stephen king - mist-第23部分

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by　now；　twenty　feet　is　only　ten　or　twelve　paces；　so
　〃Oh　my　God！〃　Miller　screamed。　〃Oh　dear　sweet　God；　look　at　this！〃
　Miller　had　gotten　there；　all　right。
　Buddy　Eagleton　was　ahead　of　Mrs。　Reppler　and　he　turned　to　run；　his　eyes　wide　and　stary。　She　batted　him　lightly　in　the　chest　with　her　tennis　racket。　〃Where　do　you　thing　you're　going？〃　she　asked　in　her　tough；　slightly　raspy　voice；　and　that　was　all　the　panic　there　was。
　The　rest　of　us　drew　up　to　Miller。　I　took　one　glance　back　over　my　shoulder　and　saw　that　the　Federal　had　been　swallowed　up　by　the　mist。　The　red　cinderblock　wall　faded　to　a　thin　wash　pink　and　then　disappeared　utterly；　probably　five　feet　on　the　Bridgton　Pharmacy　side　of　the　OUT　door。　I　felt　more　isolated；　more　simply　alone；　than　ever　in　my　life。　It　was　as　if　I　had　lost　the　womb。
　The　pharmacy　had　been　the　scene　of　a　slaughter。
　Miller　and　I；　of　course；　were　very　close　to　it…almost　on　top　of　it。　All　the　things　in　the　mist　operated　primarily　by　sense　of　smell。　It　stood　to　reason。　Sight　would　have　been　almost　pletely　useless　to　them。　Hearing　a　little　better；　but　as　I've　said；　the　mist　had　a　way　of　screwing　Up　the　acoustics；　making　things　that　were　close　sound　distant　and　…　sometimes　…　things　that　were　far　away　sound　close。　The　things　in　the　mist　followed　their　truest　sense。　They　followed　their　noses。
　Those　of　us　in　the　market　had　been　saved　by　the　power　outage　as　much　as　by　anything　else。　The　electric…eye　doors　wouldn't　operate。　In　a　sense；　the　market　had　been　scaled　up　when　the　mist　came。　But　the　pharmacy　doors　。。。　they　had　been　chocked　open。　The　power　failure　had　killed　their　air　conditioning　and　they　had　opened　the　doors　to　let　in　the　breeze。　Only　something　else　had　e　in　as　well。　
　A　man　in　a　maroon　T…shirt　lay　facedown　in　the　doorway。　Or　at　first　I　thought　his　T…shirt　was　maroon；　then　I　saw　a　few　white　patches　at　the　bottom　and　understood　that　once　it　had　been　all　white。　The　maroon　was　dried　blood。　And　there　was　something　else　wrong　with　him。　I　puzzled　it　over　in　my　mind。　Even　when　Buddy　Eagleton　turned　around　and　was　noisily　sick；　it　didn't　e　immediately。　I　guess　when　something　that　。。。　that　final　happens　to　someone；　your　mind　rejects　it　at　first…unless　maybe　you're　in　a　war。
　His　head　was　gone；　that's　what　it　was。　His　legs　were　splayed　out　inside　the　pharmacy　doors；　and　his　head　should　have　been　hanging　over　the　low　step。　But　his　head　just　wasn't。
　Jim　Grondin　had　had　enough。　He　turned　away；　his　hands　over　his　mouth；　his　bloodshot　eyes　gazing　madly　into　mine。　Then　he　stumbled　…staggered　back　toward　the　market。
　The　others　took　no　notice。　Miller　had　stepped　inside。　Mike　Hatlen　followed。　Mrs。　Reppler　stationed　herself　at　one　side　of　the　double　doors　with　her　tennis　racket。　Ollie　stood　on　the　other　side　with　Amanda's　gun　drawn　and　pointing　at　the　pavement。
　He　said　quietly；　〃I　seem　to　be　running　out　of　hope；　David。〃
　Buddy　Eagleton　was　leaning　weakly　against　the　pay…phone　stall　like　someone　who　has　just　gotten　bad　news　from　home。　His　broad　shoulders　shook　with　the　force　of　his　sobs。
　〃Don't　count　us　out　yet；〃　I　said　to　Ollie。　I　stepped　up　to　the　door。　I　didn't　want　to　go　inside；　but　I　had　promised　my　son　a　ic　book。
　The　Bridgton　Pharmacy　was　a　crazy　shambles。　Paperbacks　and　magazines　were　everywhere。　There　was　a　Spiderman　ic　and　an　Incredible　Hulk　almost　at　my　feet；　and　without　thinking；　I　picked　them　up　and　jammed　them　into　my　back　pocket　for　Billy。　Bottles　and　boxes　lay　in　the　aisles。　A　hand　hung　over　one　of　the　racks。
　Unreality　washed　over　me。　The　wreckage　。。。　the　carnage…that　was　bad　enough。　But　the　place　also　looked　like　it　had　been　the　scene　of　some　crazy　party。　It　was　hung　and　festooned　with　what　I　at　first　took　to　be　streamers。　But　they　weren't　broad　and　flat；　they　were　more　like　very　thick　strings　or　very　thin　cables。　It　struck　me　that　they　were　almost　the　same　bright　white　as　the　mist　itself；　and　a　cold　chill　sketched　its　way　up　my　back　like　frost。　Not　crepe。
　What？　Magazines　and　books　hung　dangling　in　the　air　from　some　of　them。
　Mike　Hatlen　was　prodding　a　strange　black　thing　with　one　foot。　it　was　long　and　bristly。　〃What　the　fuck　is　this？〃　he　asked　no　one　in　particular。
　And　suddenly　I　knew。　I　knew　what　had　killed　all　those　unlucky　enough　to　be　in　the　pharmacy　when　the　mist　came。　The　people　who　had　been　unlucky　enough　to　get　smelled　out。　Out…
　〃Out；〃　I　said。　My　throat　was　pletely　dry；　and　the　word　came　out　like　a　lint…covered　bullet。　〃Get　out　of　here。〃
　Ollie　looked　at　me。　〃David　…〃
　〃They're　spiderwebs；〃　I　said。　And　then　two　screams　came　out　of　the　mist。　The　first　of　fear；　maybe。　The　second　of　pain。　It　was　Jim。　If　there　were　dues　to　be　paid；　he　was　paying　them。
　〃Get　out！　〃　I　shouted　at　Mike　and　Dan　Miller。
　Then　something　looped　out　of　the　mist。　It　was　impossible　to　see　it　against　that　white　background；　but　I　could　hear　it。　It　sounded　like　a　bullwhip　that　had　been　halfheartedly　flicked。　And　I　could　see　it　when　it　twisted　around　the　thigh　of　Buddy　Eagleton's　jeans。
　He　screamed　and　grabbed　for　the　first　thing　handy；　which　happened　to　be　the　telephone。　The　handset　flew　the　length　of　its　cord　and　then　swung　back　and　forth。　〃Oh　Jesus　that　HURTS！〃　Buddy　screamed。
　Ollie　grabbed　for　him；　and　I　saw　what　was　happening。　At　the　same　instant　I　understood　why　the　head　of　the　man　in　the　doorway　was　missing。　The　thin　white　cable　that　had　twisted　around　Buddy's　leg　like　a　silk　rope　was　sinking　into　his　flesh。　That　leg　of　his　jeans　had　been　neatly　cut　off　and　was　sliding　down　his　leg。　A　neat；　circular　incision　in　his　flesh　was　brimming　blood　as　the　cable　went　deeper。
　Ollie　pulled　him　hard。　There　was　a　thin　snapping　sound　and　Buddy　was　free。　His　lips　had　gone　blue　with　shock。
　Mike　and　Dan　were　ing；　but　too　slowly。　Then　Dan　ran　into　several　hanging　threads　and　got　stuck；　exactly　like　a　bug　on　flypaper。　He　freed　himself　with　a　tremendous　jerk；　leaving　a　flap　of　his　shirt　hanging　from　the　webbing。
　Suddenly　the　air　was　full　of　those　languorous　bullwhip　cracks；　and　the　thin　white　cables　were　drifting　down　all　around　us。　They　were　coated　with　the　same　corrosive　substance。　I　dodged　two　of　them；　more　by　luck　than　by　skill。　One　landed　at　my　feet　and　I　could　hear　a　faint　hiss　of　bubbling　hottop。　Another　floated　out　of　the　air　and　Mrs。　Reppler　calmly　swung　her　tennis　racket　at　it。　The　thread　stuck　fast；　and　I　heard　a　high…pitched　twing！　twing！　twing！　as　the　corrosive　ate　through　the　racket's　strings　and　snapped　them。　It　sounded　like　someone　rapidly　plucking　the　strings　of　a　violin。　A　moment　later　a　thread　wrapped　around　the　upper　handle　of　the　racket　and　it　was　jerked　into　the　mist。
　〃Get　back！　〃　Ollie　screamed。
　We　got　moving。　Ollie　had　an　arm　around　Buddy。　Dan　Miller　and　Mike　Hatlen　were　on　each　side　of　Mrs。　Reppler。　The　white　strands　of　web　continued　to　drift　out　of　the　fog；　impossible　to　see　unless　your　eye　could　pick　them　out　against　the　red　cinderblock　background。
　One　of　them　wrapped　around　Mike　Hatlen's　left　arm。　Another　whipped　around　his　neck　in　a　series　of　quick　winding…up　snaps。　His　jugular　went　in　a　jetting；　jumping　explosion　and　he　was　dragged　away；　head　lolling。　One　of　his　Bass　loafers　fell　off　and　lay　there　on　its　side。
　Buddy　suddenly　slumped　forward；　almost　dragging　Ollie　to　his　knees。　〃He's　passed　out；　David。　Help　me。〃
　I　grabbed　Buddy　around　the　waist　and　we…　pulled　him　along　in　a　clumsy；　stumbling　fashion。　Even　in　unconsciousness；　Buddy　kept　his　grip　on　his　steel　pinchbar。　The　leg　that　the　strand　of　web　had　wrapped　around　hung　away　from　his　body　at　a　terrible　angle。
　Mrs。　Reppler　had　turned　around。　〃Ware！〃　she　screamed　in　her　rusty　voice。　〃Ware　behind　you！　〃
　As　I　started　to　turn；　one　of　the　web…strands　floated　down　on　top　of　Dan　Miller's　head。　His　hands　beat　at　it；　tore　at　it。
　One　of　the　spiders　had　e　out　of　the　mist　from　behind　us。　it　was　the　size　of　a　big　dog。　It　was　black　with　yellow　piping。　Racing　stripes；　I　thought　crazily。　Its　eyes　were　reddish…purple；　like　pomegranates。　it　strutted　busily　toward　us　on　what　might　have　been　as　many　as　twelve　or　fourteen　many…jointed　legs…it　was　no　ordinary　earthly　spider　blown　up　to　horror…movie　size；　it　was　something　totally　different；　perhaps　not　really　a　spider　at　all。　Seeing　it_　Mike　Hatlen　would　have　understood　what　that　bristly　black　thing　he　had　been　prodding　at　in　the　pharmacy　really　was。
　It　closed　in　on　us；　spinning　its　webbing　from　an　oval…shaped　orifice　on　its　upper　belly。　The　strands　floated　out　toward　us　in　what　was　nearly　a　fan　shape。　Looking　at　this　nightmare；　so　like　the　death…black　spiders　brooding　over　their　dead　flies　and　bugs　in　the　shadows　of　our　boathouse；　I　felt　my　mind　trying　to　tear　pletely　loose　from　its　moorings。　I　believe　now　that　it　was　only　the　thought　of　Billy　that　allowed　me　to　keep　any　semblance　of　sanity。　I　was　making　some　sound。　Laughing。　Crying。　Screaming。　I　don't　know。
　But　Ollie　Weeks　was　like　a　rock。　He　raised　Amanda's　pistol　as　calmly　as　a　man　on　a　target　range　and　emptied　it　in　spaced　shots　into　the　creature　at　point…blank　range。　Whatever　hell　it　came　from；　it　wasn't　invulnerable。　A　black　ichor　splattered　from　its　body　and　it　made　a　terrible　mewling　sound；　so　low　it　was　more　felt　than　heard；　like　a　bass　note　from　a　synthesizer。　Then　it　scuttered　back　into　the　mist　and　was　gone。　It　might　have　been　a　phantasm　from　a　horrible　drug…dream　。。。　except　for　the　puddles　of　sticky　black　stuff　it　had　left　behind。
　There　was　a　clang　as　Buddy　finally　dropped　his　steel　pinchbar。
　〃He's　dead；〃　Ollie　said。　〃Let　him　go；　David。　The　fucking　thing　got　his　femoral　artery；　he's　dead。　Let's　get　the　Christ　out　of　here。〃　His　face　was　once　more　running　with　sweat　and　his　eyes　bulged　from　his　big　round　face。　One　of　the　web…strands　floated　easily　down　on　the　back　of　his　hand　and　Ollie　swung　his　arm；　snapping　it。　The　strand　left　a　bloody　weal。
　Mrs。　Reppler　screamed　〃Ware！〃　again；　and　we　turned　toward　her。　Another　of　them　had　e　out　of　the　mist　and　had　wrapped　its　legs　around　Dan　Miller　in　a　mad　lover's　embrace。　He　was　striking　at　it　with　his　fists。　As　I　bent　and　picked　up　Buddy's　pinchbar；　the　spider　began　to　wrap　Dan　in　its　deadly　thread；　and　his　struggles　became　a　grisly；　jittering　death　dance。
　Mrs。　Reppler　walked　toward　the　spider　with　a　can　of　Black　Flag　insect　repellent　held　out