sk.thetalisman-第38部分

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　Elroy…thing　screaming　now；　but　the　scream　seemed　far　away；　as　if　it　were　on　one　end　of　the　Oatley　tunnel　and　he；　Jack；　were　falling　rapidly　toward　the　other　end。　And　this　time　there　was　a　sense　of　falling　and　he　thought：　Oh　my　God　what　if　I　just　flipped　my　stupid　self　over　a　cliff　or　off　a　mountain　over　there？
　　He　held　on　to　the　pack　and　the　bottle；　his　eyes　screwed　desperately　shut；　waiting　for　whatever　might　happen　next…Elroy…thing　or　no　Elroy…thing。　Territories　or　oblivion…and　the　thought　which　had　haunted　him　all　night　came　swinging　back　like　a　dancing　carousel　horse…Silver　Lady；　maybe　Ella　Speed。　He　caught　it　and　rode　it　down　in　a　cloud　of　the　magic　juice's　awful　smell；　holding　it；　waiting　for　whatever　would　happen　next；　feeling　his　clothes　change　on　his　body。
　　Six　oh　yes　when　we　were　all　six　and　nobody　was　anything　else　and　it　was　California　who　blows　that　sax　daddy　is　it　Dexter　Gordon　or　is　it　is　it　what　does　Mom　mean　when　she　says　we're　living　on　a　fault…line　and　where　where　oh　where　do　you　go　Daddy　you　and　Uncle　Morgan　oh　Daddy　sometimes　he　looks　at　you　like　like　oh　like　there　is　a　fault…line　in　his　head　and　an　earthquake　going　on　behind　his　eyes　and　you're　dying　in　it　oh　Daddy！
　　Falling；　twisting；　turning　in　the　middle　of　limbo；　in　the　middle　of　a　smell　like　a　purple　cloud；　Jack　Sawyer；　John　Benjamin　Sawyer；　Jacky；　Jacky
　　…was　six　when　it　started　to　happen；　and　who　blew　that　sax　Daddy？　Who　blew　it　when　I　was　six；　when　Jacky　was　six；　when　Jacky…
　　
　　　CHAPTER　11
　　　The　Death　of　Jerry　Bledsoe
　　　
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　　was　six　。　。　。　when　it　really　started；　Daddy；　when　the　engines　that　eventually　pulled　him　to　Oatley　and　beyond　began　to　chug　away。　There　had　been　loud　saxophone　music。　Six。　Jacky　was　six。　At　first　his　attention　had　been　entirely　on　the　toy　his　father　had　given　him；　a　scale　model　of　a　London　taxi…the　toy　car　was　heavy　as　a　brick；　and　on　the　smooth　wooden　floors　of　the　new　office　a　good　push　sent　it　rumbling　straight　across　the　room。　Late　afternoon；　first　grade　all　the　way　on　the　other　side　of　August；　a　neat　new　car　that　rolled　like　a　tank　on　the　strip　of　bare　wood　behind　the　couch；　a　contented；　relaxed　feeling　in　the　air…conditioned　office　。　。　。　no　more　work　to　do；　no　more　phone　calls　that　couldn't　wait　until　the　next　day。　Jack　pushed　the　heavy　toy　taxi　down　the　strip　of　bare　wood；　barely　able　to　hear　the　rumbling　of　the　solid　rubber　tires　under　the　soloing　of　a　saxophone。　The　black　car　struck　one　of　the　legs　of　the　couch；　spun　sideways；　and　stopped。　Jack　crawled　down　and　Uncle　Morgan　had　parked　himself　in　one　of　the　chairs　on　the　other　side　of　the　couch。　Each　man　nursed　a　drink；　soon　they　would　put　down　their　glasses；　switch　off　the　turntable　and　the　amplifier；　and　go　downstairs　to　their　cars。　
　　when　we　were　all　six　and　nobody　was　anything　else　and　it　was　California
　　'Who's　playing　that　sax？'　he　heard　Uncle　Morgan　ask；　and；　half　in　a　reverie；　heard　that　familiar　voice　in　a　new　way：　something　whispery　and　hidden　in　Morgan　Sloat's　voice　coiled　into　Jacky's　ear。　He　touched　the　top　of　the　toy　taxi　and　his　fingers　were　as　cold　as　if　it　were　of　ice；　not　English　steel。
　　'That's　Dexter　Gordon；　is　who　that　is；'　his　father　answered。　His　voice　was　as　lazy　and　friendly　as　it　always　was；　and　Jack　slipped　his　hand　around　the　heavy　taxi。
　　'Good　record。'
　　'Daddy　Plays　the　Horn。　It　is　a　nice　old　record；　isn't　it？'
　　'I'll　have　to　look　for　it。'　And　then　Jack　thought　he　knew　what　that　strangeness　in　Uncle　Morgan's　voice　was　all　about…Uncle　Morgan　didn't　really　like　jazz　at　all；　he　just　pretended　to　in　front　of　Jack's　father。　Jack　had　known　this　fact　about　Morgan　Sloat　for　most　of　his　childhood；　and　he　thought　it　was　silly　that　his　father　couldn't　see　it　too。　Uncle　Morgan　was　never　going　to　look　for　a　record　called　Daddy　Plays　the　Horn；　he　was　just　flattering　Phil　Sawyer…and　maybe　the　reason　Phil　Sawyer　didn't　see　it　was　that　like　everyone　else　he　never　paid　quite　enough　attention　to　Morgan　Sloat。　Uncle　Morgan；　smart　and　ambitious　（'smart　as　a　wolverine；　sneaky　as　a　courthouse　lawyer；'　Lily　said）；　good　old　Uncle　Morgan　deflected　observation…your　eye　just　sort　of　naturally　slid　off　him。　When　he　was　a　kid；　Jacky　would　have　bet；　his　teachers　would　have　had　trouble　even　remembering　his　name。
　　'Imagine　what　this　guy　would　be　like　over　there；'　Uncle　Morgan　said；　for　once　fully　claiming　Jack's　attention。　That　falsity　still　played　through　his　voice；　but　it　was　not　Sloat's　hypocrisy　that　jerked　up　Jacky's　head　and　tightened　his　fingers　on　his　heavy　toy…the　words　over　there　had　sailed　straight　into　his　brain　and　now　were　gonging　like　chimes。　Because　over　there　was　the　country　of　Jack's　Daydreams。　He　had　known　that　immediately。　His　father　and　Uncle　Morgan　had　forgotten　that　he　was　behind　the　couch；　and　they　were　going　to　talk　about　the　Daydreams。
　　His　father　knew　about　the　Daydream…country。　Jack　could　never　have　mentioned　the　Daydreams　to　either　his　father　or　his　mother；　but　his　father　knew　about　the　Daydreams　because　he　had　to…simple　as　that。　And　the　next　step；　felt　along　Jack's　emotions　more　than　consciously　expressed；　was　that　his　dad　helped　keep　the　Daydreams　safe。
　　But　for　some　reason；　equally　difficult　to　translate　from　emotion　into　language；　the　conjunction　of　Morgan　Sloat　and　the　Daydreams　made　the　boy　uneasy。
　　'Hey？'　Uncle　Morgan　said。　'This　guy　would　really　turn　em　around；　wouldn't　he？　They'd　probably　make　him　Duke　of　the　Blasted　Lands；　or　something。'
　　'Well；　probably　not　that；'　Phil　Sawyer　said。　'Not　if　they　liked　him　as　much　as　we　do。'
　　But　Uncle　Morgan　doesn't　like　him；　Dad；　Jacky　thought；　suddenly　clear　that　this　was　important。　He　doesn't　like　him　at　all；　not　really；　he　thinks　that　music　is　too　loud；　he　thinks　it　takes　something　from　him
　　'Oh；　you　know　a　lot　more　about　it　than　I　do；'　Uncle　Morgan　said　in　a　voice　that　sounded　easy　and　relaxed。
　　'Well；　I've　been　there　more　often。　But　you're　doing　a　good　job　of　catching　up。'　Jacky　heard　that　his　father　was　smiling。
　　'Oh；　I've　learned　a　few　things；　Phil。　But　really；　you　know…I'll　never　get　over　being　grateful　to　you　for　showing　all　that　to　me。'　The　two　syllables　of　grateful　filled　with　smoke　and　the　sound　of　breaking　glass。
　　But　all　of　these　little　warnings　could　not　do　more　than　dent　Jack's　intense；　almost　blissful　satisfaction。　They　were　talking　about　the　Daydreams。　It　was　magical；　that　such　a　thing　was　possible。　What　they　said　was　beyond　him；　their　terms　and　vocabulary　were　too　adult；　but　six…year…old　Jack　experienced　again　the　wonder　and　joy　of　the　Daydreams；　and　was　at　least　old　enough　to　understand　the　direction　of　their　conversation。　The　Daydreams　were　real；　and　Jacky　somehow　shared　them　with　his　father。　That　was　half　his　joy。
　　　
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　　'Let　me　just　get　some　things　straight；'　Uncle　Morgan　said；　and　Jacky　saw　the　word　straight　as　a　pair　of　lines　knotting　around　each　other　like　snakes。　'They　have　magic　like　we　have　physics；　right？　We're　talking　about　an　agrarian　monarchy；　using　magic　instead　of　science。'
　　'Sure；'　Phil　Sawyer　said。
　　'And　presumably　they've　gone　on　like　that　for　centuries。　Their　lives　have　never　changed　very　much。'
　　'Except　for　political　upheavals；　that's　right。'
　　Then　Uncle　Morgan's　voice　tightened；　and　the　excitement　he　tried　to　conceal　cracked　little　whips　within　his　consonants。　'Well；　forget　about　the　political　stuff。　Suppose　we　think　about　us　for　a　change。　You'll　say…and　I'd　agree　with　you；　Phil…that　we've　done　pretty　well　out　of　the　Territories　already；　and　that　we'd　have　to　be　careful　about　how　we　introduce　changes　there。　I　have　no　problems　at　all　with　that　position。　I　feel　the　same　way　myself。'　
　　Jacky　could　feel　his　father's　silence。
　　'Okay；'　Sloat　continued。　'Let's　go　with　the　concept　that；　within　a　situation　basically　advantageous　to　ourselves；　we　can　spread　the　benefits　around　to　anybody　on　our　side。　We　don't　sacrifice　the　advantage；　but　we're　not　greedy　about　the　bounty　it　brings。　We　owe　these　people；　Phil。　Look　what　they've　done　for　us。　I　think　we　could　put　ourselves　into　a　really　synergistic　situation　over　there。　Our　energy　can　feed　their　energy　and　e　up　with　stuff　we've　never　even　thought　of；　Phil。　And　we　end　up　looking　generous；　which　we　are…but　which　also　doesn't　hurt　us。'　He　would　be　frowning　forward；　the　palms　of　his　hands　pressed　together。　'Of　course　I　don't　have　a　total　window　on　this　situation；　you　know　that；　but　I　think　the　synergy　alone　is　worth　the　price　of　admission；　to　tell　you　the　truth。　But　Phil…can　you　imagine　how　much　fucking　clout　we'd　swing　if　we　gave　them　electricity？　If　we　got　modern　weapons　to　the　right　guys　over　there？　Do　you　have　any　idea？　I　think　it'd　be　awesome。　Awesome。'　The　damp；　squashy　sound　of　his　clapping　hands。　'I　don't　want　to　catch　you　unprepared　or　anything；　but　I　thought　it　might　be　time　for　us　to　think　along　those　lines…to　think；　Territories…wise；　about　increasing　our　involvement。'　
　　Phil　Sawyer　still　said　nothing。　Uncle　Morgan　slapped　his　hands　together　again。　Finally　Phil　Sawyer　said；　in　a　nonmittal　voice；　'You　want　to　think　about　increasing　our　involvement。'
　　'I　think　it's　the　way　to　go。　And　I　can　give　you　chapter　and　verse；　Phil；　but　I　shouldn't　have　to。　You　can　probably　remember　as　well　I　can　what　it　was　like　before　we　started　going　there　together。　Hey；　maybe　we　could　have　made　it　all　on　our　own；　and　maybe　we　would　have；　but　as　for　me；　I'm　grateful　not　to　be　representing　a　couple　of　broken…down　strippers　and　Little　Timmy　Tiptoe　anymore。'
　　'Hold　on；'　Jack's　father　said。
　　'Airplanes；'　Uncle　Morgan　said。　'Think　airplanes。'
　　'Hold　on；　hold　on　there；　Morgan；　I　have　a　lot　of　ideas　that　apparently　have　yet　to　occur　to　you。'
　　'I'm　always　ready　for　new　ideas；'　Morgan　said；　and　his　voice　was　smoky　again。
　　'Okay。　I　think　we　have　to　be　careful　about　what　we　do　over　there；　partner。　I　think　anything　major…any　real　changes　we　bring　about…just　might　turn　around　and　bite　our　asses　back　here。　Everything　has　consequences；　and　some　of　those　consequences　might　be　on　the　unfortable　side。'
　　'Like　what？'　Uncle　Morgan　asked。
　　'Like　war。'
　　'That's　nuts；　Phil。　We've　never　seen　anything　。　。　。　unless　you　mean　Bledsoe　。　。　。　'
　　'I　do　mean　Bledsoe。　Was　that　a　coincidence？'　
　　Bledsoe？　J