sk.thetalisman-第128部分

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s　body：
　　WELL　DONE！　JASON！　TO　ME！　E　TO　ME！
　　With　Richard　in　his　arms；　Jack　stepped　into　the　dining　room　of　the　black　hotel。
　　　
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　　As　he　crossed　the　threshold；　he　felt　an　inanimate　force…something　like　a　dead　hand…try　to　shove　him　back　out。　Jack　pushed　against　it；　and　a　second　or　two　later；　that　feeling　of　being　repelled　ceased。
　　The　room　was　not　particularly　dark…but　the　soaped　windows　gave　it　a　monochrome　whiteness　Jack　did　not　like。　He　felt　fogged　in；　blind。　Here　were　yellow　smells　of　decay　inside　walls　where　the　plaster　was　slowly　turning　to　a　vile　soup：　the　smells　of　empty　age　and　sour　darkness。　But　there　was　more　here；　and　Jack　knew　it　and　feared　it。
　　Because　this　place　was　not　empty。
　　Exactly　what　manner　of　things　might　be　here　he　did　not　know…but　he　knew　that　Sloat　had　never　dared　to　e　in；　and　he　guessed　that　no　one　else　would；　either。　The　air　was　heavy　and　unpleasant　in　his　lungs；　as　if　filled　with　a　slow　poison。　He　felt　the　strange　levels　and　canted　passageways　and　secret　rooms　and　dead　ends　above　him　pressing　down　like　the　walls　of　a　great　and　plex　crypt。　There　was　madness　here；　and　walking　death；　and　gibbering　irrationality。　Jack　might　not　have　had　the　words　to　express　these　things；　but　he　felt　them；　all　the　same　。　。　。　he　knew　them　for　what　they　were。　Just　as　he　knew　that　all　the　Talismans　in　the　cosmos　could　not　protect　him　from　those　things。　He　had　entered　a　strange；　dancing　ritual　whose　conclusion；　he　felt；　was　not　at　all　pre…ordained。
　　He　was　on　his　own。
　　Something　tickled　against　the　back　of　his　neck。　Jack　swept　his　hand　at　it　and　skittered　to　one　side。　Richard　moaned　thickly　in　his　arms。
　　It　was　a　large　black　spider　hanging　on　a　thread。　Jack　looked　up　and　saw　its　web　in　one　of　the　stilled　overhead　fans；　tangled　in　a　dirty　snarl　between　the　hardwood　blades。　The　spider's　body　was　bloated。　Jack　could　see　its　eyes。　He　couldn't　remember　ever　having　seen　a　spider's　eyes　before。　Jack　began　to　edge　around　the　hanging　spider　toward　the　tables。　The　spider　turned　at　the　end　of　its　thread；　following　him。
　　'Fushing　feef！'　it　suddenly　squealed　at　him。
　　Jack　screamed　and　clutched　Richard　against　him　with　panicky；　galvanic　force。　His　scream　echoed　across　the　high…ceilinged　dining　room。　Somewhere　in　the　shadows　beyond；　there　was　a　hollow　metallic　clank；　and　something　laughed。
　　'Fushing　feef；　fushing　FEEF！'　the　spider　squealed；　and　then　suddenly　it　scuttled　back　up　into　its　web　below　the　scrolled　tin　ceiling。
　　Heart　thumping；　Jack　crossed　the　dining　room　and　put　Richard　on　one　of　the　tables。　The　boy　moaned　again；　very　faintly。　Jack　could　feel　the　twisted　bumps　under　Richard's　clothes。
　　'Got　to　leave　you　for　a　little　while；　buddy；'　Jack　said。　
　　From　the　shadows　high　above：　'。　。　。　I'll　take　。　。　。　take　good　。　。　。　good　care　of　him　you　fushing　。　。　。　fushing　feef　。　。　。'　There　was　a　dark；　buzzing　little　giggle。
　　There　was　a　pile　of　linen　underneath　the　table　where　Jack　had　laid　Richard　down。　The　top　two　or　three　tablecloths　were　slimy　with　mildew；　but　halfway　through　the　pile　he　found　one　that　wasn't　too　bad。　He　spread　it　out　and　covered　Richard　with　it　to　the　neck。　He　started　away。
　　The　voice　of　the　spider　whispered　thinly　down　from　the　angle　of　the　fan…blades；　down　from　a　darkness　that　stank　of　decaying　flies　and　silk…wrapped　wasps。　'。　。　。　I'll　take　care　of　him；　you　fushing　feef　。　。　。'　
　　Jack　looked　up；　cold；　but　he　couldn't　see　the　spider。　He　could　imagine　those　cold　little　eyes；　but　imagination　was　all　it　was。　A　tormenting；　sickening　picture　came　to　him：　that　spider　scuttling　onto　Richard's　face；　burrowing　its　way　between　Richard's　slack　lips　and　into　Richard's　mouth；　crooning　all　the　while　fushing　feef；　fushing　feef；　fushing　feef　。　。　。
　　He　thought　of　pulling　the　tablecloth　up　over　Richard's　mouth　as　well；　and　discovered　he　could　not　bring　himself　to　turn　Richard　into　something　that　would　look　so　much　like　a　corpse…it　was　almost　like　an　invitation。
　　He　went　back　to　Richard　and　stood　there；　indecisive；　knowing　that　his　very　indecision　must　make　whatever　forces　there　were　here　very　happy　indeed…anything　to　keep　him　away　from　the　Talisman。
　　He　reached　into　his　pocket　and　came　out　with　the　large　dark　green　marble。　The　magic　mirror　in　the　other　world。　Jack　had　no　reason　to　believe　it　contained　any　special　power　against　evil　forces；　but　it　came　from　the　Territories　。　。　。　and；　Blasted　Lands　aside；　the　Territories　were　innately　good。　And　innate　goodness；　Jack　reasoned；　must　have　its　own　power　over　evil。
　　He　folded　the　marble　into　Richard's　hand。　Richard's　hand　closed；　then　fell　slowly　open　again　as　soon　as　Jack　removed　his　own　hand。
　　From　somewhere　overhead；　the　spider　chuffed　dirty　laughter。
　　Jack　bent　low　over　Richard；　trying　to　ignore　the　smell　of　disease…so　like　the　smell　of　this　place…and　murmured；　'Hold　it　in　your　hand；　Richie。　Hold　it　tight；　chum。'
　　'Don't　。　。　。　chum；'　Richard　muttered；　but　his　hand　closed　weakly　on　the　marble。
　　'Thanks；　Richie…boy；'　Jack　said。　He　kissed　Richard's　cheek　gently　and　then　started　across　the　dining　room　toward　the　closed　double　doors　at　the　far　end。　It's　like　the　Alhambra；　he　thought。　Dining　room　giving　on　the　gardens　there；　dining　room　giving　on　a　deck　over　the　water　here。　Double　doors　in　both　places；　opening　on　the　rest　of　the　hotel。
　　As　he　crossed　the　room；　he　felt　that　dead　hand　pushing　against　him　again…it　was　the　hotel　repelling　him；　trying　to　push　him　back　out。
　　Forget　it；　Jack　thought；　and　kept　going。　
　　The　force　seemed　to　fade　almost　at　once。
　　We　have　other　ways；　the　double　doors　whispered　as　he　approached　them。　Again；　Jack　heard　the　dim；　hollow　clank　of　metal。
　　You're　worried　about　Sloat；　the　double　doors　whispered；　only　now　it　wasn't　just　them…now　the　voice　Jack　was　hearing　was　the　voice　of　the　entire　hotel。　You're　worried　about　Sloat；　and　bad　Wolfs；　and　things　that　look　like　goats；　and　basketball　coaches　who　aren't　really　basketball　coaches；　you're　worried　about　guns　and　plastic　explosive　and　magic　keys。　We　in　here　don't　worry　about　any　of　those　things；　little　one。　They　are　nothing　to　us。　Morgan　Sloat　is　no　more　than　a　scurrying　ant。　He　has　only　twenty　years　to　live；　and　that　is　less　than　the　space　between　breaths　to　us。　We　in　the　Black　Hotel　care　only　for　the　Talisman…the　nexus　of　all　possible　worlds。　You've　e　as　a　burglar　to　rob　us　of　what　is　ours；　and　we　tell　you　once　more：　we　have　other　ways　of　dealing　with　fushing　feeves　like　you。　And　if　you　persist；　you'll　find　out　what　they　are…you'll　find　out　for　yourself。
　　　
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　　Jack　pushed　open　first　one　of　the　double　doors；　then　the　other。　The　casters　squealed　unpleasantly　as　they　rolled　along　their　recessed　tracks　for　the　first　time　in　years。
　　Beyond　the　doors　was　a　dark　hallway。　That'll　go　to　the　lobby；　Jack　thought。　And　then；　if　this　place　really　is　the　same　as　the　Alhambra；　I'll　have　to　go　up　the　main　staircase　one　flight。
　　On　the　second　floor　he　would　find　the　grand　ballroom。　And　in　the　grand　ballroom；　he　would　find　the　thing　he　had　e　for。
　　Jack　took　one　look　back；　saw　that　Richard　hadn't　moved；　and　stepped　into　the　hallway。　He　closed　the　doors　behind　him。
　　He　began　to　move　slowly　along　the　corridor；　his　frayed　and　dirty　sneakers　whispering　over　the　rotting　carpet。
　　A　little　farther　down；　Jack　could　see　another　set　of　double　doors；　with　birds　painted　on　them。
　　Closer　by　were　a　number　of　meeting…rooms。　Here　was　the　Golden　State　Room；　directly　opposite　the　Forty…Niner　Room。　Five　paces　farther　up　toward　the　double　doors　with　the　painted　birds　was　the　Mendocino　Room　（hacked　into　a　lower　panel　of　the　mahogany　door：　YOUR　MOTHER　DIED　SCREAMING！）。　Far　down　the　corridor…impossibly　far！…was　watery　light。　The　lobby。
　　Clank。
　　Jack　wheeled　around　fast；　and　caught　a　glimmer　of　movement　just　beyond　one　of　the　peaked　doorways　in　the　stone　throat　of　this　corridor…
　　（？stones？）　（？peaked　doorways？）
　　Jack　blinked　uneasily。　The　corridor　was　lined　with　dark　mahogany　panelling　which　had　now　begun　to　rot　in　the　oceanside　damp。　No　stone。　And　the　doors　giving　on　the　Golden　State　Room　and　the　Forty…Niner　Room　and　the　Mendocino　Room　were　just　doors；　sensibly　rectangular　and　with　no　peaks。　Yet　for　one　moment　he　had　seemed　to　see　openings　like　modified　cathedral　arches。　Filling　these　openings　had　been　iron　drop…gates…the　sort　that　could　be　raised　or　lowered　by　turning　a　windlass。　Drop…gates　with　hungry…looking　iron　spikes　at　the　bottom。　When　the　gate　was　lowered　to　block　the　entrance；　the　spikes　fitted　neatly　into　holes　in　the　floor。
　　No　stone　archways；　Jack…O。　See　for　yourself。　Just　doorways。　You　saw　drop…gates　like　that　in　the　Tower　of　London；　on　that　tour　you　went　on　with　Mom　and　Uncle　Tommy；　three　years　ago。　You're　just　freaking　a　little；　that's　all　。　。　。
　　But　the　feeling　in　the　pit　of　his　stomach　was　unmistakable。
　　They　were　there；　all　right。　I　flipped…for　just　a　second　I　was　in　the　Territories。
　　Clank。
　　Jack　whirled　back　the　other　way；　sweat　breaking　out　on　his　cheeks　and　forehead；　hair　beginning　to　stiffen　on　the　nape　of　his　neck。
　　He　saw　it　again…a　flash　of　something　metallic　in　the　shadows　of　one　of　those　rooms。　He　saw　huge　stones　as　black　as　sin；　their　rough　surfaces　splotched　with　green　moss。　Nasty；　soft…looking　albino　bugs　squirmed　in　and　out　of　the　large　pores　of　the　decaying　mortar　between　the　stones。　Empty　sconces　stood　at　fifteen…　or　twenty…foot　intervals。　The　torches　that　the　sconces　had　once　held　were　long　since　gone。
　　Clank。
　　This　time　he　didn't　even　blink。　The　world　sideslipped　before　his　eyes；　wavering　like　an　object　seen　through　clear　running　water。　The　walls　were　blackish　mahogany　again　instead　of　stone　blocks。　The　doors　were　doors　and　not　latticed…iron　drop…gates。　The　two　worlds；　which　had　been　separated　by　a　membrane　as　thin　as　a　lady's　silk　stocking；　had　now　actually　begun　to　overlap。
　　And；　Jack　realized　dimly；　his　Jason…side　had　begun　to　overlap　with　his　Jack…side…some　third　being　which　was　an　amalgamation　of　both　was　emerging。
　　I　don't　know　what　that　bination　is；　exactly；　but　I　hope　it's　strong…because　there　are　things　behind　those　doors　。　。　。　behind　all　of　them。
　　Jack　began　to　sidle　up　the　hallway　again　toward　the　lobby。
　　Cl