sk.thetalisman-第62部分

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　now。　He　felt　that　power　sweeping　through　him；　and　tonight　when　the　moon　rose　he　felt　sure　it　would　sweep　him　away。
　　Over　and　over　again　he　reiterated　that　he　didn't　want　to　hurt　Jack；　that　he　would　rather　kill　himself　than　hurt　Jack。
　　　
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　　Daleville　was　the　closest　small　town。　Jack　got　there　shortly　after　the　courthouse　clock　struck　noon；　and　went　into　the　True　Value　hardware　store。　One　hand　was　stuffed　into　his　pants　pocket；　touching　his　depleted　roll　of　bills。
　　'Help　you；　son？'
　　'Yes　sir；'　Jack　said。　'I　want　to　buy　a　padlock。'
　　'Well；　step　over　here　and　let's　us　have　a　look。　We've　got　Yales；　and　Mosslers；　and　Lok…Tites；　and　you　name　it。　What　kind　of　padlock　you　want？'
　　'A　big　one；'　Jack　said；　looking　at　the　clerk　with　his　shadowed；　somehow　disquieting　eyes。　His　face　was　gaunt　but　still　persuasive　in　its　odd　beauty。
　　'A　big　one；'　the　clerk　mused。　'And　what　would　you　be　wanting　it　for；　might　I　ask？'
　　'My　dog；'　Jack　said　steadily。　A　Story。　Always　they　wanted　a　Story。　He　had　gotten　this　one　ready　on　the　way　in　from　the　shed　where　they　had　spent　the　last　two　nights。　'I　need　it　for　my　dog。　I　have　to　lock　him　up。　He　bites。'
　　　
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　　The　padlock　he　picked　out　cost　ten　dollars；　leaving　Jack　with　about　ten　dollars　to　his　name。　It　hurt　him　to　spend　that　much；　and　he　almost　went　for　a　cheaper　item　。　。　。　and　then　he　had　a　memory　of　how　Wolf　had　looked　the　night　before；　howling　at　the　moon　with　orange　fire　spilling　from　his　eyes。
　　He　paid　the　ten　dollars。
　　He　stuck　out　his　thumb　at　every　passing　car　as　he　hurried　back　to　the　shed；　but　of　course　none　of　them　stopped。　Perhaps　he　looked　too　wild…eyed；　too　frantic。　He　certainly　felt　wild…eyed　and　frantic。　The　newspaper　the　hardware　store　clerk　had　let　him　look　at　promised　sunset　at　six　o'clock　P。M。　on　the　dot。　Moonrise　was　not　listed；　but　Jack　guessed　seven；　at　the　latest。　It　was　already　one　p。m。；　and　he　had　no　idea　where　he　was　going　to　put　Wolf　for　the　night。
　　You　have　to　lock　me　up；　Jack；　Wolf　had　said。　Have　to　lock　me　up　good。　Because　if　I　get　out；　I'll　hurt　anything　I　can　run　down　and　catch　hold　of。　Even　you；　Jack。　Even　you。　So　you　have　to　lock　me　up　and　keep　me　locked　up；　no　matter　what　I　do　or　what　I　say。　Three　days；　Jack；　until　the　moon　starts　to　get　thin　again。　Three　days　。　。　。　even　four；　if　you're　not　pletely　sure。
　　Yes；　but　where？　It　had　to　be　someplace　away　from　people；　so　no　one　would　hear　Wolf　if…when；　he　amended　reluctantly…he　began　to　howl。　And　it　had　to　be　someplace　a　lot　stronger　than　the　shed　they　had　been　staying　in。　If　Jack　used　his　fine　new　ten…dollar　padlock　on　the　door　of　that　place；　Wolf　would　bust　right　out　through　the　back。
　　Where？
　　He　didn't　know；　but　he　knew　he　had　only　six　hours　to　find　a　place　。　。　。　maybe　less。
　　Jack　began　to　hurry　along　even　faster。
　　　
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　　They　had　passed　several　empty　houses　to　e　this　far；　had　even　spent　the　night　in　one；　and　Jack　watched　all　the　way　back　from　Daleville　for　the　signs　of　lack　of　occupancy：　for　blank　uncovered　windows　and　FOR　SALE　signs；　for　grass　grown　as　high　as　the　second　porch　step　and　the　sense　of　lifelessness　mon　to　empty　houses。　It　was　not　that　he　hoped　he　could　lock　Wolf　into　some　farmer's　bedroom　for　the　three　days　of　his　Change。　Wolf　would　be　able　to　knock　down　the　door　of　the　shed。　But　one　farmhouse　had　a　root　cellar；　that　would　have　worked。
　　A　stout　oaken　door　set　into　a　grassy　mound　like　a　door　in　a　fairy　tale；　and　behind　it　a　room　without　walls　or　ceiling…an　underground　room；　a　cave　no　creature　could　dig　its　way　out　of　in　less　than　a　month。　The　cellar　would　have　held　Wolf；　and　the　earthen　floor　and　walls　would　have　kept　him　from　injuring　himself。
　　But　the　empty　farmhouse；　and　the　root　cellar；　must　have　been　at　least　thirty　or　forty　miles　behind　them。　They　would　never　make　it　back　there　in　the　time　remaining　before　moonrise。　And　would　Wolf　still　be　willing　to　run　forty　miles；　especially　for　the　purpose　of　putting　himself　in　a　foodless　solitary　confinement；　so　close　to　the　time　of　his　Change？
　　Suppose；　in　fact；　that　too　much　time　had　passed。　Suppose　that　Wolf　had　e　too　close　to　the　edge　and　would　refuse　any　sort　of　imprisonment？　What　if　that　capering；　greedy　underside　of　his　character　had　climbed　up　out　of　the　pit　and　was　beginning　to　look　around　this　odd　new　world；　wondering　where　the　food　was　hiding？　The　big　padlock　threatening　to　rip　the　seams　out　of　Jack's　pocket　would　be　useless。
　　He　could　turn　around；　Jack　realized。　He　could　walk　back　to　Daleville　and　keep　on　going。　In　a　day　or　two　he'd　be　nearly　to　Lapel　or　Cicero；　and　maybe　he　would　work　an　afternoon　at　a　feed　store　or　get　in　some　hours　as　a　farmhand；　make　a　few　dollars　or　scrounge　a　meal　or　two；　and　then　push　all　the　way　to　the　Illinois　border　in　the　next　few　days。　Illinois　would　be　easy；　Jack　thought…he　didn't　know　how　he　was　going　to　do　this；　exactly；　but　he　was　pretty　sure　he　could　get　to　Springfield　and　the　Thayer　School　only　a　day　or　two　after　he　made　it　into　Illinois。
　　And；　Jack　puzzled　as　he　hesitated　a　quarter…mile　down　the　road　from　the　shed；　how　would　he　explain　Wolf　to　Richard　Sloat？　His　old　buddy　Richard；　in　his　round　glasses　and　ties　and　laced　cordovans？　Richard　Sloat　was　thoroughly　rational　and；　though　very　intelligent；　hard…headed。　If　you　couldn't　see　it；　it　probably　didn't　exist。　Richard　had　never　been　interested　in　fairy　tales　as　a　child；　he　had　remained　unexcited　by　Disney　films　about　fairy　godmothers　who　turned　pumpkins　into　coaches；　about　wicked　queens　who　owned　speaking　mirrors。　Such　conceits　were　too　absurd　to　snare　Richard's　six…year…old　（or　eight…year…old；　or　ten…year…old）　fancy…unlike；　say；　a　photograph　of　an　electron　microscope。　Richard's　enthusiasm　had　embraced　Rubik's　Cube；　which　he　could　solve　in　less　than　ninety　seconds；　but　Jack　did　not　think　it　would　go　so　far　as　to　accept　a　six…foot…five；　sixteen…year…old　werewolf。
　　For　a　moment　Jack　twisted　helplessly　on　the　road…for　a　moment　he　almost　thought　that　he　would　be　able　to　leave　Wolf　behind　and　get　on　with　his　journey　toward　Richard　and　then　the　Talisman。
　　What　if　I'm　the　herd？　he　asked　himself　silently。　And　what　he　thought　of　was　Wolf　scrambling　down　the　bank　after　his　poor　terrified　animals；　throwing　himself　into　the　water　to　rescue　them。
　　　
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　　The　shed　was　empty。　As　soon　as　Jack　saw　the　door　leaning　open　he　knew　that　Wolf　had　taken　himself　off　somewhere；　but　he　scrambled　down　the　side　of　the　gully　and　picked　his　way　through　the　trash　almost　in　disbelief。　Wolf　could　not　have　gone　farther　than　a　dozen　feet　by　himself；　yet　he　had　done　so。　'I'm　back；'　Jack　called。　'Hey；　Wolf？　I　got　the　lock。'　He　knew　he　was　talking　to　himself；　and　a　glance　into　the　shed　con…firmed　this。　His　pack　lay　on　a　little　wooden　bench；　a　stack　of　pulpy　magazines　dated　1973　stood　beside　it。　In　one　corner　of　the　windowless　wooden　shed　odd　lengths　of　deadwood　had　been　carelessly　heaped；　as　if　someone　had　once　half…heartedly　made　a　stab　at　squirreling　away　firewood。　Otherwise　the　shed　was　bare。　Jack　turned　around　from　the　gaping　door　and　looked　helplessly　up　the　banks　of　the　gully。
　　Old　tires　scattered　here　and　there　among　the　weeds；　a　bundle　of　faded　and　rotting　political　pamphlets　still　bearing　the　name　LUGAR；　one　dented　blue…and…white　Connecticut　license　plate；　beer…bottles　with　labels　so　faded　they　were　white　。　。　。　no　Wolf。　Jack　raised　his　hands　to　cup　his　mouth。　'Hey；　Wolf！　I'm　back！'　He　expected　no　reply；　and　got　none。　Wolf　was　gone。
　　'Shit；'　Jack　said；　and　put　his　hands　on　his　hips。　Conflicting　emotions；　exasperation　and　relief　and　anxiety；　surged　through　him。　Wolf　had　left　in　order　to　save　Jack's　life…that　had　to　be　the　meaning　of　his　disappearance。　As　soon　as　Jack　had　set　off　for　Daleville；　his　partner　had　skipped　out。　He　had　run　away　on　those　tireless　legs　and　by　now　was　miles　away；　waiting　for　the　moon　to　e　up。　By　now；　Wolf　could　be　anywhere。
　　This　realization　was　part　of　Jack's　anxiety。　Wolf　could　have　taken　himself　into　the　woods　visible　at　the　end　of　the　long　field　bordered　by　the　gully；　and　in　the　woods　gorged　himself　on　rabbits　and　fieldmice　and　whatever　else　might　live　there；　moles　and　badgers　and　the　whole　cast　of　The　Wind　in　the　Willows。　Which　would　have　been　dandy。　But　Wolf　just　might　sniff　out　the　livestock；　wherever　it　was；　and　put　himself　in　real　danger。　He　might　also；　Jack　realized；　sniff　out　the　farmer　and　his　family。　Or；　even　worse；　Wolf　might　have　worked　his　way　close　to　one　of　the　towns　north　of　them。　Jack　couldn't　be　sure；　but　he　thought　that　a　transformed　Wolf　would　probably　be　capable　of　slaughtering　at　least　half　a　dozen　people　before　somebody　finally　killed　him。
　　'Damn；　damn；　damn；'　Jack　said；　and　began　to　climb　up　the　far　side　of　the　gully。　He　had　no　real　hopes　of　seeing　Wolf…he　would　probably　never　see　Wolf　again；　he　realized。　In　some　small…town　paper；　a　few　days　down　the　road；　he'd　find　a　horrified　description　of　the　carnage　caused　by　an　enormous　wolf　which　had　apparently　wandered　into　Main　Street　looking　for　food。　And　there　would　be　more　names。　More　names　like　Thielke；　Heidel；　Hagen　。　。　。
　　At　first　he　looked　toward　the　road；　hoping　even　now　to　see　Wolf's　giant　form　skulking　away　to　the　east…he　wouldn't　want　to　meet　Jack　returning　from　Daleville。　The　long　road　was　as　deserted　as　the　shed。
　　Of　course。
　　The　sun；　as　good　a　clock　as　the　one　he　wore　on　his　wrist；　had　slipped　well　below　its　meridian。
　　Jack　turned　despairingly　toward　the　long　field　and　the　edge　of　the　woods　behind　it。　Nothing　moved　but　the　tips　of　the　stubble；　which　bent　before　a　chill　wandering　breeze。
　　HUNT　CONTINUES　FOR　KILLER　WOLF；　a　headline　would　read；　a　few　days　down　the　road。
　　Then　a　large　brown　boulder　at　the　edge　of　the　woods　did　move；　and　Jack　realized　that　the　boulder　was　Wolf。　He　had　hunkered　down　on　his　heels　and　was　staring　at　Jack。
　　'Oh；　you　inconvenient　son　of　a　bitch；'　Jack　said；　and　in　the　midst　of　his　relief　knew　that　a　part　of　him　had　been　secretly　delighted　by　Wolf's　departure。　He　stepped　toward　him。
　　Wolf　did　not　move；　but　his　posture　somehow　intensified；　became　more　electric　and　aware。　Jack's　next　step　required　more　courage　than　the　first。
　　Twenty　yards　farther；　he　saw　that　Wolf　had　continued　to　change。　His　hair　had