sk.dreamcatcher- 第24部分

CHAPTER　FIVE

DUDDITS；　PART　ONE


1

'Lady'；　Pete　said。
　　　　The　woman　in　the　duffel　coat　said　nothing。　Lay　on　the　sawdusty　piece　of　tarp　and　said　nothing。　Pete　could　see　one　eye；　staring　at　him；　or　through　him；　or　at　the　jellyroll　center　of　the　fucking　universe；　who　knew。　Creepy。　The　fire　crackled　between　them；　really　starting　to　take　hold　and　throw　some　heat　now。　Henry　had　been　gone　about　fifteen　minutes。　It　would　be　three　hours　before　he　made　it　back；　Pete　calculated；　three　hours　at　the　very　least；　and　that　was　a　long　time　to　spend　under　this　lady's　creepy　jackalope　eye。
　　　　'Lady；'　he　said　again。　'You　hear　me？'
　　　　Nothing。　But　once　she　had　yawned；　and　he'd　seen　that　half　her　goddam　teeth　were　gone。　What　the　fuck　was　up　with　that？　And　did　he　really　want　to　know？　The　answer；　Pete　had　discovered；　was　yes　and　no。　He　was　curious　…　he　supposed　a　man　couldn't　help　being　curious　…　but　at　the　same　time　he　didn't　want　to　know。　Not　who　she　was；　not　who　Rick　was　or　what　had　happened　to　him；　and　not　who　'they'　were。　They're　back！　the　woman　had　screamed　when　she　saw　the　lights　in　the　sky；　They're　back！
　　　　'Lady；'　he　said　for　the　third　time。
　　　　Nothing。
　　　　She'd　said　that　Pick　was　the　only　one　left；　and　then　she'd　said　They're　back；　presumably　meaning　the　lights　in　the　sky；　and　since　then　there　had　been　nothing　but　those　unpleasant　burps　and　farts　。　。　。　the　one　yawn；　exposing　all　those　missing　teeth　。　。　。　and　the　eye。　The　creepy　　jackalope　eye。　Henry　had　only　been　gone　fifteen　minutes　he'd　left　at　five　past　twelve　and　it　was　now　twelve…twenty　by　Pete's　watch　…　and　it　felt　like　an　hour　and　a　half　This　was　going　to　be　one　long　fucking　day；　and　if　he　was　going　to　get　through　it　without　cracking　up　（he　kept　thinking　of　some　story　they'd　had　to　read　in　the　eighth　grade；　he　couldn't　remember　who　wrote　it；　only　that　the　guy　in　the　story　had　killed　this　old　man　because　he　couldn't　stand　the　old　man's　eye；　and　at　the　time　Pete　hadn't　understood　that　but　now　he　did；　yessir）；　he　needed　something。
　　　　'Lady；　do　you　hear　me？'
　　　　Nada。　Just　the　creepy　jackalope　eye。
　　　　'I　have　to　go　back　to　the　car　because　I　kind　of　forgot　something。　But　you'll　be　all　right。　Won't　you？'
　　　　No　answer　…　and　then　she　let　loose　with　another　of　those　long　buzz…saw　farts；　her　face　wrinkling　up　as　she　let　go；　as　if　it　hurt　her　。　。　。　and　probably　it　did；　something　that　sounded　like　that　just　about　had　to　hurt。　And　even　though　Pete　had　been　careful　to　get　upwind；　some　of　the　smell　came　to　him　…　hot　and　rank　but　somehow　not　human。　Nor　did　it　smell　like　cow…farts。　He　had　worked　for　Lionel　Sylvester　as　a　kid；　he'd　milked　more　than　his　share　of　cows；　and　sometimes　they　blew　gas　at　you　while　you　were　on　the　stool；　sure　…　a　heavy　green　smell；　a　marshy　smell。　This　wasn't　like　that；　not　a　bit。　This　was　like　。　。　。　well；　like　when　you　were　a　kid　and　got　your　first　chemistry　set；　and　after　awhile　you　got　tired　of　the　faggy　little　experiments　in　the　booklet　and　just　went　hogwild　and　mixed　all　that　shit　together；　just　to　see　if　it　would　explode。　And；　he　realized；　that　was　part　of　what　was　troubling　him；　part　of　what　was　making　him　nervous。　Except　that　was　stupid。　People　didn't　just　explode；　did　they？　Still；　he　had　to　get　him　a　little　help　here。　Because　she　was　giving　him　the　Willies；　bigtime。
　　　　He　got　two　of　the　pieces　of　wood　Henry　had　scrounged；　added　them　to　the　fire；　debated；　and　added　a　third。　Sparks　rose；　whirling；　and　winked　out　against　the　sloping　piece　of　corrugated　tin。　'I'll　be　back　before　that　all　burns　down；　but　if　you　want　to　add　on　another；　be　my　guest。　Okay？'
　　　　Nothing。　He　suddenly　felt　like　shaking　her；　but　he　had　a　mile　and　a　half　to　walk；　up　to　the　Scout　and　back　here　again；　and　he　had　to　save　his　strength。　Besides；　she'd　probably　fart　again。　Or　burp　right　in　his　face。
　　　　'Okay；'　he　said。　'Silence　gives　consent；　that's　what　Mrs　White　always　used　to　say　back　in　the　fourth　grade。'
　　　　He　got　to　his　feet；　bracing　his　knee　as　he　did　so；　grimacing　and　slipping；　almost　falling；　but　finally　getting　up　because　he　needed　that　beer；　goddammit；　needed　it；　and　there　was　no　one　to　get　it　except　for　him；　Probably　he　was　an　alcoholic。　In　fact；　there　was　no　probably　about　it；　and　he　supposed　eventually　he'd　have　to　do　something　about　it；　but　for　now　he　was　on　his　own；　wasn't　he？　Yes；　because　this　bitch　was　gone；　nothing　left　of　her　but　some　nasty　gas　and　that　creepy　jackalope　eye。　If　she　needed　to　put　some　more　wood　on　the　fire　she'd　just　have　to　do　it；　but　she　wouldn't　need　to；　he'd　be　back　long　before　then。　It　was　only　a　mile　and　a　half。　Surely　his　leg　would　hold　him　that　long。
　　　　'I'll　be　back；'　he　said。　He　leaned　over　and　massaged　his　knee。　Stiff；　but　not　too　bad。　Really　not　too　bad。　He'd　just　put　the　beer　in　a　bag　…　maybe　a　box　of　Hi　Ho　crackers　for　the　bitch　while　he　was　at　it　…　and　be　right　back。　'You　sure　you're　okay？'
　　　　Nothing。　Just　the　eye。
　　　　'Silence　gives　consent；'　he　repeated；　and　began　walking　back　up　the　Deep　Cut　Road；　following　the　wide　drag…mark　of　the　tarpaulin　and　their　almost…filled…in　tracks。　He　walked　in　little　hitches；　pausing　to　rest　every　ten　or　twelve　steps　。　。　。　and　to　massage　his　knee。　He　stopped　once　to　look　back　at　the　fire。　It　already　looked　small　and　insubstantial　in　the　gray　early　afternoon　light。　'This　is　fuckin　crazy；'　he　said　once；　but　he　kept　on　going。


2

He　got　to　the　end　of　the　straight　stretch　all　right；　and　halfway　up　the　hill　all　right。　He　was　just　starting　to　walk　a　little　faster；　to　trust　the　knee　a　little　when　…　ha…ha；　asshole；　fooled　ya　…　it　locked　again；　turning　to　something　that　felt　like　pig…iron；　and　he　went　down；　yelling　squeezed　curses　through　his　clenched　teeth。
　　　　It　was　as　he　sat　there　cursing　in　the　snow　that　he　realized　something　very　odd　was　going　on　out　here。　A　large　buck　went　walking　past　him　on　the　left；　with　no　more　than　a　quick　glance　at　the　human　from　which　it　would　have　fled　in　great；　springy　bounds　on　any　other　day。　Running　along　almost　under　its　feet　was　a　red　squirrel。
　　　　Pete　sat　there　in　the　lessening　snow　…　huge　flakes　falling　in　a　shifting　wave　that　looked　like　lace　…　with　his　leg　stuck　out　in　front　of　him　and　his　mouth　open。　There　were　more　deer　ing　along　the　road；　other　animals；　too；　walking　and　hopping　like　refugees　fleeing　some　disaster。　There　were　even　more　of　them　in　the　woods；　a　wave　moving　east。
　　　　'Where　you　guys　going？'　he　asked　a　snowshoe　rabbit　that　went　lolloping　past　him　with　its　ears　laid　along　its　back。　'Big　coverall　game　at　the　rez？　Casting　call　for　a　new　Disney　cartoon？　Got　a…'
　　　　He　broke　off；　the　spit　in　his　mouth　drying　up　to　something　that　felt　like　an　electric　mist。　A　black　bear；　fat　with　its　pre…hibernation　stuffing；　was　ambling　through　the　screen　of　thin　second…growth　trees　to　his　left。　It　went　with　its　head　down　and　its　rump　switching　from　side　to　side；　and　although　it　never　spared　Pete　so　much　as　a　look；　Pete's　illusions　about　his　place　here　in　the　big　north　woods　were　for　the　first　time　entirely　stripped　away。　He　was　nothing　but　a　heap　of　tasty　white　meat　that　happened　to　still　be　breathing。　Without　his　rifle；　he　was　more　defenseless　than　the　squirrel　he'd　seen　scurrying　around　the　buck's　feet　…　if　noticed　by　a　bear；　the　squirrel　could　at　least　run　up　the　nearest　tree；　all　the　way　to　the　thin　top　branches　where　no　bear　could　possibly　follow。　The　fact　that　this　bear　never　so　much　as　looked　at　him　didn't　make　Pete　feel　much　better。　Where　there　was　one；　there　would　be　more；　and　the　next　one　might　not　be　so　preoccupied。
　　　　Once　he　was　sure　the　bear　was　gone；　Pete　struggled　to　his　feet　again；　his　heart　hammering。　He　had　left　that　foolish　farting　woman　back　there　alone；　but　really；　how　much　protection　would　he　have　been　able　to　provide　if　a　bear　decided　to　attack？　The　thing　was；　he　had　to　get　his　rifle。　Henry's　too；　if　he　could　carry　it。　For　the　next　five　minutes　…　until　he　got　to　the　top　of　the　hill　…　Pete　thought　about　firepower　first　and　beer　second。　By　the　time　he　began　his　cautious　descent　on　the　other　side；　however；　he　was　back　to　beer。　Put　it　in　a　bag　and　hang　the　bag　over　his　shoulder。　And　no　stopping　to　drink　one　on　the　way　back。　He'd　have　one　when　he　was　sitting　in　front　of　the　campfire　again。　It　would　be　a　reward　beer；　and　there　was　nothing　better　than　a　reward　beer。
　　　　You're　an　alcoholic。　You　know　that；　don't　you？　Fucking　alcoholic。
　　　　Yes；　and　what　did　that　mean？　That　you　couldn't　fuck　up。
　　　　Couldn't　get　caught　leaving　a　semi…atose　woman　alone　in　the　woods；　let's　say；　while　you　went　off　in　search　of　the　suds。　And　once　he　got　back　to　the　shelter；　he　had　to　remember　to　toss　his　empties　deep　into　the　woods。　Although　Henry　might　know　anyway。　The　way　they　always　seemed　to　know　stuff　about　each　other　when　they　were　together。　And　mental　link　or　no　mental　link；　you　had　to　get　up　pretty　goddam　early　in　the　morning　to　put　one　over　on　Henry　Devlin。
　　　　Yet　Pete　thought　Henry　would　probably　let　him　alone　about　the　beer。　Unless；　that　was；　Pete　decided　the　time　had　e　to　talk　about　it。　To　maybe　ask　Henry　for　help。　Which　Pete　might　do；　in　time。　Certainly　he　didn't　like　the　way　he　felt　about　himself　right　now；　leaving　that　woman　alone　back　there　said　something　about　Peter　Moore　that　wasn't　so　nice。　But　Henry　。。。　there　was　something　wrong　with