th.red dragon-第37部分

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ng　in　her　locked　leg。
　Over　and　over　Dolarhyde　watches　the　frames　of　the　woman。　Foot　on　the　base；　pelvis　tilts；　thigh　muscle　tightens　under　the　cutoff　jeans。
　He　freezes　the　last　frame。　The　woman　and　her　children。　They　are　dirty　and　tired。　They　hug；　and　a　dog　wags　among　their　legs。
　A　terrific　crash　of　thunder　clinks　the　cut　crystal　in　Grandmother's　tall　cabinet。　Dolarbyde　reaches　for　a　pear。
　The　second　film　is　in　several　segments。　The　title；　The　New　House；　is　spelled　out　in　pennies　on　a　shirt　cardboard　above　a　broken　piggy　bank。　It　opens　with　Father　pulling　up　the　〃For　Sale〃　sign　in　the　yard。　He　holds　it　up　and　faces　the　camera　with　an　embarrassed　grin。　His　pockets　are　turned　out。
　An　unsteady　long　shot　of　Mother　and　three　children　on　the　front　steps。　It　is　a　handsome　house。　A　cut　to　the　swimming　pool。　A　child；　sleek…headed　and　small；　pads　around　to　the　diving　board；　leaving　wet　footprints　on　the　tile。　Heads　bob　in　the　water。　A　small　dog　paddles　toward　a　daughter；　his　ears　back；　chin　high；　and　the　whites　of　his　eyes　showing。
　Mother　in　the　water　holds　to　the　ladder　and　looks　up　at　the　camera。　Her　curly　black　hair　has　the　gloss　of　pelt；　her　bosom　swelling　shining　wet　above　her　suit；　her　legs　wavy　below　the　surface；　scissoring。
　Night。　A　badly　exposed　shot　across　the　pool　to　the　lighted　hous；　the　lights　reflected　in　the　water。
　Indoors　and　family　fun。　Boxes　everywhere；　and　packing　materials。　An　old　trunk；　not　yet　stored　in　the　attic。
　A　small　daughter　is　trying　on　Grandmother's　clothes。　She　has　on　a　big　garden…party　hat。　Father　is　on　the　sofa。　He　looks　a　little　drunk。　Now　Father　must　have　the　camera。　It　is　not　quite　level。　Mother　is　at　the　mirror　in　the　hat。
　The　children　jostle　around　her；　the　boys　laughing　and　plucking　at　the　old　finery。　The　girl　watches　her　mother　coolly；　appraising　herself　in　time　to　e。
　A　close…up。　Mother　turns　and　strikes　a　pose　for　the　camera　with　an　arch　smile；　her　hand　at　the　back　of　her　neck。　She　is　quite　lovely。　There　is　a　cameo　at　her　throat。
　Dolarhyde　freezes　the　frame。　He　backs　up　the　film。　Again　and　again　she　turns　from　the　mirror　and　smiles。
　Absently　Dolarhyde　picks　up　the　film　of　the　softball　game　and　drops　it　in　the　wastebasket。
　He　takes　the　reel　from　the　projector　and　looks　at　the　Gateway　label　on　the　box：　Bob　Sherman；　Star　Route　7；　Box　603；　Tulsa；　Okla。
　An　easy　drive；　too。
　Dolarhyde　holds　the　film　in　his　palm　and　covers　it　with　his　other　hand　as　though　it　were　a　small　living　thing　that　might　struggle　to　escape。　It　seems　to　jump　against　his　palm　like　a　cricket。
　He　remembers　the　jerkiness；　the　haste　at　the　Leeds　house　when　the　lights　came　on。　He　had　to　deal　with　Mr。　Leeds　before　turning　on　his　movie　lights。
　This　time　he　wants　a　smoother　progression。　It　would　be　wonderful　to　crawl　in　between　the　sleepers　with　the　camera　going　and　snuggle　up　a　little　while。　Then　he　could　strike　in　the　dark　and　sit　up　between　them　happily　getting　wet。
　He　can　do　that　with　infrared　film；　and　he　knows　where　to　get　some。
　The　projector　is　still　on。　Dolarhyde　sits　holding　the　film　between　his　hands　while　on　the　bright　blank　screen　other　images　move　for　him　to　the　long　sigh　of　the　wind。
　There　is　no　sense　of　vengeance　in　him；　only　Love　and　thoughts　of　the　Glory　to　e；　hearts　being　faint　and　fast；　like　footsteps　fleeing　into　silence。
　Him　rampant。　Him　rampant；　filled　with　Love；　the　Shermans　opening　to　him。
　The　past　does　not　occur　to　him　at　all；　only　the　Glory　to　e。　He　does　not　think　of　his　mother's　house。　In　fact；　his　conscious　memones　of　that　time　are　remarkably　few　and　indistinct。
　Sometime　in　his　twenties　Dolarhyde's　memories　of　his　mother's　house　sank　out　of　sight；　leaving　a　slick　on　the　surface　of　his　mind。
　He　knew　that　he　had　lived　there　only　a　month。　He　did　not　recall　that　he　was　sent　away　at　the　age　of　nine　for　hanging　Victoria's　cat。
　One　of　the　few　images　he　retained　was　the　house　itself；　lighted；　viewed　from　the　street　in　winter　twilight　as　he　passed　it　going　from　Potter　Gerard　Elementary　School　to　the　house　where　he　was　boarded　a　mile　away。
　He　could　remember　the　smell　of　the　Vogt　library；　like　a　piano　just　opened；　when　his　mother　received　him　there　to　give　him　holiday　things。　He　did　not　remember　the　faces　at　the　upstairs　windows　as　he　walked　away；　down　the　frozen　sidewalk；　the　practical　gifts　burning　hateful　under　his　arm；　hurrying　home　to　a　place　inside　his　head　that　was　quite　different　from　St。　Louis。
　At　the　age　of　eleven　his　fantasy　life　was　active　and　intense　and　when　the　pressure　of　his　Love　grew　too　great；　he　relieved　it。　He　preyed　on　pets；　carefully；　with　a　cool　eye　to　consequence。　They　were　so　tame　that　it　was　easy。　The　authorities　never　linked　him　with　the　sad　little　bloodstains　soaked　into　the　dirt　floors　of　garages。
　At　forty…two　he　did　not　remember　that。　Nor　did　he　ever　think　about　the　people　in　his　mother's　house　…　his　mother；　stepsisters；　or　stepbrother。
　Sometimes　he　saw　them　in　his　sleep；　in　the　brilliant　fragments　of　a　fever　dream；　altered　and　tall；　faces　and　bodies　in　bright　parrot　colors；　they　poised　over　him　in　a　mantis　stance。
　When　he　chose　to　reflect；　which　was　seldom；　he　had　many　satisfactory　memories。　They　were　of　his　military　service。
　Caught　at　seventeen　entering　the　window　of　a　woman's　house　for　a　purpose　never　established；　he　was　given　the　choice　of　enlisting　in　the　Army　or　facing　criminal　charges。　He　took　the　Army。
　After　basic　training　he　was　sent　to　specialist　school　in　darkroom　operation　and　shipped　to　San　Antonio；　where　he　worked　on　medical…corps　training　films　at　Brooke　Army　Hospital。
　Surgeons　at　Brooke　took　an　interest　in　him　and　decided　to　improve　his　face。
　They　performed　a　Z…plasty　on　his　nose；　using　ear　cartilage　to　lengthen　the　columella；　and　repaired　his　lip　with　an　interesting　Abbé　flap　procedure　that　drew　an　audience　of　doctors　to　the　operating　theater。
　The　surgeons　were　proud　of　the　result。　Dolarhyde　declined　the　mirror　and　looked　out　the　window。
　Records　at　the　film　library　show　Dolarhyde　checked　out　many　films；　mainly　on　trauma；　and　kept　them　overnight。
　He　reenlisted　in　1958　and　in　his　second　hitch　he　found　Hong　Kong。　Stationed　at　Seoul；　Korea；　developing　film　from　the　tiny　spotter　planes　the　Army　floated　over　the　thirty…eighth　parallel　in　the　late　1950's；　he　was　able　to　go　to　Hong　Kong　twice　on　leave。　Hong　Kong　and　Kowloon　could　satisfy　any　appetite　in　1959。
　Grandmother　was　released　from　the　sanatorium　in　1961　in　a　vague　Thorazine　peace。　Dolarhyde　asked　for　and　received　a　hardship　discharge　two　months　before　his　scheduled　separation　date　and　went　home　to　take　care　of　her。
　It　was　a　curiously　peaceful　time　for　him　as　well。　With　his　new　job　at　Gateway；　Dolarhyde　could　hire　a　woman　to　stay　with　Grandmother　in　the　daytime。　At　night　they　sat　in　the　parlor　together；　not　speaking。　The　tick　of　the　old　clock　and　its　chimes　were　all　that　broke　the　silence。
　He　saw　his　mother　once；　at　Grandmother's　funeral　in　1970。　He　looked　through　her；　past　her；　with　his　yellow　eyes　so　startlingly　like　her　own。　She　might　have　been　a　stranger。
　His　appearance　surprised　his　mother。　He　was　deep…chested　and　sleek；　with　her　fine　coloring　and　a　neat　mustache　which　she　suspected　was　hair　transplanted　from　his　head。
　She　called　him　once　in　the　next　week　and　heard　the　receiver　slowly　replaced。
　
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　For　nine　years　after　Grandmother's　death　Dolarhyde　was　untroubled　and　he　troubled　no　one。　His　forehead　was　as　smooth　as　a　seed。　He　knew　that　he　was　waiting。　For　what；　he　didn't　know。
　One　small　event；　which　occurs　to　everyone；　told　the　seed　in　his　skull　it　was　Time：　standing　by　a　north　window；　examining　some　film；　he　noticed　aging　in　his　hands。　It　was　as　though　his　hands；　holding　the　film；　had　suddenly　appeared　before　him　and　he　saw　in　that　good　north　light　that　the　skin　had　slackened　over　the　bones　and　tendons　and　his　hands　were　creased　in　diamonds　as　small　as　lizard　scales。
　As　he　turned　them　in　the　light；　an　intense　odor　of　cabbage　and　stewed　tomatoes　washed　over　him。　He　shivered　though　the　room　was　warm。　That　evening　he　worked　out　harder　than　usual。
　A　full…length　mirror　was　mounted　on　the　wall　of　Dolarhyde's　attic　gym　beside　his　barbells　and　weight　bench。　It　was　the　only　mirror　hanging　in　his　house；　and　he　could　admire　his　body　in　it　fortably　because　he　always　worked　out　in　a　mask。
　He　examined　himself　carefully　while　his　muscles　were　pumped　up。
　At　forty；　he　could　have　peted　successfully　in　regional　body…building　petition。　He　was　not　satisfied。
　Within　the　week　he　came　upon　the　Blake　painting。　It　seized　him　instantly。
　He　saw　it　in　a　large；　full…color　photograph　in　Time　magazine　illustrating　a　report　on　the　Blake　retrospective　at　the　Tate　Museum　in　London。　The　Brooklyn　Museum　had　sent　The　Great　Red　Dragon　and　the　Woman　Clothed　with　the　Sun　to　London　for　the　show。
　Time's　critic　said：　〃Few　demonic　images　in　Western　art　radiate　such　a　nightmarish　charge　of　sexual　energy　。　。　。〃　Dolarhyde　didn't　have　to　read　the　text　to　find　that　out。
　He　carried　the　picture　with　him　for　days；　photographed　and　enlarged　it　in　the　darkroom　late　at　night。　He　was　agitated　much　of　the　time。　He　posted　the　painting　beside　his　mirror　in　the　weight　room　and　stared　at　it　while　he　pumped。　He　could　sleep　only　when　he　had　worked　out　to　exhaustion　and　watched　his　medical　films　to　aid　him　in　sexual　relief。
　He　had　known　since　the　age　of　nine　that　essentially　he　was　alone　and　that　he　would　always　be　alone；　a　conclusion　more　mon　to　the　forties。
　Now；　in　his　forties；　he　was　seized　by　a　fantasy　life　with　the　brilliance　and　freshness　and　immediacy　of　childhood。　It　took　him　a　step　beyond　Alone。
　At　a　time　when　other　men　first　see　and　fear　their　isolation；　Dolarhyde's　became　understandable　to　him：　he　was　alone　because　he　was　Unique。　With　the　fervor　of　conversion　he　saw　that　if　he　worked　at　it；　if　he　followed　the　true　urges　he　had　kept　down　for　so　long…cultivated　them　as　the　inspirations　they　truly　were　…　he　could　Bee。
　The　Dragon's　face　is　not　visible　in　the　painting；　but　increasingly　Dolarhyde　came　to　know　how　it　looked。
　Watching　his　medical　films　in　the　parlor；　pumped　up　from　lifting；　he　stretched　his　jaw　wide　to　hold　in　Grandmother's　teeth。　They　did　not　fit　his　distorted　gums　and　his　jaw　cramped　quickly。