ib.thewaspfactory-第28部分

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in　was　paper　thin。
　　
　　It　had　to　be　fed　every　few　hours　with　some　special　mixture；　and　Eric　was　doing　that　when　it　happened。　He　had　noticed　that　the　child　was　a　little　quieter　than　usual；　just　sitting　there　slackly　in　its　chair　and　staring　straight　ahead；　breathing　lightly；　eyes　glazed　and　an　almost　peaceful　expression　on　its　usually　vacant　face。　It　seemed　to　be　incapable　of　taking　its　food；　though…one　of　the　few　activities　that　normally　it　was　able　to　appreciate　and　even　join　in。　Eric　was　patient；　and　held　the　spoon　in　front　of　its　unfocused　eyes；　he　put　it　to　its　lips　where　normally　the　child　would　have　put　its　tongue　out；　or　try　to　lean　forward　and　take　the　spoon　into　its　mouth；　but　that　night　it　just　sat　there；　not　gurgling；　not　shaking　its　head　or　shifting　or　flapping　its　arms　or　rolling　its　eyes　but　staring　and　staring；　that　curious　look　on　its　face　which　might　have　been　mistaken　for　happiness。
　　
　　Eric　persevered；　sitting　closer；　trying　to　ignore　the　pressing　pain　in　his　own　head　as　the　migraine　got　gradually　worse。　He　spoke　gently　to　the　child…something　that　would　normally　get　it　to　swivel　its　eyes　and　shift　its　head　towards　the　source　of　the　noise；　but　which　that　night　had　no　effect　at　all。　Eric　checked　the　sheet　of　paper　by　the　chair　to　see　if　the　child　had　been　given　any　extra　medication；　but　everything　appeared　normal。　He　edged　closer；　crooning；　waving　the　spoon；　fighting　the　waves　of　pain　inside　his　skull。
　　
　　Then　he　saw　something；　something　like　a　movement；　just　a　tiny　little　movement；　barely　visible　on　the　shaved　head　of　the　slightly　smiling　child。　Whatever　it　was　was　small　and　slow。
　　
　　Eric　blinked；　shook　his　head　to　try　to　dislodge　the　quivering　lights　of　the　migraine　building　inside。　He　stood　up；　still　holding　the　spoon　with　the　mushy　food　on　it。　He　bent　closer　to　the　skull　of　the　child；　looking　closer。　He　couldn't　see　anything；　but　he　looked　round　the　edge　of　the　metal　skull…cap　the　child　wore；　thought　he　saw　something　under　it；　and　lifted　it　easily　from　the　head　of　the　infant　to　see　if　there　was　anything　wrong。
　　
　　A　boiler…room　worker　heard　Eric　screaming　and　rushed　into　the　ward　brandishing　a　big　spanner；　he　found　Eric　crammed　into　a　corner　howling　as　hard　as　he　could　at　the　floor；　his　head　down　between　his　knees　as　he　half…knelt；　half…lay；　foetal　on　the　tiles。　The　chair　the　child　was　in　had　been　tipped　over；　and　it　and　the　strapped…in　child；　who　was　still　smiling；　lay　on　the　floor　a　few　yards　away。
　　
　　The　man　from　the　boiler…room　shook　Eric　but　got　no　response。　Then　he　looked　at　the　child　on　the　chair　and　went　over　to　it；　perhaps　to　right　its　chair；　he　got　within　a　couple　of　feet；　then　rushed　to　the　door；　throwing　up　before　he　got　there。
　　
　　A　ward　sister　from　the　floor　above　found　the　man　in　the　corridor　still　fighting　his　dry　heaves　when　she　came　down　to　see　what　all　the　fuss　was　about。　Eric　had　stopped　screaming　by　that　time　and　gone　quiet。　The　child　was　still　smiling。
　　
　　The　sister　righted　the　child's　chair。　Whether　she　choked　back　any　of　her　own　sickness；　or　felt　dizzy；　or　whether　she　had　seen　as　bad　or　worse　before　and　treated　it　as　just　something　to　be　coped　with；　I　don't　know；　but　she　finally　pulled　things　together；　calling　for　help　on　the　telephone　and　getting　Eric　stiffly　out　of　his　corner。　She　put　him　in　a　seat；　covered　the　child's　head　with　a　towel；　and　forted　the　workman。　She　had　removed　the　spoon　from　the　open　skull　of　the　smiling　infant。　Eric　had　stuck　it　there；　perhaps　thinking　in　that　first　instant　of　his　mania　to　spoon　out　what　he　saw。
　　
　　Flies　had　got　into　the　ward；　presumably　when　the　air…conditioning　had　been　faulty　earlier。　They　had　got　underneath　the　stainless　steel　of　the　child's　skull…cap　and　deposited　their　eggs　there。　What　Eric　saw　when　he　lifted　that　plate　up；　what　he　saw　with　all　that　weight　of　human　suffering　above；　with　all　that　mighty　spread　of　closed…in；　heat…struck　darkened　city　all　around；　what　he　saw　with　his　own　skull　splitting；　was　a　slowly　writhing　nest　of　fat　maggots；　swimming　in　their　bined　digestive　juices　as　they　consumed　the　brain　of　the　child　。
　　
　　In　fact；　Eric　appeared　to　recover　from　what　happened。　He　was　sedated；　he　spent　a　couple　of　nights　in　the　hospital　as　a　patient；　then　a　few　days　resting　in　his　room　in　the　residence。　He　went　back　to　his　studies　within　the　week；　and　attended　classes　as　normal。　A　few　people　knew　something　had　happened；　and　they　saw　that　Eric　was　quieter；　but　that　was　all。　My　father　and　I　didn't　know　anything　except　that　he'd　been　off　from　his　classes　for　a　short　while　because　of　a　migraine。
　　
　　Later　we　heard　Eric　started　drinking　a　lot；　missing　classes；　turning　up　at　the　wrong　ones；　shouting　in　his　sleep　and　waking　other　people　on　his　floor　of　the　residence；　taking　drugs；　missing　exams　and　practical　classes。。。。　In　the　end　the　University　had　to　suggest　he　took　the　rest　of　the　year　off　because　he　had　missed　so　much　work。　Eric　took　it　badly；　he　got　all　his　books　and　piled　them　up　in　the　corridor　outside　his　tutor's　room　and　set　light　to　them。　He　was　lucky　they　didn't　prosecute　him；　but　the　University　authorities　took　a　lenient　view　of　the　smoke　and　the　slight　damage　to　their　ancient　wood　panelling；　and　Eric　came　back　to　the　island。
　　
　　But　not　to　me。　He　refused　to　have　anything　to　do　with　me；　and　kept　himself　locked　in　his　room；　listening　to　his　records　very　loudly　and　hardly　ever　going　out　except　to　the　town；　where　he　was　quickly　banned　from　all　four　pubs　for　starting　fights　and　shouting　and　swearing　at　people。　When　he　did　notice　me　he　would　stare　at　me　with　his　huge　eyes；　or　tap　his　nose　and　wink　slyly。　His　eyes　had　grown　dark…set　and　were　underlined　by　bags；　and　his　nose　seemed　to　twitch　a　lot；　too。　Once　he　picked　me　up　and　gave　me　a　kiss　on　the　lips　which　really　made　me　frightened。
　　
　　My　father　grew　almost　as　unmunicative　as　Eric。　He　settled　into　a　morose　existence　of　long　walks　and　dour；　introspective　silences。　He　started　smoking　cigarettes；　virtually　chain…smoking　for　a　while。　For　a　month　or　so　the　house　was　hell　to　be　in；　and　I　went　out　a　lot；　or　stayed　in　my　room　and　watched　television。
　　
　　Then　Eric　took　to　frightening　small　boys　from　the　town；　first　by　throwing　worms　at　them；　then　by　stuffing　worms　down　their　shirts　as　they　came　back　from　school。　Some　of　the　parents；　a　teacher　and　Diggs　came　to　the　island　to　see　my　father　once　Eric　started　trying　to　force　the　kids　to　eat　the　worms　and　handfuls　of　maggots。　I　sat　sweating　in　my　room　while　they　met　in　the　lounge　underneath；　the　parents　shouting　at　my　father。　Eric　was　talked　to　by　the　doctor；　by　Diggs；　even　by　a　social　worker　from　Inverness；　but　he　didn't　say　much；　he　just　sat　smiling　and　sometimes　mentioned　how　much　protein　there　was　in　worms。　Once　he　came　back　to　the　house　all　battered　and　bleeding；　and　my　father　and　I　assumed　some　of　the　bigger　boys　or　a　few　of　the　parents　had　caught　him　and　beaten　him。
　　
　　Apparently　dogs　had　been　disappearing　from　the　town　for　a　couple　of　weeks　before　some　children　saw　my　brother　pouring　a　can　of　petrol　over　a　little　Yorkshire　terrier　and　setting　fire　to　it。　Their　parents　believed　them　and　went　looking　for　Eric；　to　find　him　doing　the　same　thing　with　an　old　mongrel　he　had　tempted　with　aniseed　balls　sweeties；　and　caught。　They　chased　him　through　the　woods　behind　the　town　but　lost　him。
　　
　　Diggs　came　to　the　island　again　that　evening　to　tell　us　he　had　e　to　arrest　Eric　for　disturbing　the　peace。　He　waited　until　quite　late；　only　accepting　a　couple　of　the　whiskies　my　father　offered　him；　but　Eric　did　not　return。　Diggs　left；　and　my　father　waited　up；　but　still　Eric　didn't　show。　It　was　three　days　and　five　dogs　later　before　he　came　back；　haggard　and　unwashed　and　smelling　of　petrol　and　smoke；　his　clothes　all　torn　and　his　face　lean　and　filthy。　My　father　heard　him　e　in　early　in　the　morning；　raid　the　fridge；　gulp　down　several　meals　at　once；　and　stamp　upstairs　to　bed。
　　
　　My　father　crept　down　to　the　phone　and　called　Diggs；　who　arrived　before　breakfast。　Eric　must　have　heard　or　seen　something；　though；　because　he　went　out　through　his　room　window　and　down　the　drainpipe　to　the　ground；　and　made　off　with　Diggs's　bike。　It　was　another　week　and　two　more　dogs　before　he　was　finally　caught；　siphoning　petrol　from　somebody's　car　in　the　street。　They　broke　his　jaw　in　the　process　of　making　their　citizen's　arrest；　and　this　time　Eric　didn't　get　away。
　　
　　A　few　months　later　he　was　certified　insane。　He　had　had　all　sorts　of　tests；　tried　to　escape　countless　times；　assaulted　male　nurses　and　social　workers　and　doctors；　and　threatened　all　of　them　with　legal　action　and　assassination。　He　was　moved　to　gradually　more　and　more　long…term　and　secure　institutions　as　his　tests　and　threats　and　struggles　continued。　My　father　and　I　heard　that　he　quieted　down　a　lot　once　he　settled　into　the　hospital　to　the　south　of　Glasgow　and　no　longer　made　his　escape　attempts；　but　looking　back　he　was　probably　just　trying…successfully；　it　would　seem…to　lull　his　keepers　into　a　false　sense　of　security。
　　
　　And　now　he　was　making　his　way　back　to　see　us。
　　
　　I　swept　my　binoculars　slowly　across　the　land　in　front　and　beneath　me；　from　north　to　south；　from　haze　to　haze；　across　the　town　and　the　roads　and　the　railway　and　the　fields　and　the　sands；　and　I　wondered　if　under　my　gaze　at　any　point　came　the　place　where　Eric　was　now；　if　he　had　got　this　far　already。　I　felt　he　was　close。　I　didn't　have　any　good　reason；　but　he　had　had　the　time；　the　call　of　last　night　sounded　clearer　than　the　others　he　had　made；　and。。。　I　just　felt　it。　He　might　be　here　now；　lying　up　waiting　for　night　before　he　moved；　or　skulking　through　the　woods　or　through　the　whin　bushes　or　within　the　hollows　of　the　dunes；　heading　for　the　house　or　looking　for　dogs。
　　
　　I　walked　along　the　ridge　of　hills；　then　came　down　a　few　miles　south　of　the　town；　down　through　the　ranks　of　conifers　where　distant　buzz…saws　sounded　and　the　dark　masses　of　the　trees　were　shady　and　quiet。　I　went　across　the　railway　line　and　over　a　few　fields　of　swaying　barley；　across　the　road　and　over　the　rough　sheep…pasture　to　the　sands。
　　
　　My　feet　were　sore　and　my　legs　ached　slightly　as　I　walked　along　the　line　of　hard　sand　on　the　beach。　A　slight　wind　had　e　up　off　the　s