sk.thetalisman-第48部分

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uddy　Parkins　looked　once　more　at　the　empty　place　on　the　road　where　the　boy　had　been；　and　then　stamped　on　his　clutch　and　dropped　the　old　car　into　low。
　　　
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　　Buddy　Parkins's　memory　was　more　accurate　than　he　imagined。　If　he　could　have　seen　the　first　page　of　the　month…old　Angola　Herald　'Lewis　Farren；'　that　enigmatic　boy；　had　been　holding　so　protectively　yet　fearfully　beneath　his　arm；　these　are　the　words　he　would　have　read：
　　
　　FREAK　EARTHQUAKE　KILLS　5
　　by　Herald　staff　reporter　Joseph　Gargan
　　
　　Work　on　the　Rainbird　Towers；　intended　to　be　Angola's　tallest　and　most　luxurious　condominium　development　and　still　six　months　from　pletion；　was　tragically　halted　yesterday　as　an　unprecedented　earth　tremor　collapsed　the　structure　of　the　building；　burying　many　construction　workers　beneath　the　rubble。　Five　bodies　have　been　retrieved　from　the　ruins　of　the　proposed　condominium；　and　two　other　workers　have　not　yet　been　found　but　are　presumed　dead。　All　seven　workers　were　welders　and　fitters　in　the　employ　of　Speiser　Construction；　and　all　were　on　the　girders　of　the　building's　top　two　floors　at　the　time　of　the　incident。
　　Yesterday's　tremor　was　the　first　earthquake　in　Angola's　recorded　history。　Armin　Van　Pelt　of　New　York　University's　Geology　Department；　contacted　today　by　telephone；　described　the　fatal　quake　as　a　'seismic　bubble。'　Representatives　of　the　State　Safety　mission　are　continuing　their　examinations　of　the　site；　as　is　a　team　of　。　。　。
　　
　　The　dead　men　were　Robert　Heidel；　twenty…three；　Thomas　Thielke；　thirty…four；　Jerome　Wild；　forty…eight；　Michael　Hagen；　twenty…nine；　and　Bruce　Davey；　thirty…nine。　The　two　men　still　missing　were　Arnold　Schulkamp；　fifty…four；　and　Theodore　Rasmussen；　forty…three。　Jack　no　longer　had　to　look　at　the　newspaper's　front　page　to　remember　their　names。　The　first　earthquake　in　the　history　of　Angola；　New　York；　had　occurred　on　the　day　he　had　flipped　away　from　the　Western　Road　and　landed　on　the　town's　border。　Part　of　Jack　Sawyer　wished　that　he　could　have　gone　home　with　big　kindly　Buddy　Parkins；　eaten　dinner　around　the　table　in　the　kitchen　with　the　Parkins　family…boiled　beef　and　deep…dish　apple　pie…and　then　snuggled　into　the　Parkinses'　guest　bed　and　pulled　the　homemade　quilt　up　over　his　head。　And　not　moved；　except　toward　the　table；　for　four　or　five　days。　But　part　of　the　trouble　was　that　he　saw　that　knotty…pine　kitchen　table　heaped　with　crumbly　cheese；　and　on　the　other　side　of　the　table　a　mouse…hole　was　cut　into　a　giant　baseboard；　and　from　holes　in　the　jeans　of　the　three　Parkins　boys　protruded　thin　long　tails。　Who　plays　these　Jerry　Bledsoe　changes；　Daddy？　Heidel；　Thielke；　Wild；　Hagen；　Davey；　Schulkamp　and　Rasmussen。　Those　Jerry　changes？　He　knew　who　played　them。
　　　
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　　The　huge　yellow…and…purple　sign　reading　BUCKEYE　MALL　floated　ahead　of　Jack　as　he　came　around　the　final　curve　of　the　off…ramp；　drifted　past　his　shoulder　and　reappeared　on　his　other　side；　at　which　point　he　could　finally　see　that　it　was　erected　on　a　tripod　of　tall　yellow　poles　in　the　shopping…center　parking　lot。　The　mall　itself　was　a　futuristic　assemblage　of　ochre…colored　buildings　that　seemed　to　be　windowless…a　second　later；　Jack　realized　that　the　mall　was　covered；　and　what　he　was　seeing　was　only　the　illusion　of　separate　buildings。　He　put　his　hand　in　his　pocket　and　fingered　the　tight　roll　of　twenty…three　single　dollar　bills　which　was　his　earthly　fortune。
　　In　the　cool　sunlight　of　an　early　autumn　afternoon；　Jack　sprinted　across　the　street　toward　the　mall's　parking　lot。
　　If　it　had　not　been　for　his　conversation　with　Buddy　Parkins；　Jack　would　very　likely　have　stayed　on　U。S。　40　and　tried　to　cover　another　fifty　miles…he　wanted　to　get　to　Illinois；　where　Richard　Sloat　was；　in　the　next　two　or　three　days。　The　thought　of　seeing　his　friend　Richard　again　had　kept　him　going　during　the　weary　days　of　nonstop　work　on　Elbert　Palamountain's　farm：　the　image　of　spectacled；　serious…faced　Richard　Sloat　in　his　room　at　Thayer　School；　in　Springfield；　Illinois；　had　fueled　him　as　much　as　Mrs。　Palamountain's　generous　meals。　Jack　still　wanted　to　see　Richard；　and　as　soon　as　he　could：　but　Buddy　Parkins's　inviting　him　home　had　somehow　unstrung　him。　He　could　not　just　climb　into　another　car　and　begin　all　over　again　on　the　Story。　（In　any　case；　Jack　reminded　himself；　the　Story　seemed　to　be　losing　its　potency。）　The　shopping　mall　gave　him　a　perfect　chance　to　drop　out　for　an　hour　or　two；　especially　if　there　was　a　movie　theater　somewhere　in　there…right　now；　Jack　could　have　watched　the　dullest；　soppiest　Love　Story　of　a　movie。
　　And　before　the　movie；　were　he　lucky　enough　to　find　a　theater；　he　would　be　able　to　take　care　of　two　things　he　had　been　putting　off　for　at　least　a　week。　Jack　had　seen　Buddy　Parkins　looking　at　his　disintegrating　Nikes。　Not　only　were　the　running　shoes　falling　apart；　the　soles；　once　spongy　and　elastic；　had　mysteriously　bee　hard　as　asphalt。　On　days　when　he　had　to　walk　great　distances…or　when　he　had　to　work　standing　up　all　day…his　feet　stung　as　if　they'd　been　burned。
　　The　second　task；　calling　his　mother；　was　so　loaded　with　guilt　and　other　fearful　emotions　that　Jack　could　not　quite　allow　it　to　bee　conscious。　He　did　not　know　if　he　could　keep　from　weeping；　once　he'd　heard　his　mother's　voice。　What　if　she　sounded　weak…what　if　she　sounded　really　sick？　Could　he　really　keep　going　west　if　Lily　hoarsely　begged　him　to　e　back　to　New　Hampshire？　So　he　could　not　admit　to　himself　that　he　was　probably　going　to　call　his　mother。　His　mind　gave　him　the　suddenly　very　clear　image　of　a　bank　of　pay　telephones　beneath　their　hairdryer　plastic　bubbles；　and　almost　immediately　bucked　away　from　it…as　if　Elroy　or　some　other　Territories　creature　could　reach　right　out　of　the　receiver　and　clamp　a　hand　around　his　throat。
　　Just　then　three　girls　a　year　or　two　older　than　Jack　bounced　out　of　the　back　of　a　Subaru　Brat　which　had　swung　recklessly　into　a　parking　spot　near　the　mall's　main　entrance。　For　a　second　they　had　the　look　of　models　contorted　into　awkwardly　elegant　poses　of　delight　and　astonishment。　When　they　had　adjusted　into　more　conventional　postures　the　girls　glanced　incuriously　at　Jack　and　began　to　flip　their　hair　expertly　back　into　place。　They　were　leggy　in　their　tight　jeans；　these　confident　little　princesses　of　the　tenth　grade；　and　when　they　laughed　they　put　their　hands　over　their　mouths　in　a　fashion　which　suggested　that　laughter　itself　was　laughable。　Jack　slowed　his　walk　into　a　kind　of　sleepwalker's　stroll。　One　of　the　princesses　glanced　at　him　and　muttered　something　to　the　brown…haired　girl　beside　her。
　　I'm　different　now；　Jack　thought：　I'm　not　like　them　any…more。　The　recognition　pierced　him　with　loneliness。
　　A　thickset　blond　boy　in　a　blue　sleeveless　down　vest　climbed　out　of　the　driver's　seat　and　gathered　the　girls　around　him　by　the　simple　expedient　of　pretending　to　ignore　them。　The　boy；　who　must　have　been　a　senior　and　at　the　very　least　in　the　varsity　backfield；　glanced　once　at　Jack　and　then　looked　appraisingly　at　the　facade　of　the　mall。　'Timmy？'　said　the　tall　brown…haired　girl。　'Yeah；　yeah；'　the　boy　said。　'I　was　just　wondering　what　smells　like　shit　out　here。'　He　rewarded　the　girls　with　a　superior　little　smile。　The　brown…haired　girl　looked　smirkingly　toward　Jack；　then　swung　herself　across　the　asphalt　with　her　friends。　The　three　girls　followed　Timmy's　arrogant　body　through　the　glass　doors　into　the　mall。
　　Jack　waited　until　the　figures　of　Timmy　and　his　court；　visible　through　the　glass；　had　shrunk　to　the　size　of　puppies　far　down　the　long　mall　before　he　stepped　on　the　plate　which　opened　the　doors。
　　Cold　predigested　air　embraced　him。
　　
　　Water　trickled　down　over　a　fountain　two　stories　high　set　in　a　wide　pool　surrounded　by　benches。　Open…fronted　shops　on　both　levels　faced　the　fountain。　Bland　Muzak　drifted　down　from　the　ochre　ceiling；　as　did　the　peculiar　bronzy　light；　the　smell　of　popcorn；　which　had　struck　Jack　the　moment　the　glass　doors　had　whooshed　shut　behind　him；　emanated　from　an　antique　popcorn　wagon；　painted　fire…engine　red　and　stationed　outside　a　Waldenbooks　to　the　left　of　the　fountain　on　the　ground　level。　Jack　had　seen　immediately　that　there　was　no　movie　theater　in　the　Buckeye　Mall。　Timmy　and　his　leggy　princesses　were　floating　up　the　escalator　at　the　mall's　other　end；　making；　Jack　thought；　for　a　fast…food　restaurant　called　The　Captain's　Table　right　at　the　top　of　the　escalator。　Jack　put　his　hand　in　his　pants　pocket　again　and　touched　his　roll　of　bills。　Speedy's　guitar…pick　and　Captain　Farren's　coin　nested　at　the　bottom　of　the　pocket；　along　with　a　handful　of　dimes　and　quarters。
　　On　Jack's　level；　sandwiched　between　a　Mr。　Chips　cookie　shop　and　a　liquor　store　advertising　NEW　LOW　PRICES　for　Hiram　Walker　bourbon　and　Inglenook　Chablis；　a　Fayva　shoe　store　drew　him　toward　its　long　table　of　running　shoes。　The　clerk　at　the　cash　register　leaned　forward　and　watched　Jack　pick　over　the　shoes；　clearly　suspicious　that　he　might　try　to　steal　something。　Jack　recognized　none　of　the　brands　on　the　table。　There　were　no　Nikes　or　Pumas　here…they　were　called　Speedster　or　Bullseye　or　Zooms；　and　the　laces　of　each　pair　were　tied　together。　These　were　sneakers；　not　true　running　shoes。　They　were　good　enough；　Jack　supposed。
　　He　bought　the　cheapest　pair　the　store　had　in　his　size；　blue　canvas　with　red　zigzag　stripes　down　the　sides。　No　brand　name　was　visible　anywhere　on　the　shoes。　They　seemed　indistinguishable　from　most　of　the　other　shoes　on　the　table。　At　the　register　he　counted　out　six　limp　one…dollar　bills　and　told　the　clerk　that　he　did　not　need　a　bag。
　　Jack　sat　on　one　of　the　benches　before　the　tall　fountain　and　toed　off　the　battered　Nikes　without　bothering　to　unlace　them。　When　he　slipped　on　the　new　sneakers；　his　feet　fairly　sighed　with　gratitude。　Jack　left　the　bench　and　dropped　his　old　shoes　in　a　tall　black　wastebasket　with　DON'T　BE　A　LITTERBUG　stencilled　on　it　in　white。　Beneath　that；　in　smaller　letters；　the　wastebasket　read　The　earth　is　our　only　home。
　　Jack　began　to　move　aimlessly　through　the　long　lower　arcade　of　the　mall；　searching　for　the　telephones。　At　the　popcorn　wagon　he　parted　with　fifty　cents　and　was　handed　a　quart…size　tub　of　fresh　popcorn　glistening　with　grease。　The　middle…aged　man　in　a　bowler　hat；　a　walrus　moustache；　and　sleeve　garters　who　sold　him　the