sk.thetalisman-第30部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


thers　showed　blank　brown　squares　of　cardboard。　Even　out　on　the　road；　Jack　could　smell　machine　oil；　grease；　smouldering　fanbelts；　and　clashing　gears。　He　put　his　hands　in　his　pockets　and　walked　downhill　as　quickly　as　he　could。
　　　
　　　5
　　
　　Seen　close　up；　the　town　was　even　more　depressed　than　it　had　looked　from　the　hill。　The　salesmen　at　the　car　lots　leaned　against　the　windows　in　their　offices；　too　bored　to　e　outside。　Their　pennants　hung　tattered　and　joyless；　the　once…optimistic　signs　propped　along　the　cracked　sidewalk　fronting　the　rows　of　cars…ONE　OWNER！　FANTASTIC　BUY！　CAR　OF　THE　WEEK！…had　yellowed。　The　ink　had　feathered　and　run　on　some　of　the　signs；　as　if　they　had　been　left　out　in　the　rain。　Very　few　people　moved　along　the　streets。　As　Jack　went　toward　the　center　of　town；　he　saw　an　old　man　with　sunken　cheeks　and　gray　skin　trying　to　wrestle　an　empty　shopping　cart　up　onto　a　curb。　When　he　approached；　the　old　man　screeched　something　hostile　and　frightened　and　bared　gums　as　black　as　a　badger's。　He　thought　Jack　was　going　to　steal　his　cart！　'Sorry；'　Jack　said；　his　heart　pounding　again。　The　old　man　was　trying　to　hug　the　whole　cumbersome　body　of　the　cart；　protecting　it；　all　the　while　showing　those　blackened　gums　to　his　enemy。　'Sorry；'　Jack　repeated。　'I　was　just　going　to　。　。　。　'
　　'Fusshhingfeef！　FusshhingFEEEFF！'　the　old　man　screeched；　and　tears　crawled　into　the　wrinkles　on　his　cheeks。
　　Jack　hurried　off。
　　
　　Twenty　years　before；　during　the　sixties；　Oatley　must　have　prospered。　The　relative　brightness　of　the　strip　of　Mill　Road　leading　out　of　town　was　the　product　of　that　era　when　stocks　went　go…go　and　gas　was　still　cheap　and　nobody　had　heard　the　term　'discretionary　ine'　because　they　had　plenty　of　it。　People　had　sunk　their　money　into　franchise　operations　and　little　shops　and　for　a　time　had；　if　not　actually　flourished；　held　their　heads　above　the　waves。　This　short　series　of　blocks　still　had　that　superficial　hopefulness…but　only　a　few　bored　teenagers　sat　in　the　franchise　restaurants；　nursing　medium　Cokes；　and　in　the　plate…glass　windows　of　too　many　of　the　little　shops　placards　as　faded　as　those　in　the　used…car　lots　announced　EVERYTHING　MUST　GO！　CLOSING　SALE。　Jack　saw　no　signs　advertising　for　help；　and　kept　on　walking。
　　Downtown　Oatley　showed　the　reality　beneath　the　happy　clown's　colors　left　behind　by　the　sixties。　As　Jack　trudged　along　these　blocks　of　baked…looking　brick　buildings；　his　pack　grew　heavier；　his　feet　more　tender。　He　would　have　walked　to　Dogtown　after　all；　if　it　were　not　for　his　feet　and　the　necessity　of　going　through　the　Mill　Road　tunnel　again。　Of　course　there　was　no　snarling　man…wolf　lurking　in　the　dark　there…he'd　worked　that　out　by　now。　No　one　could　have　spoken　to　him　in　the　tunnel。　The　Territories　had　shaken　him。　First　the　sight　of　the　Queen；　then　that　dead　boy　beneath　the　cart　with　half　his　face　gone。　Then　Morgan；　the　trees。　But　that　was　there；　where　such　things　could　be…were；　perhaps；　even　normal。　Here；　normality　did　not　admit　such　gaudiness。
　　He　was　before　a　long；　dirty　window　above　which　the　flaking　slogan　FURNITURE　DEPOSITORY　was　barely　legible　on　the　brickwork。　He　put　his　hands　to　his　eyes　and　stared　in。　A　couch　and　a　chair；　each　covered　by　a　white　sheet；　sat　fifteen　feet　apart　on　a　wide　wooden　floor。　Jack　moved　farther　down　the　block；　wondering　if　he　was　going　to　have　to　beg　for　food。
　　Four　men　sat　in　a　car　before　a　boarded…up　shop　a　little　way　down　the　block。　It　took　Jack　a　moment　to　see　that　the　car；　an　ancient　black　DeSoto　that　looked　as　though　Broderick　Craw…ford　should　e　bustling　out　of　it；　had　no　tires。　Taped　to　the　windshield　was　a　yellow　five…by…eight　card　which　read　FAIR　WEATHER　CLUB。　The　men　inside；　two　in　front　and　two　in　back；　were　playing　cards。　Jack　stepped　up　to　the　front　passenger　window。
　　'Excuse　me；'　he　said；　and　the　cardplayer　closest　to　him　rolled　a　fishy　gray　eye　toward　him。　'Do　you　know　where…'
　　'Get　lost；'　the　man　said。　His　voice　sounded　squashed　and　phlegmy；　unfamiliar　with　speech。　The　face　half…turned　to　Jack　was　deeply　pitted　with　acne　scars　and　oddly　flattened　out；　as　if　someone　had　stepped　on　it　when　the　man　was　an　infant。
　　'I　just　wondered　if　you　knew　somewhere　I　could　get　a　couple　days'　work。'
　　'Try　Texas；'　said　the　man　in　the　driver's　seat；　and　the　pair　in　the　back　seat　cracked　up；　spitting　beer　out　over　their　hands　of　cards。
　　'I　told　you；　kid；　get　lost；'　said　the　flat…faced　gray…eyed　man　closest　to　Jack。　'Or　I'll　personally　pound　the　shit　out　of　you。'　
　　It　was　just　the　truth；　Jack　understood…if　he　stayed　there　a　moment　longer；　this　man's　rage　would　boil　over　and　he　would　get　out　of　the　car　and　beat　him　senseless。　Then　the　man　would　get　back　in　the　car　and　open　another　beer。　Cans　of　Rolling　Rock　covered　the　floor；　the　opened　ones　tipped　every　which　way；　the　fresh　ones　linked　by　white　plastic　nooses。　Jack　stepped　backward；　and　the　fish…eye　rolled　away　from　him。　'Guess　I'll　try　Texas　after　all；'　he　said。　He　listened　for　the　sound　of　the　DeSoto's　door　creaking　open　as　he　walked　away；　but　all　he　heard　being　opened　was　another　Rolling　Rock。
　　Crack！　Hiss！
　　He　kept　moving。
　　He　got　to　the　end　of　the　block　and　found　himself　looking　across　the　town's　other　main　street　at　a　dying　lawn　filled　with　yellow　weeds　from　which　peeked　fiberglass　statues　of　Disney…like　fawns。　A　shapeless　old　woman　gripping　a　fly…swatter　stared　at　him　from　a　porch　swing。
　　Jack　turned　away　from　her　suspicious　gaze　and　saw　before　him　the　last　of　the　lifeless　brick　buildings　on　Mill　Road。　Three　concrete　steps　led　up　to　a　propped…open　screen　door。　A　long；　dark　window　contained　a　glowing　BUDWEISER　sign　and；　a　foot　to　the　right　of　that；　the　painted　legend　UPDIKE'S　OATLEY　TAP。　And　several　inches　beneath　that；　handwritten　on　a　yellow　five…by…eight　card　like　the　one　on　the　DeSoto；　were　the　miraculous　words　HELP　WANTED。　Jack　pulled　the　knapsack　off　his　back；　bunched　it　under　one　arm；　and　went　up　the　steps。　For　no　more　than　an　instant；　moving　from　the　tired　sunlight　into　the　darkness　of　the　bar；　he　was　reminded　of　stepping　past　the　thick　fringe　of　ivy　into　the　Mill　Road　tunnel。
　　
　　　CHAPTER　9
　　　Jack　in　the　Pitcher　Plant
　　　
　　　1
　　
　　Not　quite　sixty　hours　later　a　Jack　Sawyer　who　was　in　a　very　different　frame　of　mind　from　that　of　the　Jack　Sawyer　who　had　ventured　into　the　Oatley　tunnel　on　Wednesday　was　in　the　chilly　storeroom　of　the　Oatley　Tap；　hiding　his　pack　behind　the　kegs　of　Busch　which　sat　in　the　room's　far　corner　like　aluminum　bowling　pins　in　a　giant's　alley。　In　less　than　two　hours；　when　the　Tap　finally　shut　down　for　the　night；　Jack　meant　to　run　away。　That　he　should　even　think　of　it　in　such　a　fashion…not　leaving；　not　moving　on；　but　running　away…showed　how　desperate　he　now　believed　his　situation　to　be。
　　I　was　six；　six；　John　B。　Sawyer　was　six；　Jacky　was　six。　Six。
　　This　thought；　apparently　nonsensical；　had　fallen　into　his　mind　this　evening　and　had　begun　to　repeat　there。　He　supposed　it　went　a　long　way　toward　showing　just　how　scared　he　was　now；　how　certain　he　was　that　things　were　beginning　to　close　in　on　him。　He　had　no　idea　what　the　thought　meant；　it　just　circled　and　circled；　like　a　wooden　horse　bolted　to　a　carousel。
　　Six。　I　was　six。　Jacky　Sawyer　was　six。
　　Over　and　over；　round　and　round　she　goes。
　　The　storeroom　shared　a　wall　in　mon　with　the　taproom　itself；　and　tonight　that　wall　was　actually　vibrating　with　noise；　it　throbbed　like　a　drumhead。　Until　twenty　minutes　before；　it　had　been　Friday　night；　and　both　Oatley　Textiles　and　Weaving　and　Dogtown　Custom　Rubber　paid　on　Friday。　Now　the　Oatley　Tap　was　full　to　the　overflow　point　。　。　。　and　past。　A　big　poster　to　the　left　of　the　bar　read　OCCUPANCY　BY　MORE　THAN　220　PERSONS　IS　IN　VIOLATION　OF　GENESEE　COUNTY　FIRE　CODE　331。　Apparently　fire　code　331　was　suspended　on　the　weekends；　because　Jack　guessed　there　were　more　than　three　hundred　people　out　there　now；　boogying　away　to　a　country…western　band　which　called　itself　The　Genny　Valley　Boys。　It　was　a　terrible　band；　but　they　had　a　pedal…steel　guitar。　'There's　guys　around　here　that'd　fuck　a　pedal…steel；　Jack；'　Smokey　had　said。
　　'Jack！'　Lori　yelled　over　the　wall　of　sound。
　　Lori　was　Smokey's　woman。　Jack　still　didn't　know　what　her　last　name　was。　He　could　barely　hear　her　over　the　juke；　which　was　playing　at　full　volume　while　the　band　was　on　break。　All　five　of　them　were　standing　at　the　far　end　of　the　bar；　Jack　knew；　tanking　up　on　half…price　Black　Russians。　She　stuck　her　head　through　the　storeroom　door。　Tired　blond　hair；　held　back　with　childish　white　plastic　barrettes；　glittered　in　the　overhead　fluorescent。
　　'Jack；　if　you　don't　run　that　keg　out　real　quick；　I　guess　he'll　give　your　arm　a　try。'
　　'Okay；'　Jack　said。　'Tell　him　I'll　be　right　there。'　
　　He　felt　gooseflesh　on　his　arms；　and　it　didn't　e　entirely　from　the　storeroom's　damp　chill。　Smokey　Updike　was　no　one　to　fool　with…Smokey　who　wore　a　succession　of　paper　fry…cook's　hats　on　his　narrow　head；　Smokey　with　his　large　plastic　mail…order　dentures；　grisly　and　somehow　funereal　in　their　perfect　evenness；　Smokey　with　his　violent　brown　eyes；　the　scleras　an　ancient；　dirty　yellow。　Smokey　Updike　who　in　some　way　still　unknown　to　Jack…and　who　was　all　the　more　frightening　for　that…had　somehow　managed　to　take　him　prisoner。
　　The　jukebox　fell　temporarily　silent；　but　the　steady　roar　of　the　crowd　actually　seemed　to　go　up　a　notch　to　make　up　for　it。　Some　Lake　Ontario　cowboy　raised　his　voice　in　a　big；　drunken　'Yeeeee…HAW！'　A　woman　screamed。　A　glass　broke。　Then　the　jukebox　took　off　again；　sounding　a　little　like　a　Saturn　rocket　achieving　escape　velocity。
　　Sort　of　place　where　they　eat　what　they　run　over　on　the　road。
　　Raw。
　　Jack　bent　over　one　of　the　aluminum　kegs　and　dragged　it　out　about　three　feet；　his　mouth　screwed　down　in　a　painful　wince；　sweat　standing　out　on　his　forehead　in　spite　of　the　air…conditioned　chill；　his　back　protesting。　The　keg　gritted　and　squealed　on　the　unadorned　cement。　He　stopped；　breathing　hard；　his　ears　ringing。
　　He　wheeled　the　hand…truck　over　to　the　keg　of　Busch；　stood　it　up；　then　went　around　to　the　keg　again。　He　managed　to　rock　it　up　on　its　rim　and　walk　it　forward；　toward　where　the　hand…truck　stood。　As　he　was　setting　it　down　he　lost　control　of　it…the　big　bar…keg　weighed　only　a　few　pounds　less　tha