cb.booksofblood2- 第22部分

　
　THE　CAR　COUGHED；　and　choked；　and　died。　Davidson　was　suddenly　aware　of　the　wind　on　the　desert　road；　as　it　keened　at　the　windows　of　his　Mustang。　He　tried　to　revive　the　engine；　but　it　refused　life。　Exasperated；　Davidson　let　his　sweating　hands　drop　off　the　wheel　and　surveyed　the　territory。　In　every　direction；　hot　air；　hot　rock；　hot　sand。　This　was　Arizona。
　He　opened　the　door　and　stepped　out　on　to　the　baking　dust　highway。　In　front　and　behind　it　stretched　unswervingly　to　the　pale　horizon。　If　he　narrowed　his　eyes　he　could　just　make　out　the　mountains；　but　as　soon　as　he　attempted　to　fix　his　focus　they　were　eaten　up　by　the　heat…haze。　Already　the　sun　was　corroding　the　top　of　his　head；　where　his　blond　hair　was　thinning。　He　threw　up　the　hood　of　the　car　and　peered　hopelessly　into　the　engine；　regretting　his　lack　of　mechanical　know…how。　Jesus；　he　thought；　why　don't　they　make　the　damn　things　foolproof？　Then　he　heard　the　music。
　It　was　so　far　off　it　sounded　like　a　whistling　in　his　ears　at　first：　but　it　became　louder。
　It　was　music；　of　a　sort。
　How　did　it　sound？　Like　the　wind　through　telephone　lines；　a　sourceless；　rhythmless；　heartless　air…wave　plucking　at　the　hairs　on　the　back　of　his　neck　and　telling　them　to　stand。　He　tried　to　ignore　it；　but　it　wouldn't　go　away。
　He　looked　up　out　of　the　shade　of　the　bonnet　to　find　the　players；　but　the　road　was　empty　in　both　directions。　Only　as　he　scanned　the　desert　to　the　south…east　did　a　line　of　tiny　figures　bee　visible　to　him；　walking；　or　skipping；　or　dancing　at　the　furthest　edge　of　his　sight；　liquid　in　the　heat　of　the　earth。　The　procession；　if　that　was　its　nature；　was　long；　and　making　its　way　across　the　desert　parallel　to　the　highway。　Their　paths　would　not　cross。
　Davidson　glanced　down　once　more　into　the　cooling　entrails　of　his　vehicle　and　then　up　again　at　the　distant　line　of　dancers。
　He　needed　help：　no　doubt　of　it。
　He　started　off　across　the　desert　towards　them。
　Once　off　the　highway　the　dust；　not　impacted　by　the　passage　of　cars；　was　loose：　it　flung　itself　up　at　his　face　with　every　step。　Progress　was　slow：　he　broke　into　a　trot：
　but　they　were　receding　from　him。　He　began　to　run。
　Over　the　thunder　of　his　blood；　he　could　hear　the　music　more　loudly　now。　There　was　no　melody　apparent；　but　a　constant　rising　and　falling　of　many　instruments；　howls　and　hummings；　whistlings；　drummings　and　roarings。
　The　head　of　the　procession　had　now　disappeared；　received　into　distance；　but　the　celebrants　（if　that　they　were）　still　paraded　past。　He　changed　direction　a　little；　to　head　them　off；　glancing　over　his　shoulder　briefly　to　check　his　way　back。　With　a　stomach…churning　sense　of　loneliness　he　saw　his　vehicle；　as　small　as　a　beetle　on　the　road　behind　him；　sitting　weighed　down　by　a　boiling　sky。
　He　ran　on。　A　quarter　of　an　hour；　perhaps；　and　he　began　to　see　the　procession　more　clearly；　though　its　leaders　were　well　out　of　sight。　It　was；　he　began　to　believe；　a　carnival　of　some　sort；　extraordinary　as　that　seemed　out　here　in　the　middle　of　God's　nowhere。　The　last　dancers　in　the　parade　were　definitely　costumed；　however。　They　wore　headdresses　and　masks　that　tottered　well　above　human　height　…　there　was　the　flutter　of　brightly…coloured　feathers；　and　streamers　coiling　in　the　air　behind　them。　Whatever　the　reason　for　the　celebration　they　reeled　like　drunkards；　loping　one　moment；　leaping　the　next；　squirming；　some　of　them；　on　the　ground；　bellies　to　the　hot　sand。
　Davidson's　lungs　were　torn　with　exhaustion；　and　it　was　clear　he　was　losing　the　pursuit。　Having　gained　on　the　procession；　it　was　now　moving　off　faster　than　he　had　strength　or　willpower　to　follow。
　He　stopped；　bracing　his　arms　on　his　knees　to　support　his　aching　torso；　and　looked　under　his　sweat…sodden　brow　at　his　disappearing　salvation。　Then；　summoning　up　all　the　energy　he　could　muster；　he　yelled：
　Stop！
　At　first　there　was　no　response。　Then；　through　the　slits　of　his　eyes；　he　thought　he　saw　one　or　two　of　the　revelers　halt。　He　straightened　up。　Yes；　one　or　two　were　looking　at　him。　He　felt；　rather　than　saw；　their　eyes　upon　him。
　He　began　to　walk　towards　them。
　Some　of　the　instruments　had　died　away；　as　though　word　of　his　presence　was　spreading　among　them。　They'd　definitely　seen　him；　no　doubt　of　that。
　
　He　walked　on；　faster　now；　and　out　of　the　haze；　the　details　of　the　procession　began　to　e　clear。
　His　pace　slowed　a　little。　His　heart；　already　pounding　with　exertion；　thudded　in　his　chest。
　…　My　Jesus；　he　said；　and　for　the　first　time　in　his　thirty…six　godless　years　the　words　were　a　true　prayer。
　He　stood　off　half　a　mile　from　them；　but　there　was　no　mistaking　what　he　saw。　His　aching　eyes　knew　papier…maché　from　flesh；　illusion　from　misshapen　reality。
　The　creatures　at　the　end　of　the　procession；　the　least　of　the　least；　the　hangers…on；　were　monsters　whose　appearance　beggared　the　nightmares　of　insanity。
　One　was　perhaps　eighteen　or　twenty　feet　tall。　Its　skin；　that　hung　in　folds　on　its　muscle；　was　a　sheath　of　spikes；　its　head　a　cone　of　exposed　teeth；　set　in　scarlet　gums。　Another　was　three…winged；　its　triple　ended　tail　thrashing　the　dust　with　reptilian　enthusiasm。　A　third　and　fourth　were　married　together　in　a　union　of　monstrosities　the　result　of　which　was　more　disgusting　than　the　sum　of　its　parts。　Through　its　length　and　breadth　this　symbiotic　horror　was　locked　in　seeping　marriage；　its　limbs　thrust　in　and　through　wounds　in　its　partner's　flesh。　Though　the　tongues　of　its　heads　were　wound　together　it　managed　a　cacophonous　howl。
　Davidson　took　a　step　back；　and　glanced　round　at　the　car　and　the　highway。　As　he　did　so　one　of　the　things；　black　and　red；　began　to　scream　like　a　whistle。　Even　at　a　half　mile's　distance　the　noise　cut　into　Davidson's　head。　He　looked　back　at　the　procession。
　The　whistling　monster　had　left　its　place　in　the　parade；　and　its　clawed　feet　were　pounding　the　desert　as　it　began　to　race　towards　him。　Uncontrollable　panic　swept　through　Davidson；　and　he　felt　his　trousers　fill　as　his　bowels　failed　him。
　
　The　thing　was　rushing　towards　him　with　the　speed　of　a　cheetah；　growing　with　every　second；　so　he　could　see　more　detail　of　its　alien　anatomy　with　every　step。　The　thumbless　hands　with　their　toothed　palms；　the　head　that　bore　only　a　tri…coloured　eye；　the　sinew　of　its　shoulder　and　chest；　even　its　genitals；　erect　with　anger；　or　（God　help　me）　lust；　two…pronged　and　beating　against　its　abdomen。
　Davidson　shrieked　a　shriek　that　was　almost　the　equal　of　the　monster's　noise；　and　fled　back　the　way　he　had　e。
　The　car　was　a　mile；　two　miles　away；　and　he　knew　it　offered　no　protection　were　he　to　reach　it　before　the　monster　overcame　him。　In　that　moment　he　realized　how　close　death　was；　how　close　it　had　always　been；　and　he　longed　for　a　moment's　prehension　of　this　idiot　honor。
　It　was　already　close　behind　him　as　his　shit…slimed　legs　buckled；　and　he　fell；　and　crawled；　and　dragged　himself　towards　the　car。　As　he　heard　the　thud　of　its　feet　at　his　back　he　instinctively　huddled　into　a　ball　of　whimpering　flesh；　and　awaited　the　coup　de　grace。
　He　waited　two　heart…beats。
　Three。　Four。　Still　it　didn't　e。
　The　whistling　voice　had　grown　to　an　unbearable　pitch；　and　was　now　fading　a　little。　The　gnashing　palms　did　not　connect　with　his　body。　Cautiously；　expecting　his　head　to　be　snapped　from　his　neck　at　any　moment；　he　peered　through　his　fingers。
　The　creature　had　overtaken　him。
　Perhaps　contemptuous　of　his　frailty　it　had　run　on　past　him　towards　the　highway。
　Davidson　smelt　his　excrement；　and　his　fear。　He　felt　curiously　ignored。　Behind　him　the　parade　had　moved　on。　Only　one　or　two　inquisitive　monsters　still　looked　over　theft　shoulders　in　his　direction；　as　they　receded　into　the　dust。
　
　The　whistling　now　changed　pitch。　Davidson　cautiously　raised　his　head　from　ground　level。　The　noise　was　all　but　outside　his　hearing…range；　just　a　shrill　whine　at　the　back　of　his　aching　head。
　He　stood　up。
　The　creature　had　leapt　on　to　the　top　of　his　car。　Its　head　was　thrown　back　in　a　kind　of　ecstasy；　its　erection　plainer　than　ever；　the　eye　in　its　huge　head　glinting。　With　a　final　swoop　to　its　voice；　which　took　the　whistle　out　of　human　hearing；　it　bent　upon　the　car；　smashing　the　windshield　and　curling　its　mouthed　hands　upon　the　roof。　It　then　proceeded　to　tear　the　steel　back　like　so　much　paper；　its　body　twitching　with　glee；　its　head　jerking　about。　Once　the　roof　was　torn　up；　it　leapt　on　to　the　highway　and　threw　the　metal　into　the　air。　It　turned　in　the　sky　and　smashed　down　on　the　desert　floor。　Davidson　briefly　wondered　what　he　could　possibly　put　on　the　insurance　form。　Now　the　creature　was　tearing　the　vehicle　apart。　The　doors　were　scattered。　The　engine　was　ripped　out。　The　wheels　slashed　and　wrenched　off　the　axles。
　To　Davidson's　nostrils　there　drifted　the　unmistakable　stench　of　gasoline。　No　sooner　had　he　registered　the　smell　than　a　shard　of　metal　glanced　against　another　and　the　creature　and　the　car　were　sheathed　in　a　billowing　column　of　fire；　blackening　into　smoke　as　it　balled　over　the　highway。
　The　thing　did　not　call　out：　or　if　it　did　its　agonies　were　beyond　hearing。　It　staggered　out　of　the　inferno　with　its　flesh　on　fire；　every　inch　of　its　body　alight；　its　arms　flailed　wildly　in　a　vain　attempt　to　douse　the　fire；　and　it　began　to　run　off　down　the　highway；　fleeing　from　the　source　of　its　ago