sk.thetalisman-第11部分

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he　could　feel　his　pulsebeat　speeding　up　in　his　temples。　There　was　a　coppery　taste　under　his　tongue　and　Jack　thought：　That's　how　his　'magic　juice'　will　taste…horrible。
　　'If　you　get　scared　and　want　to　e　back；　have　another　sip；'　Speedy　said。
　　'It'll　e　with　me？　The　bottle？　You　promise？'　The　thought　of　getting　stuck　there；　in　that　mystical　other　place；　while　his　mother　was　sick　and　Sloat…beset　back　here；　was　awful。
　　'I　promise。'
　　'Okay。'　Jack　brought　the　bottle　to　his　lips　。　。　。　and　then　let　it　fall　away　a　little。　The　smell　was　awful…sharp　and　rancid。　'I　don't　want　to；　Speedy；'　he　whispered。
　　Lester　Parker　looked　at　him；　and　his　lips　were　smiling；　but　there　was　no　smile　in　his　eyes…they　were　stern。　Unpromising。　Frightening。　Jack　thought　of　black　eyes：　eye　of　gull；　eye　of　vortex。　Terror　swept　through　him。
　　He　held　the　bottle　out　to　Speedy。　'Can't　you　take　it　back？'　he　asked；　and　his　voice　came　out　in　a　strengthless　whisper。　'Please？'
　　Speedy　made　no　reply。　He　did　not　remind　Jack　that　his　mother　was　dying；　or　that　Morgan　Sloat　was　ing。　He　didn't　call　Jack　a　coward；　although　he　had　never　in　his　life　felt　so　much　like　a　coward；　not　even　the　time　he　had　backed　away　from　the　high　board　at　Camp　Acac　and　some　of　the　other　kids　had　booed　him。　Speedy　merely　turned　around　and　whistled　at　a　cloud。
　　Now　loneliness　joined　the　terror；　sweeping　helplessly　through　him。　Speedy　had　turned　away　from　him；　Speedy　had　shown　him　his　back。
　　'Okay；'　Jack　said　suddenly。　'Okay；　if　it's　what　you　need　me　to　do。'　
　　He　raised　the　bottle　again；　and　before　he　could　have　any　second　or　third　thoughts；　he　drank。
　　The　taste　was　worse　than　anything　he　had　anticipated。　He　had　had　wine　before；　had　even　developed　some　taste　for　it　（he　especially　liked　the　dry　white　wines　his　mother　served　with　sole　or　snapper　or　swordfish）；　and　this　was　something　like　wine　。　。　。　but　at　the　same　time　it　was　a　dreadful　mockery　of　all　the　wines　he　had　drunk　before。　The　taste　was　high　and　sweet　and　rotten；　not　the　taste　of　lively　grapes　but　of　dead　grapes　that　had　not　lived　well。
　　As　his　mouth　flooded　with　that　horrible　sweet…purple　taste；　he　could　actually　see　those　grapes…dull；　dusty；　obese　and　nasty；　crawling　up　a　dirty　stucco　wall　in　a　thick；　syrupy　sunlight　that　was　silent　except　for　the　stupid　buzz　of　many　flies。
　　He　swallowed　and　thin　fire　printed　a　snail…trail　down　his　throat。
　　He　closed　his　eyes；　grimacing；　his　gorge　threatening　to　rise。　He　did　not　vomit；　although　he　believed　that　if　he　had　eaten　any　breakfast　he　would　have　done。
　　'Speedy…'
　　He　opened　his　eyes；　and　further　words　died　in　his　throat。　He　forgot　about　the　need　to　sick　up　that　horrible　parody　of　wine。　He　forgot　about　his　mother；　and　Uncle　Morgan；　and　his　father；　and　almost　everything　else。
　　Speedy　was　gone。　The　graceful　arcs　of　the　roller　coaster　against　the　sky　were　gone。　Boardwalk　Avenue　was　gone。
　　He　was　someplace　else　now。　He　was…
　　'In　the　Territories；'　Jack　whispered；　his　entire　body　crawling　with　a　mad　mixture　of　terror　and　exhilaration。　He　could　feel　the　hair　stirring　on　the　nape　of　his　neck；　could　feel　a　goofed…up　grin　pulling　at　the　corners　of　his　mouth。　'Speedy；　I'm　here；　my　God；　I'm　here　in　the　Territories！　I…'
　　　But　wonder　overcame　him。　He　clapped　a　hand　over　his　mouth　and　slowly　turned　in　a　plete　circle；　looking　at　this　place　to　which　Speedy's　'magic　juice'　had　brought　him。
　　　
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　　The　ocean　was　still　there；　but　now　it　was　a　darker；　richer　blue…the　truest　indigo　Jack　had　ever　seen。　For　a　moment　he　stood　transfixed；　the　sea…breeze　blowing　in　his　hair；　looking　at　the　horizon…line　where　that　indigo　ocean　met　a　sky　the　color　of　faded　denim。
　　That　horizon…line　showed　a　faint　but　unmistakable　curve。　
　　He　shook　his　head；　frowning；　and　turned　the　other　way。　Sea…grass；　high　and　wild　and　tangled；　ran　down　from　the　headland　where　the　round　carousel　building　had　been　only　a　minute　ago。　The　arcade　pier　was　also　gone；　where　it　had　been；　a　wild　tumble　of　granite　blocks　ran　down　to　the　ocean。　The　waves　struck　the　lowest　of　these　and　ran　into　ancient　cracks　and　channels　with　great　hollow　boomings。　Foam　as　thick　as　whipped　cream　jumped　into　the　clear　air　and　was　blown　away　by　the　wind。
　　Abruptly　Jack　seized　his　left　cheek　with　his　left　thumb　and　forefinger。　He　pinched　hard。　His　eyes　watered；　but　nothing　changed。
　　'It's　real；'　he　whispered；　and　another　wave　boomed　onto　the　headland；　raising　white　curds　of　foam。
　　Jack　suddenly　realized　that　Boardwalk　Avenue　was　still　here　。　。　。　after　a　fashion。　A　rutted　cart…track　ran　from　the　top　of　the　headland…where　Boardwalk　Avenue　had　ended　at　the　entrance　to　the　arcade　in　what　his　mind　persisted　in　thinking　of　as　'the　real　world'…down　to　where　he　was　standing　and　then　on　to　the　north；　just　as　Boardwalk　Avenue　ran　north；　being　Arcadia　Avenue　after　it　passed　under　the　arch　at　the　border　of　Funworld。　Sea…grass　grew　up　along　the　center　of　this　track；　but　it　had　a　bent　and　matted　look　that　made　Jack　think　that　the　track　was　still　used；　at　least　once　in　a　while。
　　He　started　north；　still　holding　the　green　bottle　in　his　right　hand。　It　occurred　to　him　that　somewhere；　in　another　world；　Speedy　was　holding　the　cap　that　went　on　this　bottle。
　　Did　I　disappear　right　in　front　of　him？　I　suppose　I　must　have。　Jeez！
　　About　forty　paces　along　the　track；　he　came　upon　a　tangle　of　blackberry　bushes。　Clustered　amid　the　thorns　were　the　fattest；　darkest；　most　lush…looking　blackberries　he　had　ever　seen。　Jack's　stomach；　apparently　over　the　indignity　of　the　'magic　juice；'　made　a　loud　goinging　sound。
　　Blackberries？　In　September？
　　Never　mind。　After　all　that　had　happened　today　（and　it　was　not　yet　ten　o'clock）；　sticking　at　blackberries　in　September　seemed　a　little　bit　like　refusing　to　take　an　aspirin　after　one　has　swallowed　a　doorknob。
　　Jack　reached　in；　picked　a　handful　of　berries；　and　tossed　them　into　his　mouth。　They　were　amazingly　sweet；　amazingly　good。　Smiling　（his　lips　had　taken　on　a　definite　bluish　cast）；　thinking　it　quite　possible　that　he　had　lost　his　mind；　he　picked　another　handful　of　berries　。　。　。　and　then　a　third。　He　had　never　tasted　anything　so　fine…although；　he　thought　later；　it　was　not　just　the　berries　themselves；　part　of　it　was　the　incredible　clarity　of　the　air。
　　He　got　a　couple　of　scratches　while　picking　a　fourth　helping…it　was　as　if　the　bushes　were　telling　him　to　lay　off；　enough　was　enough；　already。　He　sucked　at　the　deepest　of　the　scratches；　on　the　fleshy　pad　below　the　thumb；　and　then　headed　north　along　the　twin　ruts　again；　moving　slowly；　trying　to　look　everywhere　at　once。
　　He　paused　a　little　way　from　the　blackberry　tangles　to　look　up　at　the　sun；　which　seemed　somehow　smaller　and　yet　more　fiery。　Did　it　have　a　faint　orange　cast；　like　in　those　old　medieval　pictures？　Jack　thought　perhaps　it　did。　And…
　　A　cry；　as　rusty　and　unpleasant　as　an　old　nail　being　pulled　slowly　out　of　a　board；　suddenly　arose　on　his　right；　scattering　his　thoughts。　Jack　turned　toward　it；　his　shoulders　going　up；　his　eyes　widening。
　　It　was　a　gull…and　its　size　was　mind…boggling；　almost　unbelievable　（but　there　it　was；　as　solid　as　stone；　as　real　as　houses）。　It　was；　in　fact；　the　size　of　an　eagle。　Its　smooth　white　bullet…head　cocked　to　one　side。　Its　fishhook　of　a　beak　opened　and　closed。　It　fluttered　great　wings；　rippling　the　sea…grass　around　it。
　　And　then；　seemingly　without　fear；　it　began　to　hop　toward　Jack。
　　Faintly；　Jack　heard　the　clear；　brazen　note　of　many　horns　blown　together　in　a　simple　flourish；　and　for　no　reason　at　all　he　thought　of　his　mother。
　　He　glanced　to　the　north　momentarily；　in　the　direction　he　had　been　travelling；　drawn　by　that　sound…it　filled　him　with　a　sense　of　unfocussed　urgency。　It　was；　he　thought　（when　there　was　time　to　think）；　like　being　hungry　for　a　specific　something　that　you　haven't　had　in　a　long　time…ice　cream；　potato　chips；　maybe　a　taco。　You　don't　know　until　you　see　it…and　until　you　do；　there　is　only　a　need　without　a　name；　making　you　restless；　making　you　nervous。
　　He　saw　pennons　and　the　peak　of　what　might　have　been　a　great　tent…a　pavillion…against　the　sky。
　　That's　where　the　Alhambra　is；　he　thought；　and　then　the　gull　shrieked　at　him。　He　turned　toward　it　and　was　alarmed　to　see　it　was　now　less　than　six　feet　away。　Its　beak　opened　again；　showing　that　dirty　pink　lining；　making　him　think　of　yesterday；　the　gull　that　had　dropped　the　clam　on　the　rock　and　then　fixed　him　with　a　horrid　stare　exactly　like　this　one。　The　gull　was　grinning　at　him…he　was　sure　of　it。　As　it　hopped　closer；　Jack　could　smell　a　low　and　noisome　stink　hanging　about　it…dead　fish　and　rotted　seaweed。
　　The　gull　hissed　at　him　and　flurried　its　wings　again。　
　　'Get　out　of　here；'　Jack　said　loudly。　His　heart　was　pumping　quick　blood　and　his　mouth　had　gone　dry；　but　he　did　not　want　to　be　scared　off　by　a　seagull；　even　a　big　one。　'Get　out！'　
　　The　gull　opened　its　beak　again　。　。　。　and　then；　in　a　terrible；　open…throated　series　of　pulses；　it　spoke…or　seemed　to。
　　'Other's　iyyyin　Ack　。　。　。　other's　iyyyyyyyyyyin…'
　　Mother's　dying；　Jack　。　。　。
　　The　gull　took　another　clumsy　hop　toward　him；　scaly　feet　clutching　at　the　grassy　tangles；　beak　opening　and　closing；　black　eyes　fixed　on　Jack's。　Hardly　aware　of　what　he　was　doing；　Jack　raised　the　green　bottle　and　drank。
　　Again　that　horrible　taste　made　him　wince　his　eyes　shut…and　when　he　opened　them　he　was　looking　stupidly　at　a　yellow　sign　which　showed　the　black　silhouettes　of　two　running　kids；　a　little　boy　and　a　little　girl。　SLOW　CHILDREN；　this　sign　read。　A　seagull…this　one　of　perfectly　normal　size…flew　up　from　it　with　a　squawk；　no　doubt　startled　by　Jack's　sudden　appearance。
　　He　looked　around；　and　was　walloped　by　disorientation。　His　stomach；　full　of　blackberries　and　Speedy's　pustulant　'magic　juice；'　rolled　over；　groaning。　The　muscles　in　his　legs　began　to　flutter　unpleasantly；　and　all　at　once　he　sat　down　on　the　curb　at　the　base　of　the　sign　with　a　bang　that　travelled　up　his　spine　and　made　his　teeth　click　together。
　　He　suddenly　leaned　over　between　his　splayed　knees　and　opened　his　mouth　wide；　sure　he　was　just　going　to　yark　up　the　whole　works。　Instead　he　hiccuped　twice；　half…gagged；　and　then　felt　his　stomach　slowly　relax。
　　It　was　the　berries；　he　thought。　If　it　hadn