sk.thetalisman-第29部分

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d　steal　your　own　car？　As　soon　as　we　could；　we　were　going　to　start　making　the　payments　again。　I　mean；　wouldn't　you　call　that　stealing？'
　　'If　it　happened　to　me；　I　suppose　I　would；'　the　man　said。　'Well；　I　hope　your　mother　gets　better　in　a　hurry。'
　　'You　and　me　both；'　Jack　said　with　perfect　honesty。
　　And　that　held　them　until　the　signs　for　the　Oatley　exit　began　to　appear。　The　salesman　pulled　back　into　the　breakdown　lane　just　after　the　exit　ramp；　smiled　again　at　Jack　and　said；　'Good　luck；　kid。'　
　　Jack　nodded　and　opened　the　door。
　　'I　hope　you　don't　have　to　spend　much　time　in　Oatley；　anyhow。'　
　　Jack　looked　at　him　questioningly。
　　'Well；　you　know　the　place；　don't　you？'
　　'A　little。　Not　really。'
　　'Ah；　it's　a　real　pit。　Sort　of　place　where　they　eat　what　they　run　over　on　the　road。　Gorillaville。　You　eat　the　beer；　then　you　drink　the　glass。　Like　that。'
　　'Thanks　for　the　warning；'　Jack　said　and　got　out　of　the　car。　The　salesman　waved　and　dropped　the　Fairlane　into　drive。　In　moments　it　was　only　a　dark　shape　speeding　toward　the　low　orange　sun。
　　　
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　　For　a　mile　or　so　the　road　took　him　through　flat　dull　countryside…far　off；　Jack　saw　small　two…story　frame　houses　perched　on　the　edges　of　fields。　The　fields　were　brown　and　bare；　and　the　houses　were　not　farmhouses。　Widely　separated；　the　houses　overlooking　the　desolate　fields　existed　in　a　gray　moveless　quiet　broken　only　by　the　whine　of　traffic　moving　along　I…90。　No　cows　lowed；　no　horses　whinnied…there　were　no　animals；　and　no　farm　equipment。　Outside　one　of　the　little　houses　squatted　half　a　dozen　junked　and　rusting　cars。　These　were　the　houses　of　men　who　disliked　their　own　species　so　thoroughly　that　even　Oatley　was　too　crowded　for　them。　The　empty　fields　gave　them　the　moats　they　needed　around　their　peeling　frame　castles。
　　At　length　he　came　to　a　crossroads。　It　looked　like　a　crossroads　in　a　cartoon；　two　narrow　empty　roads　bisecting　each　other　in　an　absolute　nowhere；　then　stretching　on　toward　another　kind　of　nowhere。　Jack　had　begun　to　feel　insecure　about　his　sense　of　direction；　and　he　adjusted　the　pack　on　his　back　and　moved　up　toward　the　tall　rusted　iron　pipe　supporting　the　black　rectangles；　themselves　rusting；　of　the　street　names。　Should　he　have　turned　left　instead　of　right　off　the　exit　ramp？　The　sign　pointing　down　the　road　running　parallel　to　the　highway　read　DOGTOWN　ROAD。　Dogtown？　Jack　looked　down　this　road　and　saw　only　endless　flatness；　fields　full　of　weeds　and　the　black　streak　of　asphalt　rolling　on。　His　own　particular　streak　of　asphalt　was　called　MILL　ROAD；　according　to　the　sign。　About　a　mile　ahead　it　slipped　into　a　tunnel　nearly　overgrown　by　leaning　trees　and　an　oddly　pubic　mat　of　ivy。　A　white　sign　hung　in　the　thickness　of　ivy；　seemingly　supported　by　it。　The　words　were　too　small　to　be　read。　Jack　put　his　right　hand　in　his　pocket　and　clutched　the　coin　Captain　Farren　had　given　him。
　　His　stomach　talked　to　him。　He　was　going　to　need　dinner　soon；　so　he　had　to　move　off　this　spot　and　find　a　town　where　he　could　earn　his　meals。　Mill　Road　it　was…at　least　he　could　go　far　enough　to　see　what　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　tunnel。　Jack　pushed　himself　toward　it；　and　the　dark　opening　in　the　bank　of　trees　enlarged　with　every　step。
　　Cool　and　damp　and　smelling　of　brick　dust　and　overturned　earth；　the　tunnel　seemed　to　take　the　boy　in　and　then　tighten　down　around　him。　For　a　moment　Jack　feared　that　he　was　being　led　underground…no　circle　of　light　ahead　showed　the　tunnel's　end…but　then　realized　that　the　asphalt　floor　was　level。　TURN　ON　LIGHTS；　the　sign　outside　the　tunnel　had　read。　Jack　bumped　into　a　brick　wall　and　felt　grainy　powder　crumble　onto　his　hands。　'Lights；'　he　said　to　himself；　wishing　he　had　one　to　turn　on。　The　tunnel　must；　he　realized；　bend　somewhere　along　its　length。　He　had　cautiously；　slowly；　carefully；　walked　straight　into　the　wall；　like　a　blind　man　with　his　hands　extended。　Jack　groped　his　way　along　the　wall。　When　the　coyote　in　the　Roadrunner　cartoons　did　something　like　this；　he　usually　wound　up　splashed　across　the　front　of　a　truck。
　　Something　rattled　busily　along　the　floor　of　the　tunnel；　and　Jack　froze。
　　A　rat；　he　thought。　Maybe　a　rabbit　out　taking　a　shortcut　between　fields。　But　it　had　sounded　bigger　than　that。
　　He　heard　it　again；　farther　away　in　the　dark；　and　took　another　blind　step　forward。　Ahead　of　him；　just　once；　he　heard　an　intake　of　breath。　And　stopped；　wondering：　Was　that　an　animal？　Jack　held　his　fingertips　against　the　damp　brick　wall；　waiting　for　the　exhalation。　It　had　not　sounded　like　an　animal…certainly　no　rat　or　rabbit　inhaled　so　deeply。　He　crept　a　few　inches　forward；　almost　unwilling　to　admit　to　himself　that　whatever　was　up　there　had　frightened　him。
　　Jack　froze　again；　hearing　a　quiet　little　sound　like　a　raspy　chuckle　e　out　of　the　blackness　before　him。　In　the　next　second　a　familiar　but　unidentifiable　smell；　coarse；　strong；　and　musky；　drifted　toward　him　out　of　the　tunnel。
　　Jack　looked　back　over　his　shoulder。　The　entrance　was　now　only　half…visible；　half…obscured　by　the　curve　of　the　wall；　a　long　way　off　and　looking　about　the　size　of　a　rabbit…hole。
　　'What's　in　here？'　he　called　out。　'Hey！　Anything　in　here　with　me？　Anybody？'　
　　He　thought　he　heard　something　whisper　deeper　into　the　tunnel。
　　He　was　not　in　the　Territories；　he　reminded　himself…at　the　worst　he　might　have　startled　some　imbecilic　dog　who　had　e　into　the　cool　dark　for　a　nap。　In　that　case；　he'd　be　saving　its　life　by　waking　it　up　before　a　car　came　along。　'Hey；　dog！'　he　yelled。　'Dog！'　
　　And　was　rewarded　instantly　by　the　sound　of　paws　trotting　through　the　tunnel。　But　were　they　。　。　。　going　out　or　ing　in？　He　could　not　tell；　listening　to　the　soft　pad　pad　pad；　whether　the　animal　was　leaving　or　approaching。　Then　it　occurred　to　him　that　maybe　the　noise　was　ing　toward　him　from　behind；　and　he　twisted　his　neck　and　looked　back　and　saw　that　he　had　moved　far　enough　along　so　that　he　could　not　see　that　entrance；　either。
　　'Where　are　you；　dog？'　he　said。
　　Something　scratched　the　ground　only　a　foot　or　two　behind　him；　and　Jack　jumped　forward　and　struck　his　shoulder；　hard；　against　the　curve　of　the　wall。
　　He　sensed　a　shape…doglike；　perhaps…in　the　darkness。　Jack　stepped　forward…and　was　stopped　short　by　a　sense　of　dislocation　so　great　that　he　imagined　himself　back　in　the　Territories。　The　tunnel　was　filled　with　that　musky；　acrid　zoo…odor；　and　whatever　was　ing　toward　him　was　not　a　dog。
　　A　gust　of　cold　air　smelling　of　grease　and　alcohol　pushed　toward　him。　He　sensed　that　shape　getting　nearer。
　　Only　for　an　instant　he　had　a　glimpse　of　a　face　hanging　in　the　dark；　glowing　as　if　with　its　own　sick　and　fading　interior　light；　a　long；　bitter　face　that　should　have　been　almost　youthful　but　was　not。　Sweat；　grease；　a　stink　of　alcohol　on　the　breath　that　came　from　it。　Jack　flattened　himself　against　the　wall；　raising　his　fists；　even　as　the　face　faded　back　into　the　dark。
　　In　the　midst　of　his　terror　he　thought　he　heard　footfalls　softly；　quickly　covering　the　ground　toward　the　tunnel's　entrance；　and　turned　his　face　from　the　square　foot　of　darkness　which　had　spoken　to　him　to　look　back。　Darkness；　silence。　The　tunnel　was　empty　now。　Jack　squeezed　his　hands　under　his　armpits　and　gently　fell　back　against　the　brick；　taking　the　blow　on　his　knapsack。　A　moment　later　he　began　to　edge　forward　again。
　　As　soon　as　Jack　was　out　of　the　tunnel；　he　turned　around　to　face　it。　No　sounds　emerged；　no　weird　creatures　slunk　toward　him。　He　took　three　steps　forward；　peered　in。　And　then　his　heart　nearly　stopped；　because　ing　toward　him　were　two　huge　orange　eyes。　They　halved　the　distance　between　themselves　and　Jack　in　seconds。　He　could　not　move…his　feet　were　past　the　ankles　in　asphalt。　Finally　he　managed　to　extend　his　hands；　palm…out；　in　the　instinctive　gesture　of　warding…off。　The　eyes　continued　toward　him；　and　a　horn　blasted。　Seconds　before　the　car　burst　out　of　the　tunnel；　revealing　a　red…faced　man　waving　a　fist；　Jack　threw　himself　out　of　the　way。
　　'SHIIITHEEAAA　。　。　。　'　came　from　the　contorted　mouth。　Still　dazed；　Jack　turned　and　watched　the　car　speed　downhill　toward　a　village　that　had　to　be　Oatley。
　　　
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　　Situated　in　a　long　depression　in　the　land；　Oatley　spread　itself　out　meagerly　from　two　principal　streets。　One；　the　continuation　of　Mill　Road；　dipped　past　an　immense　and　shabby　building　set　in　the　midst　of　a　vast　parking　lot…a　factory；　Jack　thought…to　bee　a　strip　of　used…car　lots　（sagging　pennants）；　fast…food　franchises　（The　Great　Tits　of　America）；　a　bowling　alley　with　a　huge　neon　sign　（BOWL…A…RAMA！）；　grocery　stores；　gas　stations。　Past　all　this；　Mill　Road　became　Oatley's　five　or　six　blocks　of　downtown；　a　strip　of　old　two…story　buildings　before　which　cars　were　parked　nose…in。　The　other　street　was　obviously　the　location　of　Oatley's　most　important　houses…large　frame　buildings　with　porches　and　long　slanting　lawns。　Where　these　streets　intersected　stood　a　traffic　light　winking　its　red　eye　in　the　late　afternoon。　Another　light　perhaps　eight　blocks　down　changed　to　green　before　a　high　dingy　many…windowed　building　that　looked　like　a　mental　hospital；　and　so　was　probably　the　high　school。　Fanning　out　from　the　two　streets　was　a　jumble　of　little　houses　interspersed　with　anonymous　buildings　fenced　in　behind　tall　wire　mesh。
　　Many　of　the　windows　in　the　factory　were　broken；　and　some　of　the　windows　in　the　strip　of　downtown　had　been　boarded　over。　Heaps　of　garbage　and　fluttering　papers　littered　the　fenced…in　concrete　yards。　Even　the　important　houses　seemed　neglected；　with　their　sagging　porches　and　bleached…out　paint　jobs。　These　people　would　own　the　used…car　lots　filled　with　unsaleable　automobiles。
　　For　a　moment　Jack　considered　turning　his　back　on　Oatley　and　making　the　hike　to　Dogtown；　wherever　that　was。　But　that　would　mean　walking　through　the　Mill　Road　tunnel　again。　From　down　in　the　middle　of　the　shopping　district　a　car　horn　blatted；　and　the　sound　unfurled　toward　Jack　full　of　an　inexpressible　loneliness　and　nostalgia。
　　He　could　not　relax　until　he　was　all　the　way　to　the　gates　of　the　factory；　the　Mill　Road　tunnel　far　up　behind　him。　Nearly　a　third　of　the　windows　along　the　dirty…brick　facade　had　been　broken　in；　and　many　of　the　others　showed　blank　brown　squares　of　cardboard。　Even　out　on　the　road；　Jack　could　smell　machine　oil；　g