sk.thetalisman-第116部分

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　　（six；　Jacky　was　six）
　　Jack　had　overheard　his　father　and　Morgan　Sloat　talking　about　a　place　they　went　to；　a　place　that　Jacky　called　the　Daydream…country。　And　later　that　year；　something　had　reached　out　of　the　dark　and　had　touched　him　and　his　mother。　It　had　been　nothing　more　or　less　than　Morgan　Sloat's　voice。　Morgan　Sloat　calling　from　Green　River；　Utah。　Sobbing。　He；　Phil　Sawyer；　and　Tommy　Woodbine　had　left　three　days　before　on　their　yearly　November　hunting　trip…another　college　chum；　Randy　Glover；　owned　a　luxurious　hunting　lodge　in　Blessing…ton；　Utah。　Glover　usually　hunted　with　them；　but　that　year　he　had　been　cruising　in　the　Caribbean。　Morgan　called　to　say　that　Phil　had　been　shot；　apparently　by　another　hunter。　He　and　Tommy　Woodbine　had　packed　him　out　of　the　wilderness　on　a　lashed…together　stretcher。　Phil　had　regained　consciousness　in　the　back　of　Glover's　Jeep　Cherokee；　Morgan　said；　and　had　asked　that　Morgan　send　his　love　to　Lily　and　Jack。　He　died　fifteen　minutes　later；　as　Morgan　drove　wildly　toward　Green　River　and　the　nearest　hospital。
　　Morgan　had　not　killed　Phil；　there　was　Tommy　to　testify　that　the　three　of　them　had　been　together　when　the　shot　rang　out；　if　any　testimony　had　ever　been　required　（and；　of　course；　none　ever　was）。
　　But　that　was　not　to　say　he　couldn't　have　hired　it　done；　Jack　thought　now。　And　it　was　not　to　say　that　Uncle　Tommy　might　not　have　harbored　his　own　long　doubts　about　what　had　happened。　If　so；　maybe　Uncle　Tommy　hadn't　been　killed　just　so　that　Jack　and　his　dying　mother　would　be　totally　unprotected　from　Morgan's　depredations。　Maybe　he　had　died　because　Morgan　was　tired　of　wondering　if　the　old　faggot　might　finally　hint　to　the　surviving　son　that　there　might　have　been　more　to　Phil　Sawyer's　death　than　an　accident。　Jack　felt　his　skin　crawl　with　dismay　and　revulsion。
　　'Was　that　man　around　before　your　father　and　my　father　went　hunting　together　that　last　time？'　Jack　asked　fiercely。
　　'Jack；　I　was　four　years　old…'
　　'No；　you　weren't；　you　were　six。　You　were　four　when　he　started　ing；　you　were　six　when　my　father　got　killed　in　Utah。　And　you　don't　forget　much；　Richard。　Did　he　e　around　before　my　father　died？'
　　'That　was　the　time　he　came　almost　every　night　for　a　week；'　Richard　said；　his　voice　barely　audible。　'Just　before　that　last　hunting　trip。'　
　　Although　none　of　this　was　precisely　Richard's　fault；　Jack　was　unable　to　contain　his　bitterness。　'My　dad　dead　in　a　hunting　accident　in　Utah；　Uncle　Tommy　run　down　in　L。A。　The　death…rate　among　your　father's　friends　is　very　fucking　high；　Richard。'
　　'Jack…'　Richard　began　in　a　small；　trembling　voice。
　　'I　mean　it's　all　water　over　the　dam；　or　spilled　milk；　or　pick　your　cliché；'　Jack　said。　'But　when　I　showed　up　at　your　school；　Richard；　you　called　me　crazy。'
　　'Jack；　you　don't　under…'
　　'No；　I　guess　I　don't。　I　was　tired　and　you　gave　me　a　place　to　sleep。　Fine。　I　was　hungry　and　you　got　me　some　food。　Great。　But　what　I　needed　most　was　for　you　to　believe　me。　I　knew　it　was　too　much　to　expect；　but　jeepers！　You　knew　the　guy　I　was　talking　about！　You　knew　he'd　been　in　your　father's　life　before！　And　you　just　said　something　like　'Good　old　Jack's　been　spending　too　much　time　in　the　hot　sun　out　there　on　Seabrook　Island　and　blah…blah…blah！'　Jesus；　Richard；　I　thought　we　were　better　friends　than　that。'
　　'You　still　don't　understand。'
　　'What？　That　you　were　too　afraid　of　Seabrook　Island　stuff　to　believe　in　me　a　little？'　Jack's　voice　wavered　with　tired　indignation。
　　'No。　I　was　afraid　of　more　than　that。'
　　'Oh　yeah？'　Jack　stopped　and　looked　at　Richard's　pale；　miserable　face　truculently。　'What　could　be　more　than　that　for　Rational　Richard？'
　　'I　was　afraid；'　Richard　said　in　a　perfectly　calm　voice。　'I　was　afraid　that　if　I　knew　any　more　about　those　secret　pockets　。　。　。　that　man　Osmond；　or　what　was　in　the　closet　that　time；　I　wouldn't　be　able　to　love　my　father　anymore。　And　I　was　right。'　
　　Richard　covered　his　face　with　his　thin；　dirty　fingers　and　began　to　cry。
　　　
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　　Jack　stood　watching　Richard　cry　and　damned　himself　for　twenty　kinds　of　fool。　No　matter　what　else　Morgan　was；　he　was　still　Richard　Sloat's　father；　Morgan's　ghost　lurked　in　the　shape　of　Richard's　hands　and　in　the　bones　of　Richard's　face。　Had　he　forgotten　those　things？　No…but　for　a　moment　his　bitter　disappointment　in　Richard　had　covered　them　up。　And　his　increasing　nervousness　had　played　a　part。　The　Talisman　was　very；　very　close　now；　and　he　felt　it　in　his　nerve…endings　the　way　a　horse　smells　water　in　the　desert　or　a　distant　grass…fire　in　the　plains。　That　nerviness　was　ing　out　in　a　kind　of　prancy　skittishness。
　　Yeah；　well；　this　guy's　supposed　to　be　your　best　buddy；　Jack…O…get　a　little　funky　if　you　have　to；　but　don't　trample　Richard。　The　kid's　sick；　just　in　case　you　hadn't　noticed。
　　He　reached　for　Richard。　Richard　tried　to　push　him　away。　Jack　was　having　none　of　that。　He　held　Richard。　The　two　of　them　stood　that　way　in　the　middle　of　the　deserted　railroad　bed　for　a　while；　Richard's　head　on　Jack's　shoulder。
　　'Listen；'　Jack　said　awkwardly；　'try　not　to　worry　too　much　about　。　。　。　you　know　。　。　。　everything　。　。　。　just　yet；　Richard。　Just　kind　of　try　to　roll　with　the　changes；　you　know？'　Boy；　that　sounded　really　stupid。　Like　telling　somebody　they　had　cancer　but　don't　worry　because　pretty　soon　we're　going　to　put　Star　Wars　on　the　VCR　and　it'll　cheer　you　right　up。
　　'Sure；'　Richard　said。　He　pushed　away　from　Jack。　The　tears　had　cut　clean　tracks　on　his　dirty　face。　He　wiped　an　arm　across　his　eyes　and　tried　to　smile。　'A'　wi'　be　well　an'　a'　wi'　be　well…'
　　'An'　a'　manner　a'　things　wi'　be　well；'　Jack　chimed　in…they　finished　together；　then　laughed　together；　and　that　was　all　right。
　　'e　on；'　Richard　said。　'Let's　go。'
　　'Where？'
　　'To　get　your　Talisman；'　Richard　said。　'The　way　you're　talking；　it　must　be　in　Point　Venuti。　It's　the　next　town　up　the　line。　e　on；　Jack。　Let's　get　going。　But　walk　slow…I'm　not　done　talking　yet。'　
　　Jack　looked　at　him　curiously；　and　then　they　started　walking　again…but　slowly。
　　　
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　　Now　that　the　dam　had　broken　and　Richard　had　allowed　himself　to　begin　remembering　things；　he　was　an　unexpected　fountain　of　information。　Jack　began　to　feel　as　if　he　had　been　working　a　jigsaw　puzzle　without　knowing　that　several　of　the　most　important　pieces　were　missing。　It　was　Richard　who　had　had　most　of　those　pieces　all　along。　Richard　had　been　in　the　survivalist　camp　before；　that　was　the　first　piece。　His　father　had　owned　it。
　　'Are　you　sure　it　was　the　same　place；　Richard？'　Jack　asked　doubtfully。
　　'I'm　sure；'　Richard　said。　'It　even　looked　a　little　familiar　to　me　on　the　other　side；　there。　When　we　got　back　over　。　。　。　over　here　。　。　。　I　was　sure。'
　　Jack　nodded；　unsure　what　else　to　do。
　　'We　used　to　stay　in　Point　Venuti。　That's　where　we　always　stayed　before　we　came　here。　The　train　was　a　big　treat。　I　mean；　how　many　dads　have　their　own　private　train？'
　　'Not　many；'　Jack　said。　'I　guess　Diamond　Jim　Brady　and　some　of　those　guys　had　private　trains；　but　I　don't　know　if　they　were　dads　or　not。'
　　'Oh；　my　dad　wasn't　in　their　league；'　Richard　said；　laughing　a　little；　and　Jack　thought：　Richard；　you　might　be　surprised。
　　'We'd　drive　up　to　Point　Venuti　from　L。A。　in　a　rental　car。　There　was　a　motel　we　stayed　at。　Just　the　two　of　us。'　Richard　stopped。　His　eyes　had　gone　misty　with　love　and　remembering。　'Then…after　we　hung　out　there　for　a　while…we'd　take　my　dad's　train　up　to　Camp　Readiness。　It　was　just　a　little　train。'　He　looked　at　Jack；　startled。　'Like　the　one　we　came　on；　I　guess。'
　　'Camp　Readiness？'　
　　But　Richard　appeared　not　to　have　heard　him。　He　was　looking　at　the　rusted　tracks。　They　were　whole　here；　but　Jack　thought　Richard　might　be　remembering　the　twisted　ripples　they　had　passed　some　way　back。　In　a　couple　of　places　the　ends　of　rail…sections　actually　curved　up　into　the　air；　like　broken　guitar…strings。　Jack　guessed　that　in　the　Territories　those　tracks　would　be　in　fine　shape；　neatly　and　lovingly　maintained。
　　'See；　there　used　to　be　a　trolley　line　here；'　Richard　said。　'This　was　back　in　the　thirties；　my　father　said。　The　Mendocino　County　Red　Line。　Only　it　wasn't　owned　by　the　county；　it　was　owned　by　a　private　pany；　and　they　went　broke；　because　in　California　。　。　。　you　know　。　。　。'　
　　Jack　nodded。　In　California；　everyone　used　cars。　'Richard；　why　didn't　you　ever　tell　me　about　this　place？'
　　'That　was　the　one　thing　my　dad　said　never　to　tell　you。　You　and　your　parents　knew　we　sometimes　took　vacations　in　northern　California　and　he　said　that　was　all　right；　but　I　wasn't　to　tell　you　about　the　train；　or　Camp　Readiness。　He　said　if　I　told；　Phil　would　be　mad　because　it　was　a　secret。'　
　　Richard　paused。
　　'He　said　if　I　told；　he'd　never　take　me　again。　I　thought　it　was　because　they　were　supposed　to　be　partners。　I　guess　it　was　more　than　that。
　　'The　trolley　line　went　broke　because　of　the　cars　and　the　freeways。'　He　paused　thoughtfully。　'That　was　one　thing　about　the　place　you　took　me　to；　Jack。　Weird　as　it　was；　it　didn't　stink　of　hydrocarbons。　I　could　get　into　that。'　
　　Jack　nodded　again；　saying　nothing。
　　'The　trolley　pany　finally　sold　the　whole　line…grandfather　clause　and　all…to　a　development　pany。　They　thought　people　would　start　to　move　inland；　too。　Except　it　didn't　happen。'
　　'Then　your　father　bought　it。'
　　'Yes；　I　guess　so。　I　don't　really　know。　He　never　talked　much　about　buying　the　line　。　。　。　or　how　he　replaced　the　trolley　tracks　with　these　railroad　tracks。'　
　　That　would　have　taken　a　lot　of　work；　Jack　thought；　and　then　he　thought　of　the　ore…pits；　and　Morgan　of　Orris's　apparently　unlimited　supply　of　slave　labor。
　　'I　know　he　replaced　them；　but　only　because　I　got　a　book　on　railroads　and　found　out　there's　a　difference　in　gauge。　Trolleys　run　on　ten…gauge　track。　This　is　sixteen…gauge。'　
　　Jack　knelt；　and　yes；　he　could　see　a　very　faint　double　indentation　inside　the　existing　tracks…that　was　where　the　trolley　tracks　had　been。
　　'He　had　a　little　red　train；'　Richard　said　dreamily。　'Just　an　engine　and　two　cars。　It　ran　on　diesel　fuel。　He　used　to　laugh　about　it　and　say　that　the　only　thing　that　separated　the　men　from　the　boys　was　the　price　of　their　toys。　There　was　an　old　trolley　station　on　the　hill　above　Point　Venuti；　and　we'd　go　up　there　in　the　rental　car　and　park