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Darkly dreaming Dexter :: Lindsay Jeffry P.
Страница: 128 из 160“No way,” he said.
“Way,” I told him.
He stared at me, and then at Deb, his jaw hanging open. “Awesome,” he breathed. “No shit? I mean- No, really? I mean-” He blushed even harder.
“Can we look at the pictures?” Deb said. He stood still for a second, then plunged into the chair at the desk and touched the mouse. Immediately the screen came to life, and he began typing and mouse-clicking furiously. “What time should I start?”
“What time did everybody leave?” Deborah asked him.
He shrugged. “We were empty last night. Everybody gone by, what-eight o'clock?”
“Start at midnight,” I said, and he nodded.
“'Kay,” he said. He worked quietly for a moment, then, “Come on,” he mumbled. “It's only like a six hundred megaherz,” he said. “They won't update. They keep saying it's fine, but sooooo freaking slow, and it won't- Okay,” he said, breaking off suddenly.
A dark image appeared on the monitor: the empty parking lot below us. “Midnight,” he said, and stared at the screen. After fifteen seconds, the picture changed to the same picture.
“Do we have to watch five hours of this?” Deborah asked.
“Scroll through,” I said. “Look for headlights or something moving.”
“Riiiiiight,” he said. He did some rapid point-and-click, and the pictures began to flip past at one per second. They didn't change much at first; the same dark parking lot, one bright light out at the edge of the picture. After about fifty frames had clicked past, an image jumped into view. “A truck!” Deborah said.
Our pet nerd shook his head. “Security,” he said, and in the next frame the security car was visible.
He kept scrolling, and the pictures rolled by, eternal and unchanging. Every thirty or forty frames we would see the security truck pass, and then nothing. After several minutes of this, the pattern stopped, and there was a long stretch of nothing. “Busted,” my greasy new friend said.
Deborah gave him a hard look. “The camera is broken?”
He looked up at her, blushed again, and looked away. “The security dudes,” he explained. “They totally suck. Every night at, like, three? They park over at the other side and go to sleep.” He nodded at the unchanging pictures scrolling past. “See? Hello! Mr. Security Dude? Hard at work?” He made a wet sound deep in his nose that I had to assume was meant to be laughter. “Not very!” He repeated the snorting sound and started the pictures scrolling again.
“Way,” I told him.
He stared at me, and then at Deb, his jaw hanging open. “Awesome,” he breathed. “No shit? I mean- No, really? I mean-” He blushed even harder.
“Can we look at the pictures?” Deb said. He stood still for a second, then plunged into the chair at the desk and touched the mouse. Immediately the screen came to life, and he began typing and mouse-clicking furiously. “What time should I start?”
“What time did everybody leave?” Deborah asked him.
He shrugged. “We were empty last night. Everybody gone by, what-eight o'clock?”
“Start at midnight,” I said, and he nodded.
“'Kay,” he said. He worked quietly for a moment, then, “Come on,” he mumbled. “It's only like a six hundred megaherz,” he said. “They won't update. They keep saying it's fine, but sooooo freaking slow, and it won't- Okay,” he said, breaking off suddenly.
A dark image appeared on the monitor: the empty parking lot below us. “Midnight,” he said, and stared at the screen. After fifteen seconds, the picture changed to the same picture.
“Do we have to watch five hours of this?” Deborah asked.
“Scroll through,” I said. “Look for headlights or something moving.”
“Riiiiiight,” he said. He did some rapid point-and-click, and the pictures began to flip past at one per second. They didn't change much at first; the same dark parking lot, one bright light out at the edge of the picture. After about fifty frames had clicked past, an image jumped into view. “A truck!” Deborah said.
Our pet nerd shook his head. “Security,” he said, and in the next frame the security car was visible.
He kept scrolling, and the pictures rolled by, eternal and unchanging. Every thirty or forty frames we would see the security truck pass, and then nothing. After several minutes of this, the pattern stopped, and there was a long stretch of nothing. “Busted,” my greasy new friend said.
Deborah gave him a hard look. “The camera is broken?”
He looked up at her, blushed again, and looked away. “The security dudes,” he explained. “They totally suck. Every night at, like, three? They park over at the other side and go to sleep.” He nodded at the unchanging pictures scrolling past. “See? Hello! Mr. Security Dude? Hard at work?” He made a wet sound deep in his nose that I had to assume was meant to be laughter. “Not very!” He repeated the snorting sound and started the pictures scrolling again.