sk.thewastelands-第44部分

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　　The　sign　on　the　lawn　read
　　ABSOLUTELY　NO　TRESPASSING　UNDER　PENALTY　OF　LAW！
　　The　yellowing；　rust…stained　square　of　paper　nailed　to　one　of　the　boards　crisscrossing　the　front　door　was　more　succinct：
　　BY　ORDER　OF　NYC　HOUSING　AUTHORITY　THIS　PROPERTY　CONDEMNED
　　Jake　paused　at　the　foot　of　the　steps；　looking　up　at　the　door。　He　had　heard　voices　in　the　vacant　lot　and　now　he　could　hear　them　again　。　。　。　but　this　was　a　choir　of　the　damned；　a　babble　of　insane　threats　and　equally　insane　promises。　Yet　he　thought　it　was　all　one　voice。　The　voice　of　the　house；　the　voice　of　some　monstrous　doorkeeper；　roused　from　its　long　unpeaceful　sleep。
　　He　thought　briefly　of　his　father's　Ruger；　even　considered　pulling　it　out　of　his　pack；　but　what　good　would　it　do？　Behind　him；　traffic　passed　back　and　forth　on　Rhinehold　Street　and　a　woman　was　yelling　for　her　daughter　to　stop　holding　hands　with　that　boy　and　bring　in　the　wash；　but　here　was　another　world；　one　ruled　by　some　bleak　being　over　whom　guns　could　have　no　power。
　　Be　true；　Jake…stand。
　　〃Okay；〃　he　said　in　a　low；　shaky　voice。　〃Okay；　I'll　try。　But　you　better　not　drop　me　again。〃
　　Slowly；　he　began　to　mount　the　porch　steps。
　　
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　　THE　BOARDS　WHICH　BARRED　the　door　were　old　and　rotten；　the　nails　rusty。　Jake　grabbed　hold　of　the　top　set　at　the　point　where　they　crossed　each　other　and　yanked。　They　came　free　with　a　squall　that　was　the　gate　all　over　again。　He　tossed　them　over　the　porch　rail　and　into　an　ancient　flowerbed　where　only　witchgrass　and　dogweed　grew。　He　bent；　grasped　the　lower　crossing　。　。　。　and　paused　for　a　moment。
　　A　hollow　sound　came　through　the　door；　the　sound　of　some　animal　slobbering　hungrily　from　deep　inside　a　concrete　pipe。　Jake　felt　a　sick　sheen　of　sweat　begin　to　break　out　on　his　cheeks　and　forehead。　He　was　so　frightened　that　he　no　longer　felt　precisely　real；　he　seemed　to　have　bee　a　character　in　someone　else's　bad　dream。
　　The　evil　choir；　the　evil　presence；　was　behind　this　door。　The　sound　of　it　seeped　out　like　syrup。
　　He　yanked　at　die　lower　boards。　They　came　free　easily。
　　Of　course。　It　wants　me　to　e　in。　It's　hungry；　and　I'm　supposed　to　be　the　main　course。
　　A　snatch　of　poetry　occurred　to　him　suddenly；　something　Ms。　Avery　had　read　to　them。　It　was　supposed　to　be　about　the　plight　of　modern　man；　who　was　cut　off　from　all　his　roots　and　traditions；　but　to　Jake　it　suddenly　seemed　that　the　man　who　had　written　that　poem　must　have　seen　this　house：　/　will　show　you　something　different　from　either/Your　shadow　in　the　morning　striding　behind　you/Or　your　shadow　at　evening　rising　to　meet　you；/I　will　show　you　。　。　。
　　〃I'll　show　you　fear　in　a　handful　of　dust；〃　Jake　muttered；　and　put　his　hand　on　the　doorknob。　And　as　he　did；　that　clear　sense　of　relief　and　surety　flooded　him　again；　the　feeling　that　this　was　it；　this　time　the　door　would　open　on　that　other　world；　he　would　see　a　sky　untouched　by　smog　and　industrial　smoke；　and；　on　the　far　horizon；　not　the　mountains　but　the　hazy　blue　spires　of　some　gorgeous　unknown　city。
　　He　closed　his　fingers　around　the　silver　key　in　his　pocket；　hoping　the　door　was　locked　so　he　could　use　it。　It　wasn't。　The　hinges　screamed　and　flakes　of　rust　sifted　down　from　their　slowly　revolving　cylinders　as　the　door　opened。　The　smell　of　decay　struck　Jake　like　a　physical　blow：　wet　wood；　spongy　plaster；　rotting　laths；　ancient　stuffing。　Below　these　smells　was　another…the　smell　of　some　beast's　lair。　Ahead　was　a　dank；　shadowy　hallway。　To　the　left；　a　staircase　pitched　and　yawed　its　crazy　way　into　the　upper　shadows。　Its　collapsed　banister　lay　splintered　on　the　hallway　floor；　but　Jake　was　not　foolish　enough　to　think　it　was　just　splinters　he　was　looking　at。　There　were　bones　in　that　litter；　as　well…the　bones　of　small　animals。　Some　did　not　look　precisely　like　animal　bones；　and　these　Jake　would　not　look　at　overlong；　he　knew　he　would　never　summon　the　courage　to　go　further　if　he　did。　He　paused　on　the　threshold；　screwing　himself　up　to　take　the　first　step。　He　heard　a　faint；　muffled　sound；　very　hard　and　very　rapid；　and　realized　it　was　his　own　teeth　chattering　in　his　head。
　　Why　doesn't　someone　stop　me？　he　thought　wildly。　Why　doesn't　some…body　passing　on　the　sidewalk　shout　〃Hey；　you！　You're　not　supposed　to　be　in　there…can'tcha　read？〃
　　But　he　knew　why。　Pedestrians　stuck　mostly　to　the　other　side　of　this　street；　and　those　who　came　near　this　house　did　not　linger。
　　Even　if　someone　did　happen　to　look；　they　wouldn't　see　me；　because　I'm　not　really　here。　For　better　or　worse；　I've　already　left　my　world　behind。　I've　started　to　cross　over。　His　world　is　somewhere　ahead。　This　。。。
　　This　was　the　hell　between。
　　Jake　stepped　into　the　corridor；　and　although　he　screamed　when　the　door　swung　shut　behind　him　with　the　sound　of　a　mausoleum　door　being　slammed；　he　wasn't　surprised。
　　Down　deep；　he　wasn't　surprised　at　all。
　　
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　　ONCE　UPON　A　TIME　there　had　been　a　young　woman　named　Detta　Walker　who　liked　to　frequent　the　honky…tonks　and　roadhouses　along　Ridgeline　Road　outside　of　Nutley　and　on　Route　88　down　by　the　power…lines；　out…side　of　Amhigh。　She　had　had　legs　in　those　days；　and；　as　the　song　says；　she　knew　how　to　use　them。　She　would　wear　some　tight　cheap　dress　that　looked　like　silk　but　wasn't　and　dance　with　the　white　boys　while　the　band　played　all　those　ofay　party　tunes　like　〃Double　Shot　of　My　Baby's　Love〃　and　〃The　Hippy…Hippy　Shake。〃　Eventually　she　would　cut　one　of　the　honkeys　out　of　the　pack　and　let　him　lead　her　back　to　his　car　in　the　parking　lot。　There　she　would　make　out　with　him　（one　of　the　world's　great　soul…kissers　was　Detta　Walker；　and　no　slouch　with　the　old　fingernails；　either）　until　he　was　just　about　insane　。　。　。　and　then　she'd　shut　him　down。　What　happened　next？　Well；　that　was　the　question；　wasn't　it？　That　was　the　game。　Some　of　them　wept　and　begged…^all　right；　but　not　great。　Some　of　them　raved　and　roared；　which　was　better。
　　And　although　she　had　been　slapped　upside　the　head；　punched　in　the　eye；　spat　upon；　and　once　kicked　in　the　ass　so　hard　she　had　gone　sprawling　in　the　gravel　parking　lot　of　The　Red　Windmill；　she　had　never　been　raped。　They　had　all　gone　home　with　the　blue　balls；　every　damned　ofay　one　of　them。　Which　meant；　in　Detta　Walker's　book；　that　she　was　the　reigning　champion；　the　undefeated　queen。　Of　what？　Of　them。　Of　all　those　crewcut；　button…down；　tightass　honkey　motherfuckers。
　　Until　now。
　　There　was　no　way　to　withstand　the　demon　who　lived　in　the　speaking　ring。　No　doorhandles　to　grab；　no　car　to　tumble　out　of；　no　building　to　run　back　into；　no　cheek　to　slap；　no　face　to　claw；　no　balls　to　kick　if　the　ofay　sumbitch　was　slow　getting　the　message。
　　The　demon　was　on　her　。　。　。　and　then；　in　a　flash；　it…he…was　in　her。
　　She　could　feel　it…him…pressing　her　backward；　even　though　she　could　not　see　it…him。　She　could　not　see　its…his…hands；　but　she　could　see　their　work　as　her　dress　tore　violently　open　in　several　places。　Then；　suddenly；　pain。　It　felt　as　though　she　were　being　ripped　open　down　there；　and　in　her　agony　and　surprise　she　screamed。　Eddie　looked　around；　his　eyes　narrowing。
　　〃I'm　all　right！〃　she　yelled。　〃Go　on；　Eddie；　forget　about　me！　I'm　all　right！〃
　　But　she　wasn't。　For　the　first　time　since　Detta　had　strode　onto　the　sexual　battlefield　at　the　age　of　thirteen；　she　was　losing。　A　horrid；　engorged　coldness　plunged　into　her；　it　was　like　being　fucked　with　an　icicle。
　　Dimly；　she　saw　Eddie　turn　away　and　begin　drawing　in　the　dirt　again；　his　expression　of　warm　concern　fading　back　into　the　terrible；　concen…trated　coldness　she　sometimes　felt　in　him　and　saw　on　his　face。　Well；　that　was　all　right；　wasn't　it？　She　had　told　him　to　go　on；　to　forget　her；　to　do　what　he　needed　to　do　in　order　to　bring　the　boy　over。　This　was　her　part　of　Jake's　drawing　and　she　had　no　right　to　hate　either　of　the　men；　who　had　not　twisted　her　arm…or　anything　else…to　make　her　do　it；　but　as　the　coldness　froze　her　and　Eddie　turned　away　from　her；　she　hated　them　both；　could；　in　fact；　have　torn　their　honkey　balls　off。
　　Then　Roland　was　with　her；　his　strong　hands　were　on　her　shoulders　and　although　he　didn't　speak；　she　heard　him：　Don't　fight。　You　can't　win　if　you　fight…you　can　only　die。　Sex　is　its　weapon；　Susannah；　but　it's　also　its　weakness。
　　Yes。　It　was　always　their　weakness。　The　only　difference　was　that　this　time　she　was　going　to　have　to　give　a　little　more…but　maybe　that　was　all　right。　Maybe　in　the　end；　she　would　be　able　to　make　this　invisible　honkey　demon　pay　a　little　more。
　　She　forced　herself　to　relax　her　thighs。　Immediately　they　spread　apart；　pushing　long；　curved　fans　in　the　dirt。　She　threw　her　head　back　into　the　rain　which　was　now　pelting　down　and　sensed　its　face　lolling　just　over　hers；　eager　eyes　drinking　in　every　contorted　grimace　which　passed　over　her　face。
　　She　reached　up　with　one　hand；　as　if　to　slap　。　。　。　and　instead；　slid　it　around　the　nape　of　her　demon　rapist's　neck。　It　was　like　cupping　a　palmful　of　solid　smoke。　And　did　she　feel　it　twitch　backward；　surprised　at　her　caress？　She　tilted　her　pelvis　upward；　using　her　grip　on　the　invisible　neck　to　create　the　leverage。　At　the　same　time　she　spread　her　legs　even　wider；　splitting　what　remained　of　her　dress　up　the　side…seams。　God；　it　was　huge！
　　〃e　on；〃　she　panted。　〃You　ain't　gonna　rape　me。　You　ain't。　You　want　t'fuck　me？　I　fuck　you。　I　give　you　a　fuckin　like　you　ain't　nevah　had！　Fuck　you　to　death！〃
　　She　felt　the　engorgement　within　her　tremble；　felt　the　demon　try；　at　least　momentarily；　to　draw　back　and　regroup。
　　〃Unh…unh；　honey；〃　she　croaked。　She　squeezed　her　thighs　inward；　pinning　it。　〃De　fun　jus'　startin'。〃　She　began　to　flex　her　butt；　humping　at　the　invisible　presence。　She　reached　up　with　her　free　hand；　interlaced　all　ten　fingers；　and　allowed　herself　to　fall　backward　with　her　hips　cocked；　her　straining　arms　seeming　to　hold　nothing。　She　tossed　her　sweat…damp　hair　out　of　her　eyes；　her　lips　split　in　a　sharklike　grin。
　　Let　me　go！　a　voice　cried　out　in　her　mind。　But　at　the　same　time　she　could　feel　the　owner　of　the　voice　responding　in　spite　of　itself。
　　〃No　way；　sugar。　You　wanted　it　。。。　now　you　goan　get　it。〃　She　thrust　upward；　holding　on；　concentrating　fiercely　on　the　freezing　cold　inside　her。　〃I'm　goan　melt　that　icicle；　sugar；　and　when　it's　gone；　what　you　goan　do　then？〃　Her　lips　rose　and　fell；　rose　and　fell。　Sh