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Deadline
(1993)
New York Times reporter Jack McMorrow flees the big city to take over a weekly newspaper in an isolated paper-mill town in the hills of western Maine. Androscoggin is a place where everyone seems to have a secret in their past--and in their present. When McMorrow's photographer turns up dead, drowned in a mill canal, McMorrow begins to probe the darker reaches of the town and the lives of its quirky residents. He soon finds, at his own peril, that Androscoggin's secrets are deadly. I stood in the water and watched him and felt very tired. Hypothermia. I was, quite simply, freezing to death. I couldn't feel my feet. My hands were blue. I took one hand off the wall and tried to flex my fingers. They moved. Barely. Vern was sinking as the air leaked from his jacket. Air pockets, I thought. Guns in his pockets. The gun. It had hit the wall but hadn't come down. If I could fire the gun, somebody might hear. Somebody might come. They might come in time. I slid my hands together on the wall and tried to pull my sleeve off. My fingers wouldn't close on the parka. I clasped one hand with the other and let it call into the water at my feet. It was wet and heavy and I wondered if I could lift it. I pulled it to my waist and water streamed down my legs. I spread them and swung the parka over my shoulder. Then, like a hook shot in basketball, I swung it toward the top of the wall. It hit a foot short. Once. Twice. Three times. Each time gathering it up from the water became harder. I was freezing. I couldn't feel the cold. I couldn't feel much of anything. Time was running out. |
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