facts are whatever other people say they are。 No one's knowledge is less secure than your own。
Air…raid sirens were still sounding in two or more towns。 What could those shoppers know that would make them remain behind while a more or less clear path to safety lay before us all？ I started pushing buttons on the radio。 On a Glassboro station we learned there was new and important information。 People already indoors were being asked to stay indoors。 We were left to guess the meaning of this。 Were the roads impossibly jammed？ Was it snowing Nyodene D。？
I kept punching buttons； hoping to find someone with background information。 A woman identified as a consumer affairs editor began a discussion of the medical problems that could result from personal contact with the airborne toxic event。 Babette and I exchanged a wary glance。 She immediately began talking to the girls while I turned the volume down to keep them from learning what they might imagine was in store for them。
〃Convulsions； a； miscarriage；〃 said the well…informed and sprightly voice。
We passed a three…story motel。 Every room was lighted； every window filled with people staring out at us。 We were a parade of fools； open not only to the effects of chemical fallout but to the scornful judgment of other people。 Why weren't they out here； sitting in heavy coats behind windshield wipers in the silent snow？ It seemed imperative that we get to the Boy Scout camp； scramble into the main building； seal the doors； huddle on camp beds with our juice and coffee； wait for the all…clear。
Cars began to mount the grassy incline at the edge of the road； creating a third lane of severely tilted traffic。 Situated in what had formerly been the righthand lane； we didn't have any choice but to watch these cars pass us at a slightly higher elevation and with a rakish thrust； deviated from the horizontal。
Slowly we approached an overpass； seeing people on foot up there。 They carried boxes and suitcases； objects in blankets； a long line of people leaning into the blowing snow。 People cradling pets and small children； an old man wearing a blanket over his pajamas； two women shouldering a rolled…up rug。 There were people on bicycles； children being pulled on sleds and in wagons。 People with supermarket carts； people clad in every kind of bulky outfit； peering out from deep hoods。 There was a family wrapped pletely in plastic； a single large sheet of transparent polyethylene。 They walked beneath their shield in lock step； the man and woman each at one end； three kids between； all of them secondarily wrapped in shimmering rainwear。 The whole affair had about it a well…rehearsed and self…satisfied look； as though they'd been waiting for months to strut their stuff。 People kept appearing from behind a high rampart and trudging across the overpass； shoulders dusted with snow； hundreds of people moving with a kind of fated determination。 A new round of sirens started up。 The trudging people did not quicken their pace； did not look down at us or into the night sky for some sign of the wind…driven cloud。 They just kept moving across the bridge through patches of snow…raging light。 Out in the open； keeping their children near； carrying what they could； they seemed to be part of some ancient destiny； connected in doom and ruin to a whole history of people trekking across wasted landscapes。 There was an epic quality about them that made me wonder for the first time at the scope of our predicament。 The radio said： 〃It's the rainbow hologram that gives this credit card a marketing intrigue。〃
We moved slowly beneath the overpass； hearing a flurry of automobile horns and the imploring wail of an ambulance stuck in traffic。 Fifty yards ahead the traffic narrowed to one lane and we soon saw why。 One of the cars had skidded off the incline and barreled into a vehicle in our lane。 Horns quacked up and down the line。 A helicopter sat just above us； shining a white beam down on the mass of collapsed metal。 People sat dazed on the grass； being tended to by a pair of bearded paramedics。 Two people were bloo