sk.thetalisman-第86部分

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　　And　the　Queen。
　　Please；　just　leave　me　alone…
　　At　last　he　heard　the　door　at　the　top　of　the　stairs　open；　and　that　roused　him。　He　did　not　want　to　be　found　here。　Let　them　take　him　outside；　in　the　back　yard；　but　not　in　this　stinking；　blood…spattered；　smokey　room　where　he　had　been　tortured　and　his　friend　killed。
　　Barely　thinking　about　what　he　was　doing；　Jack　took　up　the　envelope　with　JACK　PARKER　written　across　the　front。　He　looked　inside　and　saw　the　guitar…pick；　the　silver　dollar；　his　beat…up　wallet；　the　Rand　McNally　road　atlas。　He　tilted　the　envelope　and　saw　the　marble。　He　stuck　everything　in　the　pack　and　slipped　it　on；　feeling　like　a　boy　in　a　state　of　hypnosis。
　　Footfalls　on　the　stairs；　slow　and　cautious。
　　'…where's　the　damn　lights…'
　　'…funny　smell；　like　a　zoo…'
　　'…watch　it；　boys…'
　　Jack's　eyes　happened　on　the　steel　file…tray；　neatly　stacked　with　envelopes　reading　I'LL　BE　A　SUNBEAM　FOR　JESUS。　He　helped　himself　to　two　of　them。
　　Now　when　they　grab　you　ing　out；　they　can　get　you　for　robbery　as　well　as　murder。
　　Didn't　matter。　He　was　moving　now　for　the　simple　sake　of　movement；　no　more　than　that。
　　The　back　yard　appeared　pletely　deserted。　Jack　stood　at　the　top　of　the　stairs　that　exited　through　a　bulkhead　and　looked　around；　hardly　able　to　believe　it。　There　were　voices　from　the　front；　and　pulses　of　light；　and　occasional　smears　of　static　and　dispatchers'　voices　from　police　radios　that　had　been　cranked　up　all　the　way　to　high　gain；　but　the　back　yard　was　empty。　It　made　no　sense。　But　he　supposed　if　they　were　confused　enough；　rattled　enough　by　what　they　had　found　inside　。　。　。
　　Then　a　voice；　muffled；　less　than　twenty　feet　away　on　Jack's　left；　said；　'Christ！　Do　you　believe　this？'　
　　Jack's　head　snapped　around。　There；　squatting　on　the　beaten　dirt　like　a　crude　Iron　Age　coffin；　was　the　Box。　A　flashlight　was　moving　around　inside。　Jack　could　see　shoe…soles　sticking　out。　A　dim　figure　was　crouching　by　the　mouth　of　the　Box；　examining　the　door。
　　'Looks　like　this　thing　was　ripped　right　off'n　its　hinges；'　the　fellow　looking　at　the　door　called　into　the　Box。　'I　don't　know　how　anyone　coulda　done　it；　though。　Hinges　are　steel。　But　they're　just　。　。　。　twisted。'
　　'Never　mind　the　damn　hinges；'　the　muffled　voice　came　back。　'This　goddam　thing　。　。　。　they　kept　kids　in　here；　Paulie！　I　really　think　they　did！　Kids！　There's　initials　on　the　walls　。　。　。'　
　　The　light　moved。
　　'。　。　。　and　Bible　verses　。　。　。'　
　　The　light　moved　again。
　　'。　。　。　and　pictures。　Little　pictures。　Little　stick…men　and　…women；　like　kids　draw　。　。　。　Christ；　do　you　think　Williams　knew　about　this？'
　　'Must　have；'　Paulie　said；　still　examining　the　torn　and　twisted　steel　hinges　on　the　Box's　door。
　　Paulie　was　bending　in；　his　colleague　was　backing　out。　Making　no　special　attempt　at　concealment；　Jack　walked　across　the　open　yard　behind　them。　He　went　along　the　side　of　the　garage　and　came　out　on　the　shoulder　of　the　road。　From　here　he　had　an　angle　on　the　careless　jam　of　police　cars　in　the　Sunlight　Home's　front　yard。　As　Jack　stood　watching；　an　ambulance　came　tearing　up　the　road；　flashers　whirling；　siren　warbling。
　　'Loved　you；　Wolf；'　Jack　muttered；　and　wiped　an　arm　across　his　wet　eyes。　He　set　off　down　the　road　into　darkness；　thinking　he　would　most　likely　be　picked　up　before　he　got　a　mile　west　of　the　Sunlight　Home。　But　three　hours　later　he　was　still　walking；　apparently　the　cops　had　more　than　enough　to　occupy　them　back　there。
　　　
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　　There　was　a　highway　up　ahead；　over　the　next　rise　or　the　rise　after　that。　Jack　could　see　the　orangey　glow　of　high…intensity　sodium　arcs　on　the　horizon；　could　hear　the　whine　of　the　big　rigs。
　　He　stopped　in　a　trash…littered　ravine　and　washed　his　face　and　hands　in　the　trickle　of　water　ing　out　of　a　culvert。　The　water　was　almost　paralyzing　cold；　but　at　least　it　silenced　the　throbbing　in　his　hands　for　a　while。　The　old　cautions　were　ing　back　almost　unbidden。
　　Jack　stood　for　a　moment　where　he　was；　under　the　dark　night　sky　of　Indiana；　listening　to　the　whine　of　the　big　trucks。
　　The　wind；　murmuring　in　the　trees；　lifted　his　hair。　His　heart　was　heavy　with　the　loss　of　Wolf；　but　even　that　could　not　change　how　good；　how　very　good　it　was　to　be　free。
　　An　hour　later　a　trucker　slowed　for　the　tired；　pallid　boy　standing　in　the　breakdown　lane　with　his　thumb　cocked。　Jack　climbed　in。
　　'Where　you　headed；　kiddo？'　the　trucker　asked。
　　Jack　was　too　tired　and　too　sick　at　heart　to　bother　with　the　Story…he　barely　remembered　it；　anyway。　He　supposed　it　would　e　back　to　him。
　　'West；'　he　said。　'Far　as　you're　going。'
　　'That'd　be　Midstate。'
　　'Fine；'　Jack　said；　and　fell　asleep。
　　The　big　Diamond　Reo　rolled　through　the　chilly　Indiana　night；　Charlie　Daniels　on　the　tape…player；　it　rolled　west；　chasing　its　own　headlights　toward　Illinois。
　　
　　　CHAPTER　28
　　　Jack's　Dream
　　　
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　　Of　course　he　carried　Wolf　with　him。　Wolf　had　gone　home；　but　a　big　loyal　shadow　rode　beside　Jack　in　all　the　trucks　and　Volkswagen　vans　and　dusty　cars　pounding　along　the　Illinois　highways。　This　smiling　ghost　pierced　Jack's　heart。　Sometimes　he　could　see…could　almost　see…Wolf's　huge　hairy　form　bounding　alongside；　romping　through　the　stripped　fields。　Free；　Wolf　beamed　at　him　with　pumpkin…colored　eyes。　When　he　jerked　his　eyes　away；　Jack　felt　the　absence　of　a　Wolf…hand　folding　itself　around　his。　Now　that　he　missed　his　friend　so　pletely；　the　memory　of　his　impatience　with　Wolf　shamed　him；　brought　the　blood　to　his　face。　He　had　thought　about　abandoning　Wolf　more　times　than　he　could　count。　Shameful；　shameful。　Wolf　had　been　。　。　。　it　took　Jack　a　long　time　to　take　it　in；　but　the　word　was　noble。　And　this　noble　being；　so　out　of　place　in　this　world；　had　died　for　him。
　　I　kept　my　herd　safe。　Jack　Sawyer　was　the　herd　no　longer。　I　kept　my　herd　safe。　There　were　times　when　the　truckdrivers　or　insurance　salesmen　who　had　picked　up　this　strange；　pelling　boy　on　the　side　of　the　road…picked　him　up　even　though　the　boy　was　road…dirty　and　shaggy；　even　though　they　might　never　have　taken　on　a　hitchhiker　before　in　their　lives…looked　over　and　saw　him　blinking　back　tears。
　　Jack　mourned　Wolf　as　he　sped　across　Illinois。　He　had　somehow　known　that　he　would　have　no　trouble　getting　rides　once　in　that　state；　and　it　was　true　that　often　all　he　had　to　do　was　stick　out　his　thumb　and　look　an　oning　driver　in　the　eye…instant　ride。　Most　of　the　drivers　did　not　even　demand　the　Story。　All　he　had　to　do　was　give　some　minimal　explanation　for　travelling　alone。　'I'm　going　to　see　a　friend　in　Springfield。'　'I　have　to　pick　up　a　car　and　drive　it　back　home。'　'Great；　great；'　the　drivers　said…had　they　even　heard？　Jack　could　not　tell。　His　mind　riffled　through　a　mile…high　stack　of　images　of　Wolf　splashing　into　a　stream　to　rescue　his　Territories　creatures；　Wolf　nosing　into　a　fragrant　box　that　had　held　a　hamburger；　Wolf　pushing　food　into　his　shed；　bursting　into　the　recording　studio；　taking　the　bullets；　melting　away　Jack　did　not　want　to　see　these　things　again　and　again；　but　he　had　to　and　they　made　his　eyes　burn　with　tears。
　　Not　far　out　of　Danville；　a　short；　fiftyish　man　with　iron…gray　hair　and　the　amused　but　stern　expression　of　one　who　has　taught　fifth　grade　for　two　decades　kept　darting　sly　looks　at　him　from　behind　the　wheel；　then　finally　said；　'Aren't　you　cold；　buster？　You　ought　to　have　more　than　that　little　jacket。'
　　'Maybe　a　little；'　Jack　said。　Sunlight　Gardener　had　thought　the　denim　jackets　warm　enough　for　field…work　right　through　the　winter；　but　now　the　weather　licked　and　stabbed　right　through　its　pores。
　　'I　have　a　coat　on　the　back　seat；'　the　man　said。　'Take　it。　No；　don't　even　try　to　talk　your　way　out　of　it。　That　coat's　yours　now。　Believe　me；　I　won't　freeze。'
　　'But…'
　　'You　have　no　choice　at　all　in　the　matter。　That　is　now　your　coat。　Try　it　on。'　
　　Jack　reached　over　the　back　of　the　seat　and　dragged　a　heavy　length　of　material　onto　his　lap。　At　first　it　was　shapeless；　anonymous。　A　big　patch　pocket　surfaced；　then　a　toggle　button。　It　was　a　loden　coat；　fragrant　with　pipe　tobacco。
　　'My　old　one；'　the　man　said。　'I　just　keep　it　in　the　car　because　I　don't　know　what　to　do　with　it…last　year；　the　kids　gave　me　this　goosedown　thing。　So　you　have　it。'　
　　Jack　struggled　into　the　big　coat；　putting　it　on　right　over　the　denim　jacket。　'Oh　boy；'　he　said。　It　was　like　being　embraced　by　a　bear　with　a　taste　for　Borkum　Riff。
　　'Good；'　the　man　said。　'Now　if　you　ever　find　yourself　standing　out　on　a　cold　and　windy　road　again；　you　can　thank　Myles　P。　Kiger　of　Ogden；　Illinois；　for　saving　your　skin。　Your…'　Myles　P。　Kiger　looked　as　though　he　were　going　to　say　more：　the　word　hung　in　the　air　for　a　second；　the　man　was　still　smiling；　then　the　smile　warped　into　goofy　embarrassment　and　Kiger　snapped　his　head　forward。　In　the　gray　morning　light；　Jack　saw　a　mottled　red　pattern　spread　out　across　the　man's　cheeks。
　　Your　（something）　skin？
　　Oh；　no。
　　Your　beautiful　skin。　Your　touchable；　kissable；　adorable　。　。　。　Jack　pushed　his　hands　deep　into　the　loden　coat's　pockets　and　pulled　the　coat　tightly　around　him。　Myles　P。　Kiger　of　Ogden；　Illinois；　stared　straight　ahead。
　　'Ahem；'　Kiger　said；　exactly　like　a　man　in　a　ic　book。
　　'Thanks　for　the　coat；'　Jack　said。　'Really。　I'll　be　grateful　to　you　whenever　I　wear　it。'
　　'Sure；　okay；'　Kiger　said；　'forget　it。'　But　for　a　second　his　face　was　oddly　like　poor　Donny　Keegan's；　back　in　the　Sunlight　Home。　'There's　a　place　up　ahead；'　Kiger　said。　His　voice　was　choppy；　abrupt；　full　of　phony　calm。　'We　can　get　some　lunch；　if　you　like。'
　　'I　don't　have　any　money　left；'　Jack　said；　a　statement　exactly　two　dollars　and　thirty…eight　cents　shy　of　the　truth。
　　'Don't　worry　about　it。'　Kiger　had　already　snapped　on　his　turn　indicator。
　　They　drove　into　a　windswept；　nearly　empty　parking　lot　before　a　low　gray　structure　that　looked　like　a　railway　car。　A　neon　sign　above　the　central　door　flashed　EMPIRE　DINER。　Kiger　pulled　up　before　one　of　the　diner's　long　windows　and　they　left　the　car。　This　coat　would　keep　him　warm；　Jack　realized。　His　chest　and　arms　seemed　protected　by　woolen　armor。　Jack　began　to　move　toward　the　door　under　the　flashing　sign；　but　turned　around　when　he　realized　that　Kiger　was　still　standing　beside　the　car。　The　gray…haired　man；　only　an　inch　or　two　taller　t