sk.thetalisman-第87部分

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er　than　Jack；　was　looking　at　him　over　the　car's　top。
　　'Say；'　Kiger　said。
　　'Look；　I'd　be　happy　to　give　you　your　coat　back；'　Jack　said。
　　'No；　that's　yours　now。　I　was　just　thinking　I'm　not　really　hungry　after　all；　and　if　I　keep　on　going　I　can　make　pretty　good　time；　get　home　a　little　earlier。'
　　'Sure；'　Jack　said。
　　'You'll　get　another　ride　here。　Easy。　I　promise。　I　wouldn't　drop　you　here　if　you　were　going　to　be　stranded。'
　　'Fine。'
　　'Hold　on。　I　said　I'd　get　you　lunch；　and　I　will。'　He　put　his　hand　in　his　trouser　pocket；　then　held　a　bill　out　across　the　top　of　the　car　to　Jack。　The　chill　wind　ruffled　his　hair　and　flattened　it　against　his　forehead。　'Take　it。'
　　'No；　honest；'　Jack　said。　'It's　okay。　I　have　a　couple　dollars。'
　　'Get　yourself　a　good　steak；'　Kiger　said；　and　was　leaning　across　the　top　of　the　car　holding　out　the　bill　as　if　offering　a　life　preserver；　or　reaching　for　one。
　　Jack　reluctantly　came　forward　and　took　the　bill　from　Kiger's　extended　fingers。　It　was　a　ten。　'Thanks　a　lot。　I　mean　it。'
　　'Here；　why　don't　you　take　the　paper；　too；　have　something　to　read？　You　know；　if　you　have　to　wait　a　little　or　something。'　Kiger　had　already　opened　his　door；　and　leaned　inside　to　pluck　a　folded　tabloid　newspaper　off　the　back　seat。　'I've　already　read　it。'　He　tossed　it　over　to　Jack。
　　The　pockets　of　the　loden　coat　were　so　roomy　that　Jack　could　slip　the　folded　paper　into　one　of　them。
　　Myles　P。　Kiger　stood　for　a　moment　beside　his　open　car　door；　squinting　at　Jack。　'If　you　don't　mind　my　saying　so；　you're　going　to　have　an　interesting　life；'　he　said。
　　'It's　pretty　interesting　already；'　Jack　said　truthfully。
　　
　　Salisbury　steak　was　five　dollars　and　forty　cents；　and　it　came　with　french　fries。　Jack　sat　at　the　end　of　the　counter　and　opened　the　newspaper。　The　story　was　on　the　second　page…the　day　before；　he　had　seen　it　on　the　first　page　of　an　Indiana　newspaper。　ARRESTS　MADE；　RELATED　TO　SHOCK　HORROR　DEATHS。　Local　Magistrate　Ernest　Fairchild　and　Police　Officer　Frank　B。　Williams　of　Cayuga；　Indiana；　had　been　charged　with　misuse　of　public　monies　and　acceptance　of　bribes　in　the　course　of　the　investigation　of　the　deaths　of　six　boys　at　the　Sunlight　Gardener　Scripture　Home　for　Wayward　Boys。　The　popular　evangelist　Robert　'Sunlight'　Gardener　had　apparently　escaped　from　the　grounds　of　the　Home　shortly　before　the　arrival　of　the　police；　and　while　no　warrants　had　as　yet　been　issued　for　his　arrest　he　was　urgently　being　sought　for　questioning。　WAS　HE　ANOTHER　JIM　JONES？　asked　a　caption　beneath　a　picture　of　Gardener　at　his　most　gorgeous；　arms　outspread；　hair　falling　in　perfect　waves。　Dogs　had　led　the　State　Police　to　an　area　near　the　electrified　fences　where　boy's　bodies　had　been　buried　without　ceremony…five　bodies；　it　appeared；　most　of　them　so　deposed　that　identification　was　not　possible。　They　would　probably　be　able　to　identify　Ferd　Janklow。　His　parents　would　be　able　to　give　him　a　real　burial；　all　the　while　wondering　what　they　had　done　wrong；　exactly；　all　the　while　wondering　just　how　their　love　for　Jesus　had　condemned　their　brilliant；　rebellious　son。
　　When　the　Salisbury　steak　came；　it　tasted　both　salty　and　woolly；　but　Jack　ate　every　scrap。　And　soaked　up　all　the　thick　gravy　with　the　Empire　Diner's　underdone　fries。　He　had　just　about　finished　his　meal　when　a　bearded　trucker　with　a　Detroit　Tigers　cap　shoved　down　over　long　black　hair；　a　parka　that　seemed　to　be　made　from　wolfskins；　and　a　thick　cigar　in　his　mouth　paused　beside　him　and　asked；　'You　need　a　ride　west；　kid？　I'm　going　to　Decatur。'　Halfway　to　Springfield；　just　like　that。
　　　
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　　That　night；　in　a　three…dollar…a…night　hotel　the　trucker　had　told　him　about；　Jack　had　two　distinct　dreams：　or　he　later　remembered　these　two　out　of　many　that　deluged　his　bed；　or　the　two　were　actually　one　long　joined　dream。　He　had　locked　his　door；　peed　into　the　stained　and　cracked　sink　in　the　corner；　put　his　knapsack　under　his　pillow；　and　fallen　asleep　holding　the　big　marble　that　in　the　other　world　was　a　Territories　mirror。　There　had　been　a　suggestion　of　music；　an　almost　cinematic　touch…fiery　alert　bebop；　at　a　volume　so　low　Jack　could　just　pick　out　that　the　lead　instruments　were　a　trumpet　and　an　alto　saxophone。　Richard；　Jack　drowsily　thought；　tomorrow　I　should　be　seeing　Richard　Sloat；　and　fell　down　the　slope　of　the　rhythm　into　brimming　unconsciousness。
　　Wolf　was　trotting　toward　him　across　a　blasted；　smoking　landscape。　Strings　of　barbed　wire；　now　and　then　coiling　up　into　fantastic　and　careless　barbed…wire　intricacies；　separated　them。　Deep　trenches；　too；　divided　the　spoiled　land；　one　of　which　Wolf　vaulted　easily　before　nearly　tumbling　into　one　of　the　ranks　of　wire。
　　…Watch　out；　Jack　called。
　　Wolf　caught　himself　before　falling　into　the　triple　strands　of　wire。　He　waved　one　big　paw　to　show　Jack　that　he　was　unhurt；　and　then　cautiously　stepped　over　the　wires。
　　Jack　felt　an　amazing　surge　of　happiness　and　relief　pass　through　him。　Wolf　had　not　died；　Wolf　would　join　him　again。
　　Wolf　made　it　over　the　barbed　wire　and　began　trotting　forward　again。　The　land　between　Jack　and　Wolf　seemed　mysteriously　to　double　in　length…gray　smoke　hanging　over　the　many　trenches　almost　obscured　the　big　shaggy　figure　ing　forward。
　　…Jason！　Wolf　shouted。　Jason！　Jason！
　　…I'm　still　here；　Jack　shouted　back。
　　…Can't　make　it；　Jason！　Wolf　can't　make　it！
　　…Keep　trying；　Jack　bawled。　Damn　it；　don't　give　up！
　　Wolf　paused　before　an　impenetrable　tangle　of　wire；　and　through　the　smoke　Jack　saw　him　slip　down　to　all　fours　and　trot　back　and　forth；　nosing　for　an　open　place。　From　side　to　side　Wolf　trotted；　each　time　going　out　a　greater　distance；　with　every　second　being　more　evidently　disturbed。　Finally　Wolf　stood　up　again　and　placed　his　hands　on　the　thick　tangle　of　wire　and　forced　a　space　he　could　shout　through。…Wolf　can't！　Jason；　Wolf　can't！
　　…I　love　you；　Wolf；　Jack　shouted　across　the　smouldering　plain。
　　…JASON！　Wolf　bawled　back。　BE　CAREFUL！　They　are　ING　for　you！　There　are　MORE　of　them！
　　…More　what；　Jack　wanted　to　shout；　but　could　not。　He　knew。
　　Then　either　the　whole　character　of　the　dream　changed　or　another　dream　began。　He　was　back　in　the　ruined　recording　studio　and　office　at　the　Sunlight　Home；　and　the　smells　of　gunpowder　and　burned　flesh　crowded　the　air。　Singer's　mutilated　body　lay　slumped　on　the　floor；　and　Casey's　dead　form　drooped　through　the　shattered　glass　panel。　Jack　sat　on　the　floor　cradling　Wolf　in　his　arms；　and　knew　again　that　Wolf　was　dying。　Only　Wolf　was　not　Wolf。
　　Jack　was　holding　Richard　Sloat's　trembling　body；　and　it　was　Richard　who　was　dying。　Behind　the　lenses　of　his　sensible　black　plastic　eyeglasses；　Richard's　eyes　skittered　aimlessly；　painfully。…Oh　no；　oh　no；　Jack　breathed　out　in　horror。　Richard's　arm　had　been　shattered；　and　his　chest　was　a　pulp　of　ruined　flesh　and　bloodstained　white　shirt。　Fractured　bones　glinted　whitely　here　and　there　like　teeth。
　　…I　don't　want　to　die；　Richard　said；　every　word　a　superhuman　effort。　Jason；　you　should　not　。　。　。　you　should　not　have　。　。　。
　　…You　can't　die；　too；　Jack　pleaded；　not　you；　too。
　　Richard's　upper　body　lurched　against　Jack's　arms；　and　a　long；　liquid　sound　escaped　Richard's　throat；　and　then　Richard　found　Jack's　eyes　with　his　own　suddenly　clear　and　quiet　eyes。…Jason。　The　sound　of　the　name；　which　was　almost　appropriate；　hung　softly　in　the　stinking　air。…You　killed　me；　Richard　breathed　out；　or　you　killed　'e；　since　his　lips　could　not　meet　to　form　one　of　the　letters。　Richard's　eyes　swam　out　of　focus　again；　and　his　body　seemed　to　grow　instantly　heavier　in　Jack's　arms。　There　was　no　longer　life　in　that　body。　Jason　DeLoessian　stared　up　in　shock…
　　　
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　　…and　Jack　Sawyer　snapped　upright　in　the　cold；　unfamiliar　bed　of　a　flophouse　in　Decatur；　Illinois；　and　in　the　yellowish　murk　shed　by　a　streetlamp　outside　saw　his　breath　plume　out　as　luxuriantly　as　if　exhaled　from　two　mouths　at　once。　He　kept　himself　from　screaming　only　by　clasping　his　hands；　his　own　two　hands；　and　squeezing　them　together　hard　enough　to　crack　a　walnut。　Another　enormous　white　feather　of　air　steamed　out　of　his　lungs。
　　Richard。
　　Wolf　running　across　that　dead　world；　calling　out　。　。　。　what？
　　Jason。
　　The　boy's　heart　executed　a　quick；　decided　leap；　with　the　kick　of　a　horse　clearing　a　fence。
　　
　　　CHAPTER　29
　　　Richard　at　Thayer
　　　
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　　At　eleven　o'clock　the　next　morning　an　exhausted　Jack　Sawyer　unshouldered　his　pack　at　the　end　of　a　long　playing　field　covered　with　crisp　brown　dead　grass。　Far　away；　two　men　in　plaid　jackets　and　baseball　caps　labored　with　leaf…blower　and　rake　down　on　the　stretch　of　lawn　surrounding　the　most　distant　group　of　buildings。　To　Jack's　left；　directly　behind　the　red…brick　backside　of　the　Thayer　library；　was　the　faculty　parking　lot。　In　the　front　of　Thayer　School　a　great　gate　opened　onto　a　tree…lined　drive　which　circled　around　a　large　quad　crisscrossed　with　narrow　paths。　If　anything　stood　out　on　the　campus；　it　was　the　library…a　Bauhaus　steamship　of　glass　and　steel　and　brick。
　　Jack　had　already　seen　that　a　secondary　gate　opened　onto　another　access　road　before　the　library。　This　ran　two…thirds　the　length　of　the　school　and　ended　at　the　garbage　Dumpsters　nested　in　the　round　cul…de…sac　just　before　the　land　climbed　up　to　form　the　plateau　of　the　football　field。
　　Jack　began　to　move　across　the　top　of　the　field　toward　the　rear　of　the　classroom　buildings。　When　the　Thayerites　began　to　go　to　dining　hall；　he　could　find　Richard's　room…Entry　5；　Nelson　House。
　　The　dry　winter　grass　crunched　beneath　his　feet。　Jack　pulled　Myles　P。　Kiger's　excellent　coat　tightly　about　him…the　coat　at　least　looked　preppy；　if　Jack　did　not。　He　walked　between　Thayer　Hall　and　an　Upper　School　dormitory　named　Spence　House；　in　the　direction　of　the　quad。　Lazy　preluncheon　voices　came　through　the　Spence　House　windows。
　　　
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　　Jack　glanced　toward　the　quad　and　saw　an　elderly　man；　slightly　stooped　and　of　a　greenish…bronze；　standing　on　a　plinth　the　height　of　a　carpenter's　bench　and　examining　the　cover　of　a　heavy　book。　Elder　Thayer；　Jack　surmised。　He　was　dressed　in　the　stiff　collar；　flowing　tie；　and　frock　coat　of　a　New　England　Transcendentalist。　Elder　Thayer's　brass　head　inclined　over　the　volume；　pointed　generally　in　the　direction　of　the　cl