sk.thetalisman-第69部分

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　　Jack　looked　uneasily　at　Wolf。　His　head　was　bowed；　and　he　was　breathing　heavily。　A　glistening　line　of　slobber　went　from　the　corner　of　his　mouth　to　his　chin。　A　black　smudge；　half…dirt；　half…grease；　covered　the　front　of　the　stolen　Athletic　Department　sweatshirt。　Wolf　shook　his　head；　but　the　gesture　seemed　to　have　no　content…he　might　have　been　shaking　away　a　fly。
　　'Name；　son？　Name？　Name？　Are　you　called　Bill？　Paul？　Art？　Sammy？　No…something　exceedingly　foursquare；　I'm　sure。　George；　perhaps？'
　　'Wolf；'　said　Wolf。
　　'Ah；　that　is　nice。'　Gardener　beamed　at　both　of　them。　'Mr。　Parker　and　Mr。　Wolf。　Perhaps　you'll　escort　them　inside；　Officer　Williams？　And　aren't　we　happy　that　Mr。　Bast　is　in　residence　already？　For　the　presence　of　Mr。　Hector　Bast…one　of　our　stewards；　by　the　way…means　that　we　shall　probably　be　able　to　outfit　Mr。　Wolf。'　He　peered　at　the　two　boys　over　the　frames　of　his　sunglasses。　'One　of　our　beliefs　here　at　the　Scripture　Home　is　that　the　soldiers　of　the　Lord　march　best　when　they　march　in　uniform。　And　Heck　Bast　is　nearly　as　large　as　your　friend　Wolf；　young　Jack　Parker。　So　from　the　points　of　view　of　both　clothing　and　discipline　you　shall　be　very　well　served　indeed。　A　fort；　yes？'
　　'Jack；'　Wolf　said　in　a　low　voice。
　　'Yes。'
　　'My　head　hurts；　Jack。　Hurts　bad。'
　　'Your　little　head　pains　you；　Mr。　Wolf？'　Reverend　Sunlight　Gardener　half…danced　toward　Wolf　and　gently　patted　his　arm。　Wolf　snatched　his　arm　away；　his　face　working　into　an　exaggerated　reflex　of　disgust。　The　cologne；　Jack　knew…that　heavy　cloying　odor　would　have　been　like　ammonia　in　Wolf's　sensitive　nostrils。
　　'Never　mind；　son；'　said　Gardener；　seemingly　unaffected　by　Wolf's　withdrawal　from　him。　'Mr。　Bast　or　Mr。　Singer；　our　other　steward；　will　see　to　that　inside。　Frank；　I　thought　I　told　you　to　get　them　into　the　Home。'　
　　Officer　Williams　reacted　as　if　he　had　been　jabbed　in　the　back　with　a　pin。　His　face　grew　more　feverish；　and　he　jerked　his　peculiar　body　across　the　porch　to　the　front　door。
　　Sunlight　Gardener　twinkled　at　Jack　again；　and　the　boy　saw　that　all　his　dandified　animation　was　only　a　kind　of　sterile　self…amusement：　the　man　in　white　was　cold　and　crazy　within。　A　heavy　gold　chain　rattled　out　of　Gardener's　sleeve　and　came　to　rest　against　the　base　of　his　thumb。　Jack　heard　the　whistle　of　a　whip　cutting　through　the　air；　and　this　time　he　recognized　Gardener's　dark　gray　eyes。
　　Gardener　was　Osmond's　Twinner。
　　'Inside；　young　fellows；'　Gardener　said；　half…bowing　and　indicating　the　open　door。
　　　
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　　'By　the　way；　Mr。　Parker；'　Gardener　said；　once　they　had　gone　in；　'is　it　possible　that　we've　met　before？　There　must　be　some　reason　you　look　so　familiar　to　me；　mustn't　there？'
　　'I　don't　know；'　Jack　said；　looking　carefully　around　the　odd　interior　of　the　Scripture　Home。
　　Long　couches　covered　with　a　dark　blue　fabric　sat　against　the　wall　on　the　forest…green　carpet；　two　massive　leather…topped　desks　had　been　placed　against　the　opposite　wall。　At　one　of　the　desks　a　pimply　teenager　glanced　at　them　dully；　then　returned　to　the　video　screen　before　him；　where　a　TV　preacher　was　inveighing　against　rock　and　roll。　The　teenage　boy　seated　at　the　adjoining　desk　straightened　up　and　fixed　Jack　with　an　aggressive　stare。　He　was　slim　and　black…haired　and　his　narrow　face　looked　clever　and　bad…tempered。　To　the　pocket　of　his　white　turtleneck　sweater　was　pinned　a　rectangular　name…plate　of　the　sort　worn　by　soldiers：　SINGER。
　　'But　I　do　think　we　have　met　each　other　somewhere；　don't　you；　my　lad？　I　assure　you；　we　must　have…I　don't　forget；　I　am　literally　incapable　of　forgetting；　the　face　of　a　boy　I　have　encountered。　Have　you　ever　been　in　trouble　before　this；　Jack？'　
　　Jack　said；　'I　never　saw　you　before。'　
　　Across　the　room；　a　massive　boy　had　lifted　himself　off　one　of　the　blue　couches　and　was　now　standing　at　attention。　He　too　wore　a　white　turtleneck　sweater　and　a　military　nameplate。　His　hands　wandered　nervously　from　his　sides　to　his　belt；　into　the　pockets　of　his　blue　jeans；　back　to　his　sides。　He　was　at　least　six…three　and　seemed　to　weigh　nearly　three　hundred　pounds。　Acne　burned　across　his　cheeks　and　forehead。　This；　clearly；　was　Bast。
　　'Well；　perhaps　it　will　e　to　me　later；'　Sunlight　Gardener　said。　'Heck；　e　up　here　and　help　our　new　arrivals　at　the　desk；　will　you？'　
　　Bast　lumbered　forward；　scowling。　He　made　a　point　of　ing　up　very　close　to　Wolf　before　he　sidestepped　past　him；　scowling　more　fiercely　all　the　while…if　Wolf　had　opened　his　eyes；　which　he　did　not；　he　would　have　seen　no　more　than　the　ravaged　moonscape　of　Bast's　forehead　and　the　mean　small　eyes；　like　a　bear's　eyes；　bulging　up　at　him　from　beneath　crusty　brows。　Bast　switched　his　gaze　to　Jack；　muttered；　'C'mon；'　and　flapped　a　hand　toward　the　desk。
　　'Registration；　then　take　them　up　to　the　laundry　for　clothes；'　Gardener　said　in　a　flat　voice。　He　smiled　with　chromelike　brilliance　at　Jack。　'Jack　Parker；'　he　said　softly。　'I　wonder　who　you　really　are；　Jack　Parker。　Bast；　make　sure　everything　is　out　of　his　pockets。'　
　　Bast　grinned。
　　Sunlight　Gardener　drifted　across　the　room　toward　an　obviously　impatient　Franky　Williams　and　languidly　withdrew　a　long　leather　wallet　from　his　jacket's　inside　pocket。　Jack　saw　him　begin　to　count　money　out　into　the　policeman's　hands。
　　'Pay　attention；　snotface；'　said　the　boy　behind　the　desk；　and　Jack　snapped　around　to　face　him。　The　boy　was　playing　with　a　pencil；　the　smirk　on　his　face　an　utterly　inadequate　disguise　for　what　seemed　to　Jack's　keyed…up　perceptions　his　characteristic　anger…a　rage　that　bubbled　far　down　within　him；　eternally　stoked。　'Can　he　write？'
　　'Jeez；　I　don't　think　so；'　Jack　said。
　　'Then　you'll　have　to　sign　in　for　him。'　Singer　shoved　two　legal…sized　sheets　of　paper　at　him。　'Print　on　the　top　line；　write　on　the　bottom　one。　Where　the　X's　are。'　He　fell　back　into　his　chair；　raising　the　pencil　to　his　lips；　and　slumped　eloquently　into　its　corner。　Jack　supposed　that　was　a　trick　learned　from　the　very　Reverend　Sunlight　Gardener。
　　JACK　PARKER；　he　printed；　and　scrawled　something　like　that　at　the　bottom　of　the　sheet。　PHILIP　JACK　WOLF。　Another　scrawl；　even　less　like　his　real　handwriting。
　　'Now　you're　wards　of　the　State　of　Indiana；　and　that's　what　you'll　be　for　the　next　thirty　days；　unless　you　decide　to　stay　longer。'　Singer　twitched　the　papers　back　toward　himself。　'You'll　be…'
　　'Decide？'　Jack　asked。　'What　do　you　mean；　decide？'　
　　A　trifle　of　red　grew　smooth　beneath　Singer's　cheeks。　He　jerked　his　head　to　one　side　and　seemed　to　smile。　'I　guess　you　don't　know　that　over　sixty　percent　of　our　kids　are　here　voluntarily。　It's　possible；　yeah。　You　could　decide　to　stay　here。'　
　　Jack　tried　to　keep　his　face　expressionless。
　　Singer's　mouth　twitched　violently；　as　if　a　fishhook　had　snagged　it。　'This　is　a　pretty　good　place；　and　if　I　ever　hear　you　ranking　it　I'll　pound　the　shit　out　of　you…it's　the　best　place　you've　ever　been　in；　I'm　sure。　I'll　tell　you　another　thing：　you　got　no　choice。　You　have　to　respect　the　Sunlight　Home。　You　understand？'　
　　Jack　nodded　his　head。
　　'How　about　him？　Does　he？'
　　Jack　looked　up　at　Wolf；　who　was　blinking　slowly　and　breathing　through　his　mouth。
　　'I　think　so。'
　　'All　right。　The　two　of　you　will　be　bunkmates。　The　day　starts　at　five　in　the　morning；　when　we　have　chapel。　Fieldwork　until　seven；　then　breakfast　in　the　dining　hall。　Back　to　the　field　until　noon；　when　we　get　lunch　plus　Bible　readings…everybody　gets　a　crack　at　this；　so　you　better　start　thinking　about　what　you'll　read。　None　of　that　sexy　stuff　from　the　Song　of　Songs；　either；　unless　you　want　to　find　out　what　discipline　means。　More　work　after　lunch。'　
　　He　looked　sharply　up　at　Jack。　'Hey；　don't　think　that　you　work　for　nothing　at　the　Sunlight　Home。　Part　of　our　arrangement　with　the　state　is　that　everybody　gets　a　fair　hourly　wage；　which　is　set　against　the　cost　of　keeping　you　here…clothes　and　food；　electricity；　heating；　stuff　like　that。　You　are　credited　fifty　cents　an　hour。　That　means　that　you　earn　five　dollars　a　day　for　the　hours　you　put　in…thirty　dollars　a　week。　Sundays　are　spent　in　the　Sunlight　Chapel；　except　for　the　hour　when　we　actually　put　on　the　Sunlight　Gardener　Gospel　Hour。'　
　　The　red　smoothed　itself　out　under　the　surface　of　his　skin　again；　and　Jack　nodded　in　recognition；　being　more　or　less　obliged　to。
　　'If　you　turn　out　right　and　if　you　can　talk　like　a　human　being；　which　most　people　can't；　then　you　might　get　a　shot　at　OS…Outside　Staff。　We've　got　two　squads　of　OS；　one　that　works　the　streets；　selling　hymn　sheets　and　flowers　and　Reverend　Gardener's　pamphlets；　and　the　other　one　on　duty　at　the　airport。　Anyhow；　we　got　thirty　days　to　turn　you　two　scumbags　around　and　make　you　see　how　dirty　and　filthy　and　diseased　your　crummy　lives　were　before　you　came　here；　and　this　is　where　we　start；　right　now　exactly。'　
　　Singer　stood　up；　his　face　the　color　of　a　blazing　autumn　leaf；　and　delicately　set　the　tips　of　his　fingers　atop　his　desk。　'Empty　your　pockets。　Right　now。'
　　'Right　here　and　now；'　Wolf　mumbled；　as　if　by　rote。
　　'TURN　EM　OUT！'　Singer　shouted。　'I　WANT　TO　SEE　IT　ALL！'　
　　Bast　stepped　up　beside　Wolf。　Reverend　Gardener；　having　seen　Franky　Williams　to　his　car；　drifted　expressively　into　Jack's　vicinity。
　　'Personal　possessions　tend　to　tie　our　boys　too　much　to　the　past；　we've　found；'　Gardener　purred　to　Jack。　'Destructive。　We　find　this　a　very　helpful　tool。'
　　'EMPTY　YOUR　POCKETS！'　Singer　bawled；　now　nearly　in　a　straightforward　rage。
　　Jack　pulled　from　his　pockets　the　random　detritus　of　his　time　on　the　road。　A　red　handkerchief　Elbert　Palamountain's　wife　had　given　him　when　she'd　seen　him　wipe　his　nose　on　his　sleeve；　two　matchbooks；　the　few　dollars　and　scattered　change　that　was　all　of　his　money…a　total　of　six　dollars　and　forty…two　cents…the　key　to　room　407　of　the　Alhambra　Inn　and　Gardens。　He　closed　his　fingers　over　the　three　objects　he　intended　to　keep。　'I　guess　you　want　my　pack；　too；'　he　said。
　　'Sure；　you　sorry　little　fart；'　Singer　ranted；　'of　course　we　want　your　foul　backpack；　but　first　we　want　whatever　you're　trying　to　hide。　Get　it　out…right　now。'　
　　Reluctantly　Jack　took　Speedy's　guitar…pick；　the　croaker　marble；　and　the　big　wheel　of　the　silver　dollar　from　his　pocket　and　put　them　in　the　nest　of　the　handkerchief。　'They're　just　good…luck　stuf