sk.thetalisman-第111部分

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　　After　midnight　the　train　began　to　hum　through　stands　of　trees…most　of　them　were　evergreens；　and　their　piney　scent；　mixed　with　the　salty　tang　in　the　air；　seemed　to　cement　the　connection　between　this　place　he　was　ing　to　and　the　place　from　which　he　had　set　out。　He　and　his　mother　had　never　spent　a　great　deal　of　time　in　northern　California…perhaps　because　Bloat　vacationed　there　often…but　he　remembered　Lily's　telling　him　that　the　land　around　Mendocino　and　Sausalito　looked　very　much　like　New　England；　right　down　to　the　salt…boxes　and　Cape　Cods。　Film　panies　in　need　of　New　En…gland　settings　usually　just　went　upstate　rather　than　travelling　all　the　way　across　the　country；　and　most　audiences　never　knew　the　difference。
　　This　is　how　it　should　be。　In　a　weird　way；　I'm　ing　back　to　the　place　I　left　behind。
　　Richard：　Are　you　expecting　to　fight　an　army？
　　He　was　glad　Richard　had　gone　to　sleep；　so　he　wouldn't　have　to　answer　that　question…at　least；　not　yet。
　　Anders：　Devil…things。　For　the　bad　Wolfs。　To　take　to　the　black　hotel。
　　The　devil…things　were　Uzi　machine…guns；　plastic　explosive；　grenades。　The　devil…things　were　here。　The　bad　Wolfs　were　not。　The　boxcar；　however；　was　empty；　and　Jack　found　that　fact　terribly　persuasive。
　　Here's　a　story　for　you；　Richie…boy；　and　I'm　very　glad　you're　asleep　so　I　don't　have　to　tell　it　to　you。　Morgan　knows　I'm　ing；　and　he's　planning　a　surprise　party。　Only　it's　werewolves　instead　of　naked　girls　who　are　going　to　jump　out　of　the　cake；　and　they're　supposed　to　have　Uzi　machine…guns　and　grenades　as　party…favors。　Well；　we　sort　of　hijacked　his　train；　and　we're　running　ten　or　twelve　hours　ahead　of　schedule；　but　if　we're　heading　into　an　encampment　full　of　Wolfs　waiting　to　catch　the　Territories　choo…choo…and　I　think　that's　just　what　we're　doing…we're　going　to　need　all　the　surprise　we　can　get。
　　Jack　ran　a　hand　up　the　side　of　his　face。
　　It　would　be　easier　to　stop　the　train　well　away　from　wherever　Morgan's　hit…squad　was；　and　make　a　big　circle　around　the　encampment。　Easier　and　safer；　too。
　　But　that　would　leave　the　bad　Wolfs　around；　Richie；　can　you　dig　it？
　　He　looked　down　at　the　arsenal　on　the　floor　of　the　cab　and　wondered　if　he　could　really　be　planning　a　mando　raid　on　Morgan's　Wolf　Brigade。　Some　mandos。　Good　old　Jack　Sawyer；　King　of　the　Vagabond　Dishwashers；　and　His　atose　Sidekick；　Richard。　Jack　wondered　if　he　had　gone　crazy。　He　supposed　he　had；　because　that　was　exactly　what　he　was　planning…it　would　be　the　last　thing　any　of　them　would　expect　。　。　。　and　there　had　been　too　much；　too　much；　too　god…dam　much。　He　had　been　whipped；　Wolf　had　been　killed。　They　had　destroyed　Richard's　school　and　most　of　Richard's　sanity；　and；　for　all　he　knew；　Morgan　Sloat　was　back　in　New　Hampshire；　harrying　his　mother。
　　Crazy　or　not；　payback　time　had　e。
　　Jack　bent　over；　picked　up　one　of　the　loaded　Uzis；　and　held　it　over　his　arm　as　the　tracks　unrolled　in　front　of　him　and　the　smell　of　salt　grew　steadily　stronger。
　　　
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　　During　the　small　hours　of　the　morning　Jack　slept　awhile；　leaning　against　the　accelerator　bar。　It　would　not　have　forted　him　much　to　know　such　a　device　was　called　a　dead…man's　switch。　When　dawn　came；　it　was　Richard　who　woke　him　up。
　　'Something　up　ahead。'
　　Before　looking　at　that；　Jack　took　a　good　look　at　Richard。　He　had　hoped　that　Richard　would　look　better　in　daylight；　but　not　even　the　cosmetic　of　dawn　could　disguise　the　fact　that　Richard　was　sick。　The　color　of　the　new　day　had　changed　the　dominant　color　in　his　skin…tone　from　gray　to　yellow　。　。　。　that　was　all。
　　'Hey！　Train！　Hello　you　big　fuckin　train！'　This　shout　was　guttural；　little　more　than　an　animal　roar。　Jack　looked　forward　again。
　　They　were　closing　in　on　a　narrow　little　pillbox　of　a　building。
　　Standing　outside　the　guardhouse　was　a　Wolf…but　any　resemblance　to　Jack's　Wolf　ended　with　the　flaring　orange　eyes。　This　Wolf's　head　looked　dreadfully　flattened；　as　if　a　great　hand　had　scythed　off　the　curve　of　skull　at　the　top。　His　face　seemed　to　jut　over　his　underslung　jaw　like　a　boulder　teetering　over　a　long　drop。　Even　the　present　surprised　joy　on　that　face　could　not　conceal　its　thick；　brutal　stupidity。　Braided　pigtails　of　hair　hung　from　his　cheeks。　A　scar　in　the　shape　of　an　X　rode　his　forehead。
　　The　Wolf　was　wearing　something　like　a　mercenary's　uniform…or　what　he　imagined　a　mercenary's　uniform　would　look　like。　Baggy　green　pants　were　bloused　out　over　black　boots…but　the　toes　of　the　boots　had　been　cut　off；　Jack　saw；　to　allow　the　Wolf's　long…nailed；　hairy　toes　to　protrude。
　　'Train！'　he　bark…growled　as　the　engine　closed　the　last　fifty　yards。　He　began　to　jump　up　and　down；　grinning　savagely。　He　was　snapping　his　fingers　like　Cab　Calloway。　Foam　flew　from　his　jaws　in　unlovely　clots。　'Train！　Train！　Fuckin　train　RIGHT　HERE　AND　NOW！'　His　mouth　yawned　open　in　a　great　and　alarming　grin；　showing　a　mouthful　of　broken　yellow　spears。　'You　guys　some　kinda　fuckin　early；　okay；　okay！'
　　'Jack；　what　is　it？'　Richard　asked。　His　hand　was　clutching　Jack's　shoulder　with　panicky　tightness；　but　to　his　credit；　his　voice　was　fairly　even。
　　'It's　a　Wolf。　One　of　Morgan's。'
　　There；　Jack；　you　said　his　name。　Asshole！
　　But　there　was　no　time　to　worry　about　that　now。　They　were　ing　abreast　of　the　guardhouse；　and　the　Wolf　obviously　meant　to　swing　aboard。　As　Jack　watched；　he　cut　a　clumsy　caper　in　the　dust；　cut…off　boots　thumping。　He　had　a　knife　in　the　leather　belt　he　wore　across　his　naked　chest　like　a　bandoleer；　but　no　gun。
　　Jack　flicked　the　control　on　the　Uzi　to　single…fire。
　　'Morgan？　Who's　Morgan？　Which　Morgan？'
　　'Not　now；'　Jack　said。
　　His　concentration　narrowed　down　to　a　fine　point…the　Wolf。　He　manufactured　a　big；　plastic　grin　for　his　benefit；　holding　the　Uzi　down　and　well　out　of　sight。
　　'Anders…train！　All…fuckin…right！　Here　and　now！'
　　A　handle　like　a　big　staple　stuck　off　from　the　right　side　of　the　engine；　above　a　wide　step　like　a　running　board。　Grinning　wildly；　drizzling　foam　over　his　chin　and　obviously　insane；　the　Wolf　grabbed　the　handle　and　leaped　lightly　up　onto　the　step。
　　'Hey；　where's　the　old　man？　Wolf！　Where's…'
　　Jack　raised　the　Uzi　and　put　a　bullet　into　the　Wolf's　left　eye。　
　　The　glaring　orange　light　puffed　out　like　a　candle…flame　in　a　strong　gust　of　wind。　The　Wolf　fell　backward　off　the　step　like　a　man　doing　a　rather　stupid　dive。　He　thudded　loosely　on　the　ground。
　　'Jack！'　Richard　pulled　him　around。　His　face　looked　as　wild　as　the　Wolf's　face　had　been…only　it　was　terror；　not　joy；　that　distorted　it。　'Did　you　mean　my　father？　Is　my　father　involved　in　this？'
　　'Richard；　do　you　trust　me？'
　　'Yes；　but…'
　　'Then　let　it　go。　Let　it　go。　This　is　not　the　time。'
　　'But…'
　　'Get　a　gun。'
　　'Jack…'
　　'Richard；　get　a　gun！'
　　Richard　bent　over　and　got　one　of　the　Uzis。　'I　hate　guns；'　he　said　again。
　　'Yeah；　I　know。　I'm　not　particularly　keen　on　them　myself；　Richie…boy。　But　it's　payback　time。'
　　　
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　　The　tracks　were　now　approaching　a　high　stockade　wall。　From　behind　it　came　grunts　and　yells；　cheers；　rhythmic　clapping；　the　sound　of　bootheels　punching　down　on　bare　earth　in　steady　rhythms。　There　were　other；　less　identifiable　sounds　as　well；　but　all　of　them　fell　into　a　vague　set　for　Jack…military　training　operation。　The　area　between　the　guardhouse　and　the　approaching　stockade　wall　was　half　a　mile　wide；　and　with　all　this　other　stuff　going　on；　Jack　doubted　that　anyone　had　heard　his　single　shot。　The　train；　being　electric；　was　almost　silent。　The　advantage　of　surprise　should　still　be　on　their　side。
　　The　tracks　disappeared　beneath　a　closed　double　gate　in　the　side　of　the　stockade　wall。　Jack　could　see　chinks　of　daylight　between　the　rough…peeled　logs。
　　'Jack；　you　better　slow　down。'　They　were　now　a　hundred　and　fifty　yards　from　the　gate。　From　behind　it；　bellowing　voices　chanted；　'Sound…HOFF！　Hun…too！　Hree…FO！　Sound…HOFF！'　Jack　thought　again　of　H。　G。　Wells's　manimals　and　shivered。
　　'No　way；　chum。　We're　through　the　gate。　You　got　just　about　time　to　do　the　Fish　Cheer。'
　　'Jack；　you're　crazy！'
　　'I　know。'　
　　A　hundred　yards。　The　batteries　hummed。　A　blue　spark　jumped；　sizzling。　Bare　earth　flowed　past　them　on　either　side。　No　grain　here；　Jack　thought。　If　No？l　Coward　had　written　a　play　about　Morgan　Sloat；　I　guess　he　would　have　called　it　Blight　Spirit。
　　'Jack；　what　if　this　creepy　little　train　jumps　its　tracks？'
　　'Well；　it　might；　I　guess；'　Jack　said。
　　'Or　what　if　it　breaks　through　the　gate　and　the　tracks　just　end？'
　　'That'd　be　one　on　us；　wouldn't　it？'　
　　Fifty　yards。
　　'Jack；　you　really　have　lost　your　mind；　haven't　you？'
　　'I　guess　so。　Take　your　gun　off　safety；　Richard。'　
　　Richard　flicked　the　safety。
　　Thuds　。　。　。　grunts　。　。　。　marching　men　。　。　。　the　creak　of　leather　。　。　。　yells　。　。　。　an　inhuman；　laughing　shriek　that　made　Richard　cringe。　And　yet　Jack　saw　a　clear　resolution　in　Richard's　face　that　made　Jack　grin　with　pride。　He　means　to　stick　by　me…old　Rational　Richard　or　not；　he　really　means　to　stick　by　me。
　　Twenty…five　yards。
　　Shrieks　。　。　。　squeals　。　。　。　shouted　mands　。　。　。　and　a　thick；　reptilian　cry…Groooo…OOOO！…that　made　the　hair　stand　up　on　the　back　of　Jack's　neck。
　　'If　we　get　out　of　this；'　Jack　said；　'I'll　buy　you　a　chili…dog　at　Dairy　Queen。'
　　'Barf　me　out！'　Richard　yelled；　and；　incredibly；　he　began　to　laugh。　In　that　instant　the　unhealthy　yellow　seemed　to　fade　a　bit　from　his　face。
　　Five　yards…and　the　peeled　posts　which　made　up　the　gate　looked　solid；　yes；　very　solid；　and　Jack　just　had　time　to　wonder　if　he　hadn't　made　a　great　big　fat　mistake。
　　'Get　down；　chum！'
　　'Don't　call　m…'
　　The　train　hit　the　stockade　gate；　throwing　them　both　forward。
　　　
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　　The　gate　was　really　quite　strong；　and　in　addition　it　was　double…barred　across　the　inside　with　two　large　logs。　Morgan's　train　was　not　terribly　big；　and　the　batteries　were　nearly　flat　after　its　long　run　across　the　Blasted　Lands。　The　collision　surely　would　have　derailed　it；　and　both　boys　might　well　have　been　killed　in　the　wreck；　but　the　gate　had　an　Achilles'　heel。　New　hinges；　forged　according　to　modern　American　processes；　were　on　order。　They　had　not　yet　arrived；　however；　and　the　old　iron　hinges　snapped　when　the　engine　hit　the　gate。
　　The　train　came　rolling　into　the　stockade　a