sk.thetalisman-第112部分

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engine　hit　the　gate。
　　The　train　came　rolling　into　the　stockade　at　twenty…five　miles　an　hour；　pushing　the　amputated　gate　in　front　of　it。　An　obstacle　course　had　been　built　around　the　stockade's　perimeter；　and　the　gate；　acting　like　a　snowplow；　began　shoving　makeshift　wooden　hurdles　in　front　of　it；　turning　them；　rolling　them；　snapping　them　into　splinters。
　　It　also　struck　a　Wolf　who　had　been　doing　punishment　laps。　His　feet　disappeared　under　the　bottom　of　the　moving　gate　and　were　chewed　off；　customized　boots　and　all。　Shrieking　and　growling；　his　Change　beginning；　the　Wolf　began　to　claw…climb　his　way　up　the　gate　with　fingernails　which　were　growing　rapidly　to　the　length　and　sharpness　of　a　telephone…lineman's　spikes。　The　gate　was　now　forty　feet　inside　the　stockade。　Amazingly；　he　got　almost　to　the　top　before　Jack　dropped　the　gear…lever　into　neutral。　The　train　stopped。　The　gate　fell　over；　puffing　up　big　dust　and　crushing　the　unfortunate　Wolf　beneath　it。　Underneath　the　last　car　of　the　train；　the　Wolf's　severed　feet　continued　to　grow　hair；　and　would　for　several　more　minutes。
　　The　situation　inside　the　camp　was　better　than　Jack　had　dared　hope。　The　place　apparently　woke　up　early；　as　military　installations　have　a　way　of　doing；　and　most　of　the　troops　seemed　to　be　out；　going　through　a　bizarre　menu　of　drills　and　body…building　exercises。
　　'On　the　right！'　he　shouted　at　Richard。
　　'Do　what？'　Richard　shouted　back。
　　Jack　opened　his　mouth　and　cried　out：　for　Uncle　Tommy　Woodbine；　run　down　in　the　street；　for　an　unknown　carter；　whipped　to　death　in　a　muddy　courtyard；　for　Ferd　Janklow；　for　Wolf；　dead　in　Sunlight　Gardener's　filthy　office；　for　his　mother；　but　most　of　all；　he　discovered；　for　Queen　Laura　DeLoessian；　who　was　also　his　mother；　and　for　the　crime　that　was　being　carried　out　on　the　body　of　the　Territories。　He　cried　out　as　Jason；　and　his　voice　was　thunder。
　　'TEAR　THEM　UP！'　Jack　Sawyer/Jason　DeLoessian　bellowed；　and　opened　fire　on　the　left。
　　　
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　　There　was　a　rough　parade　ground　on　Jack's　side；　a　long　log　building　on　Richard's。　The　log　building　looked　like　the　bunkhouse　in　a　Roy　Rogers　movie；　but　Richard　guessed　that　it　was　a　barracks。　In　fact；　this　whole　place　looked　more　familiar　to　Richard　than　anything　he　had　seen　so　far　in　this　weird　world　Jack　had　taken　him　into。　He　had　seen　places　like　it　on　the　TV　news。　CIA…supported　rebels　training　for　takeovers　of　South　and　Central　American　countries　trained　in　places　like　this。　Only；　the　training　camps　were　usually　in　Florida；　and　those　weren't　cubanos　pouring　out　of　the　barracks…Richard　didn't　know　what　they　were。
　　Some　of　them　looked　a　bit　like　medieval　paintings　of　devils　and　satyrs。　Some　looked　like　degenerate　human　beings…cave…people；　almost。　And　one　of　the　things　lurching　into　the　early…morning　sunlight　had　scaly　skin　and　nictitating　eyelids　。　。　。　it　looked　to　Richard　Sloat　like　an　alligator　that　was　somehow　walking　upright。　As　he　looked；　the　thing　lifted　its　snout　and　uttered　that　cry　he　and　Jack　had　heard　earlier：　Grooo…OOOOO！　He　just　had　time　to　see　that　most　of　these　hellish　creatures　looked　totally　bewildered；　and　then　Jack's　Uzi　split　the　world　with　thunder。
　　On　Jack's　side；　roughly　two　dozen　Wolfs　had　been　doing　callies　on　the　parade　ground。　Like　the　guardhouse　Wolf；　most　wore　green　fatigue　pants；　boots　with　cut…off　toes；　and　bandoleer　belts。　Like　the　guard；　they　looked　stupid；　flatheaded；　and　essentially　evil。
　　They　had　paused　in　the　middle　of　a　spastic　set　of　jumping　jacks　to　watch　the　train　e　roaring　in；　the　gate　and　the　unfortunate　fellow　who　had　been　running　laps　at　the　wrong　place　and　time　plastered　to　the　front。　At　Jack's　cry　they　began　to　move；　but　by　then　they　were　too　late。
　　Most　of　Morgan's　carefully　culled　Wolf　Brigade；　hand…picked　over　a　period　of　five　years　for　their　strength　and　brutality；　their　fear　of　and　loyalty　to　Morgan；　were　wiped　out　in　one　spitting；　raking　burst　of　the　machine…gun　in　Jack's　hands。　They　went　stumbling　and　reeling　backward；　chests　blown　open；　heads　bleeding。　There　were　growls　of　bewildered　anger　and　howls　of　pain　。　。　。　but　not　many。　Most　of　them　simply　died。
　　Jack　popped　the　clip；　grabbed　another　one；　slammed　it　in。　On　the　left　side　of　the　parade　ground；　four　of　the　Wolfs　had　escaped；　in　the　center　two　more　had　dropped　below　the　line　of　fire。　Both　of　these　had　been　wounded　but　now　both　were　ing　at　him；　long…nailed　toes　digging　divots　in　the　packed　dust；　faces　sprouting　hair；　eyes　flaring。　As　they　ran　at　the　engine；　Jack　saw　fangs　grow　out　of　their　mouths　and　push　through　fresh；　wiry　hair　growing　from　their　chins。
　　He　pulled　the　trigger　on　the　Uzi；　now　holding　the　hot　barrel　down　only　with　an　effort；　the　heavy　recoil　was　trying　to　force　the　muzzle　up。　Both　of　the　attacking　Wolfs　were　thrown　back　so　violently　that　they　flipped　through　the　air　head…over…heels　like　acrobats。　The　other　four　Wolfs　did　not　pause；　they　headed　for　the　place　where　the　gate　had　been　two　minutes　before。
　　The　assorted　creatures　which　had　spilled　out　of　the　bunkhouse…style　barracks　building　seemed　to　be　finally　getting　the　idea　that；　although　the　newers　were　driving　Morgan's　train；　they　were　a　good　deal　less　than　friendly。　There　was　no　concentrated　charge；　but　they　began　to　move　forward　in　a　muttering　clot。　Richard　laid　the　Uzi's　barrel　on　the　chest…high　side　of　the　engine　cab　and　opened　fire。　The　slugs　tore　them　open；　drove　them　backward。　Two　of　the　things　which　looked　like　goats　dropped　to　hands　and　knees…or　hooves…and　scurried　back　inside。　Richard　saw　three　others　spin　and　drop　under　the　force　of　the　slugs。　A　joy　so　savage　that　it　made　him　feel　faint　swept　through　him。
　　Bullets　also　tore　open　the　whitish…green　belly　of　the　alligator…thing；　and　a　blackish　fluid…ichor；　not　blood…began　to　pour　out　of　it。　It　fell　backward；　but　its　tail　seemed　to　cushion　it。　It　sprang　back　up　and　leaped　at　Richard's　side　of　the　train。　It　uttered　its　rough；　powerful　cry　again　。　。　。　and　this　time　it　seemed　to　Richard　that　there　was　something　hideously　feminine　in　that　cry。
　　He　pulled　the　trigger　of　the　Uzi。　Nothing　happened。　The　clip　was　spent。
　　The　alligator…thing　ran　with　slow；　clumsy；　thudding　determination。　Its　eyes　sparkled　with　murderous　fury　。　。　。　and　intelligence。　The　vestiges　of　breasts　bounced　on　its　scaly　chest。
　　He　bent；　groped；　without　taking　his　eyes　off　the　were…alligator；　and　found　one　of　the　grenades。
　　Seabrook　Island；　Richard　thought　dreamily。　Jack　calls　this　place　the　Territories；　but　it's　really　Seabrook　Island；　and　there　is　no　need　to　be　afraid；　really　no　need；　this　is　all　a　dream　and　if　that　thing's　scaly　claws　settle　around　my　neck　I　will　surely　wake　up；　and　even　if　it's　not　all　a　dream；　Jack　will　save　me　somehow…I　know　he　will；　I　know　it；　because　over　here　Jack　is　some　kind　of　a　god。
　　He　pulled　the　pin　on　the　grenade；　restrained　the　strong　urge　he　felt　to　simply　chuck　it　in　a　panicky　frenzy；　and　lobbed　it　gently；　underhand。　'Jack；　get　down！'　
　　Jack　dropped　below　the　level　of　the　engine　cab's　sides　at　once；　without　looking。　Richard　did；　too；　but　not　before　he　had　seen　an　incredible；　blackly　ic　thing：　the　alligator…creature　had　caught　the　grenade　。　。　。　and　was　trying　to　eat　it。
　　The　explosion　was　not　the　dull　crump　Richard　had　expected　but　a　loud；　braying　roar　that　drilled　into　his　ears；　hurting　them　badly。　He　heard　a　splash；　as　if　someone　had　thrown　a　bucket　of　water　against　his　side　of　the　train。
　　He　looked　up　and　saw　that　the　engine；　boxcar　and　flatcar　were　covered　with　hot　guts；　black　blood；　and　shreds　of　the　alligator…creature's　flesh。　The　entire　front　of　the　barracks　building　had　been　blown　away。　Much　of　the　splintered　rubble　was　bloody。　In　the　midst　of　it　he　saw　a　hairy　foot　in　a　boot　with　a　cut…off　toe。
　　The　jackstraw　blowdown　of　logs　was　thrown　aside　as　he　watched；　and　two　of　the　goatlike　creatures　began　to　pull　themselves　out。　Richard　bent；　found　a　fresh　clip；　and　slammed　it　into　his　gun。　It　was　getting　hot；　just　as　Jack　had　said　it　would。
　　Whoopee！　Richard　thought　faintly；　and　opened　fire　again。
　　　
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　　When　Jack　popped　up　after　the　grenade　explosion；　he　saw　that　the　four　Wolfs　who　had　escaped　his　first　two　fusillades　were　just　running　through　the　hole　where　the　gate　had　been。　They　were　howling　with　terror。　They　were　running　side　by　side；　and　Jack　had　a　clear　shot　at　them。　He　raised　the　Uzi…then　lowered　it　again；　knowing　he　would　see　them　later；　probably　at　the　black　hotel；　knowing　he　was　a　fool　。　。　。　but；　fool　or　not；　he　was　unable　to　just　let　them　have　it　in　the　back。
　　Now　a　high；　womanish　shrieking　began　from　behind　the　barracks。　'Get　out　there！　Get　out　there；　I　say！　Move！　Move！'　There　was　the　whistling　crack　of　a　whip。
　　Jack　knew　that　sound；　and　he　knew　that　voice。　He　had　been　wrapped　up　in　a　strait…jacket　when　he　had　last　heard　it。　Jack　would　have　known　that　voice　anywhere。
　　…If　his　retarded　friend　shows　up；　shoot　him。
　　Well；　you　managed　that；　but　maybe　now　it's　payback　time…and　maybe；　from　the　way　your　voice　sounds；　you　know　it。
　　'Get　them；　what's　the　matter　with　you　cowards？　Get　them；　do　I　have　to　show　you　how　to　do　everything？　Follow　us；　follow　us！'
　　Three　creatures　came　from　behind　what　remained　of　the　barracks；　and　only　one　of　them　was　clearly　human…Osmond。　He　carried　his　whip　in　one　hand；　a　Sten　gun　in　the　other。　He　wore　a　red　cloak　and　black　boots　and　white　silk　pants　with　wide；　flowing　legs。　They　were　splattered　with　fresh　blood。　To　his　left　was　a　shaggy　goat…creature　wearing　jeans　and　Westernstyle　boots。　This　creature　and　Jack　looked　at　each　other　and　shared　a　moment　of　plete　recognition。　It　was　the　dreadful　barroom　cowboy　from　the　Oatley　Tap。　It　was　Randolph　Scott。　It　was　Elroy。　It　grinned　at　Jack；　its　long　tongue　snaked　out　and　lapped　its　wide　upper　lip。
　　'Get　him！'　Osmond　screamed　at　Elroy。
　　Jack　tried　to　lift　the　Uzi；　but　it　suddenly　seemed　very　heavy　in　his　arms。　Osmond　was　bad；　the　reappearance　of　Elroy　was　worse；　but　the　thing　between　the　two　of　them　was　a　nightmare。　It　was　the　Territories　version　of　Reuel　Gardener；　of　course；　the　son　of　Osmond；　the　son　of　Sunlight。　And　it　did　indeed　look　a　bit　like　a　child…a　child　as　drawn　by　a　bright　kindergarten　student　with　a　cruel　turn　of　mind。
　　It　was　curdy…white　and　skinny