sk.misery-第9部分

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il；〃　he　said。
　Again　he　expected　rage　and　got　the　indulgent　laugh；　with　its　undertones　of　knowing　sadness。
　〃Oh　yes！　Yes！　That's　what　a　child　thinks　when　mommy　es　into　the　kitchen　and　sees　him　playing　with　the　cleaning　fluid　from　under　the　sink。　He　doesn't　say　it　that　way；　of　course；　because　he　doesn't　have　your　education。　He　just　says；　〃Mommy；　you're　mean！〃〃　Her　hand　brushed　his　hair　away　from　his　hot　brow。　The　fingers　trailed　down　his　cheek；　across　the　side　of　his　neck；　and　then　squeezed　his　shoulder　briefly；　with　passion；　before　drawing　away。
　〃The　mother　feels　badly　when　her　child　says　she's　mean　or　if　he　cries　for　what's　been　taken　away；　as　you　are　crying　now。　But　she　knows　she's　right；　and　so　she　does　her　duty。　As　I　am　doing　mine。〃　Three　quick　dull　thumps　as　Annie　dropped　her　knuckles　on　the　manuscript　…　190；000　words　and　five　lives　that　a　well　and　pain…free　Paul　Sheldon　had　cared　deeply　about；　190；000　words　and　five　lives　that　he　was　finding　more　dispensable　as　each　moment　passed。
　The　pills。　The　pills。　He　had　to　have　the　goddam　pills。　The　lives　were　shadows。　The　pills　were　not。　They　were　real。
　〃Paul？〃
　〃No！〃　he　sobbed。
　The　faint　rattle　of　the　capsules　in　their　blisters　…　silence　then　the　woody　shuffle　of　the　matches　in　their　box。
　〃Paul？〃
　〃No！〃
　〃I'm　waiting；　Paul。〃　Oh　why　in　Christ's　name　are　you　doing　this　asshole　Horatio…at…the…bridge　act　and　who　in　Christ's　name　are　you　trying　to　impress？　Do　you　think　this　is　a　movie　or　a　TV　show　and　you　are　getting　graded　by　some　audience　on　your　bravery？　You　can　do　what　she　wants　or　you　can　hold　out。　If　you　hold　out　you'll　die　and　then　she'll　burn　the　manuscript　anyway。　So　what　are　you　going　to　do；　lie　here　and　suffer　for　a　book　that　would　sell　half　as　many　copies　as　the　least　successful　Misery　book　you　ever　wrote；　and　which　Peter　Prescott　would　shit　upon　in　his　finest　genteel　disparaging　manner　when　he　reviewed　it　for　that　great　literary　oracle；　Newsweek？　e　on；　e　on；　wise　up！　Even　Galileo　recanted　when　he　saw　they　really　meant　to　go　through　with　it！
　〃Paul？　I'm　waiting。　I　can　wait　all　day。　Although　I　rather　suspect　that　you　may　go　into　a　a　before　too　long；　I　believe　you　are　in　a　near…atose　state　now；　and　I　have　had　a　lot　of　。　。　。　〃　Her　voice　droned　away。
　Yes！　Give　me　the　matches！　Give　me　a　blowtorch！　Give　me　a　Baby　Huey　and　a　load　of　napalm！　I'll　drop　a　tactical　nuke　on　it　if　that's　what　you　want；　you　fucking　beldame！
　So　spoke　the　opportunist；　the　survivor。　Yet　another　part；　failing　now；　near…atose　itself；　went　wailing　off　into　the　darkness：　A　hundred　and　ninety　thousand　words！　Five　lives！　Two　years〃　work！　And　what　was　the　real　bottom　line：　The　truth！　What　you　knew　about　THE　FUCKING　TRUTH！
　There　was　the　creak　of　bedsprings　as　she　stood　up。
　〃Well！　You　are　a　very　stubborn　little　boy；　I　must　say；　and　I　can't　sit　by　your　bed　all　night；　as　much　as　I　might　like　to！　After　all；　I've　been　driving　for　nearly　an　hour；　hurrying　to　get　back　here。　I'll　drop　by　in　a　bit　and　see　if　you've　changed　y　…　〃
　〃You　burn　it；　then！〃　he　yelled　at　her。
　She　turned　and　looked　at　him。　〃No；〃　she　said；　〃I　cannot　do　that；　as　much　as　I　would　like　to　and　spare　you　the　agony　you　feel。〃
　〃Why　not？〃
　〃Because；〃　she　said　primly；　〃you　must　do　it　of　your　own　free　will。〃　He　began　to　laugh　then；　and　her　face　darkened　for　the　first　time　since　she　had　e　back；　and　she　left　the　room　with　the　manuscript　under　her　arm。
　
　
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　When　she　came　back　an　hour　later　he　took　the　matches。
　She　laid　the　title　page　on　the　grill。　He　tried　to　light　one　of　the　Blue　Tips　and　couldn't　because　it　kept　missing　the　rough　strip　or　falling　out　of　his　hand。
　So　Annie　took　the　box　and　lit　the　match　and　put　the　lit　match　in　his　hand　and　he　touched　it　to　the　er　of　the　paper　and　then　let　the　match　fall　into　the　pot　and　watched；　fascinated；　as　the　flame　tasted；　then　gulped。　She　had　a　barbecue　fork　with　her　this　time；　and　when　the　page　began　to　curl　up；　she　poked　it　through　the　gaps　in　the　grill。
　〃This　is　going　to　take　forever；〃　he　said。　〃I　can't　…　〃
　〃No；　we'll　make　quick　work　of　it；〃　she　said。　〃But　you　must　bum　a　few　of　the　single　pages；　Paul　…　as　a　symbol　of　your　understanding。〃　She　now　laid　the　first　page　of　Fast　Cars　on　the　grill；　words　he　remembered　writing　some　twenty…four　months　ago；　in　the　New　York　townhouse：　〃'I　don't　have　no　wheels；〃　Tony　Bonasaro　said；　walking　up　to　the　girt　ing　down　the　steps；　〃and　I　am　a　slow　learner；　but　I　am　a　fast　driver。〃〃　Oh　it　brought　that　day　back　like　the　right　Golden　Oldie　on　the　radio。　He　remembered　walking　around　the　apartment　from　room　to　room；　big　with　book；　more　than　big；　gravid；　and　here　were　the　labor　pains。　He　remembered　finding　one　of　Joan's　bras　under　a　sofa　cushion　earlier　in　the　day；　and　she　had　been　gone　a　full　three　months；　showed　you　what　kind　of　a　job　the　cleaning　service　did；　he　remembered　hearing　New　York　traffic；　and；　faintly；　the　monotonous　tolling　of　a　church　bell　calling　the　faithful　to　mass。
　He　remembered　sitting　down。
　As　always；　the　blessed　relief　of　starting；　a　feeling　that　was　like　falling　into　a　hole　filled　with　bright　light。
　As　always；　the　glum　knowledge　that　he　would　not　write　as　well　as　he　wanted　to　write。
　As　always；　the　terror　of　not　being　able　to　finish；　of　accelerating　into　a　blank　wall。
　As　always；　the　marvellous　joyful　nervy　feeling　of　journey　begun。
　He　looked　at　Annie　Wilkes　and　said；　clearly　but　not　loud：　〃Annie；　please　don't　make　me　do　this。〃　She　held　the　matches　immovably　before　him　and　said：　〃You　can　do　as　you　choose。〃　So　he　burned　his　book。
　
　
　19
　
　She　made　him　bum　the　first　page；　the　last　page；　and　nine　pairs　of　pages　from　various　points　in　the　manuscript　because　nine；　she　said；　was　a　number　of　power；　and　nine　doubled　was　lucky。　He　saw　that　she　had　used　a　magic　marker　to　black　out　the　profanities；　at　least　as　far　as　she　had　read。
　〃Now；〃　she　said；　when　the　ninth　pair　was　burned。　〃You've　been　a　good　boy　and　a　real　sport　and　I　know　this　hurts　you　almost　as　badly　as　your　legs　do　and　I　won't　draw　it　out　any　longer。〃　She　removed　the　grill　and　set　the　rest　of　the　manuscript　into　the　pot；　crunching　down　the　crispy　black　curls　of　the　pages　he　had　already　burned。　The　room　stank　of　matches　and　burned　paper。　Smells　like　the　devil's　cloakroom；　he　though　deliriously；　and　if　there　had　been　anything　in　the　wrinkle。　walnut…shell　that　had　once　been　his　stomach；　he　supposed　he　would　have　vomited　it　up。
　She　lit　another　match　and　put　it　in　his　hand。　Somehow　he　was　able　to　lean　over　and　drop　the　match　into　the　pot。　I　didn't　matter　anymore。　It　didn't　matter。
　She　was　nudging　him。
　Wearily；　he　opened　his　eyes。
　〃It　went　out。〃　She　scratched　another　match　and　put　it　in　his　hand。
　So　he　somehow　managed　to　lean　over　again；　awakening　rusty　handsaws　in　his　legs　as　he　did　so；　and　touched　the　match　to　the　corner　of　the　pile　of　manuscript。　This　time　the　flame　spread　instead　of　shrinking　and　dying　around　the　stick。
　He　leaned　back；　eyes　shut；　listening　to　the　crackling　sound；　feeling　the　dull；　baking　heat。
　〃Goodness！〃　she　cried；　alarmed。
　He　opened　his　eyes　and　saw　that　charred　bits　of　paper　were　wafting　up　from　the　barbecue　on　the　heated　air。
　Annie　lumbered　from　the　room。　He　heard　water　from　the　tub　taps　thud　into　the　floorpail。　He　idly　watched　a　dark　piece　of　manuscript　float　across　the　room　and　land　on　or　of　the　gauzy　curtains。　There　was　a　brief　spark　…　he　had　time　to　wonder　if　perhaps　the　room　was　going　to　catch　on　fire　…　that　winked　once　and　then　went　out；　leaving　a　tiny　hole　like　a　cigarette　burn。　Ash　sifted　down　on　the　bed。　Some　landed　on　his　arms。　He　didn't　really　care；　one　way　or　the　other。
　Annie　came　back；　eyes　trying　to　dart　everywhere　at　once　trying　to　trace　the　course　of　each　carbonized　page　as　it　rose　and　seesawed。　Flames　flipped　and　flickered　over　the　edge　the　pot。
　〃Goodness！〃　she　said　again；　holding　the　bucket　of　water　and　looking　around；　trying　to　decide　where　to　throw　it　or　it　needed　to　be　thrown　at　all。　Her　lips　were　trembling　and　wet　with　spit。　As　Paul　watched；　her　tongue　darted　out　and　slicked　them　afresh。　〃Goodness！　Goodness！〃　It　seemed　to　be　all　she　could　say。
　Even　caught　in　the　squeezing　vise　of　his　pain；　Paul　felt　an　instant　of　intense　pleasure　…　this　was　what　Annie　Wilkes　looked　like　when　she　was　frightened。　It　was　a　look　he　could　e　to　love。
　Another　page　wafted　up；　this　one　still　running　with　little　tendrils　of　low　blue　fire；　and　that　decided　her。　With　another　〃Goodness！〃　she　carefully　poured　the　bucket　of　water　into　the　barbecue　pot。　There　was　a　monstrous　hissing　and　a　plume　of　steam。　The　smell　was　wet　and　awful；　charred　and　yet　somehow　creamy。
　When　she　left　he　managed　to　get　up　on　his　elbow　one　final　time。　He　looked　into　the　barbecue　pot　and　saw　something　that　looked　like　a　charred　lump　of　log　floating　in　a　brackish　pond。
　After　awhile；　Annie　Wilkes　came　back。
　Incredibly；　she　was　humming。
　She　sat　him　up　and　pushed　capsules　into　his　mouth。
　He　swallowed　them　and　lay　back；　thinking：　I'm　going　to　kill　her。
　
　
　20
　
　〃Eat；〃　she　said　from　far　away；　and　he　felt　stinging　pain。　He　opened　his　eyes　and　saw　her　sitting　beside　him　…　for　the　first　time　he　was　actually　on　a　level　with　her；　facing　her。　He　realized　with　bleary；　distant　surprise　that　for　the　first　time　in　untold　eons　he　was　sitting；　too　。　。　。　actually　sitting　up。
　Who　gives　a　shit？　he　thought；　and　let　his　eyes　slip　shut　again。　The　tide　was　in。　The　pilings　were　covered。　The　tide　had　finally　e　in　and　the　next　time　it　went　out　it　might　go　out　forever　and　so　he　was　going　to　ride　the　waves　while　there　were　waves　left　to　ride；　he　could　think　about　sitting　up　later　。　。　。
　〃Eat！〃　she　said　again；　and　this　was　followed　by　a　recurrence　of　pain。　It　buzzed　against　the　left　side　of　his　head；　making　him　whine　and　try　to　pull　away。
　〃Eat；　Paul！　You've　got　to　e　out　of　it　enough　to　eat　or　。　。　。　〃　Zzzzzing！　His　earlobe。　She　was　pinching　it。
　〃Kay；〃　he　muttered。　〃Kay！　Don't　yank　it　off；　for　God's　sake。〃　He　forced　his　eyes　open；　Each　lid　felt　as　if　it　had　a　cement　block　dangling　from　it。　Immediately　the　spoon　was　in　his　mouth；　dumping　hot　soup　down　his　throat。　He　swallowed　to　keep　from　drowning。
　Suddenly；　out　of　nowhere　…　the　most　amazing　eback　this　announcer　has　ever　seen；　ladies　and　gentlemen！　…　I