dk.coldfire-第46部分

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　〃Ironheart　Farm；〃　he　said；　startling　her。　
　As　Jim　slowed　the　Ford；　Holly　looked　to　the　left　of　the　blacktop　county　route。　
　A　farmhouse　stood　a　hundred　feet　back　from　the　road；　behind　a　withered　lawn。　It　was　of　no　particular　architectural　style；　just　a　plain　but　cozy…looking　two…story　farmhouse　with　white　aluminum　siding；　a　red…shingle　roof；　and　a　modious　front　porch。　It　might　have　been　lifted　off　its　foundation　anywhere　in　the　Midwest　and　plunked　down　on　new　footings　here；　for　there　were　thousands　like　it　in　those　cornbelt　states。　
　Maybe　a　hundred　yards　to　the　left　of　the　house；　a　red　barn　rose　to　a　tarnished　horse…and…carriage　weather　vane　at　the　pinnacle　of　its　peaked　roof　It　was　not　huge；　only　half　again　as　large　as　the　unimposing　house。　
　Behind　the　house　and　barn；　visible　between　them；　was　the　pond；　and　the　structure　at　its　far　side　was　the　most　arresting　sight　on　the　farm。　
　The　windmill。　
　Jim　stopped　in　the　driveway　turnaround　between　house　and　barn；　and　got　out　of　the　Ford。　He　had　to　get　out　because　the　sight　of　the　old　place　hit　him　harder　than　he　had　expected；　simultaneously　bringing　a　chill　to　the　pit　of　his　stomach　and　a　flush　of　heat　to　his　face。　In　spite　of　the　cool　draft　from　the　dashboard　vents；　the　air　in　the　car　seemed　warm　and　stale；　too　low　in　oxygen　content　to　sustain　him。　He　stood　in　the　fresh　summer　air；　drawing　deep　breaths；　and　tried　not　to　lose　control　of　himself　The　blank…windowed　house　held　little　power　over　him。　When　he　looked　at　it；　he　felt　only　a　sweet　melancholy　that　might；　given　time；　deepen　into　a　more　disturbing　sadness　or　even　despair。　But　he　could　stare　at　it；　draw　his　breath　normally；　and　turn　away　from　it　without　being　seized　by　a　powerful　urge　to　look　at　it　again。　
　The　barn　exerted　no　emotional　pull　on　him　whatsoever；　but　the　windmill　was　another　story。　When　he　turned　his　gaze　on　that　cone　of　limestone　beyond　the　wide　pond；　he　felt　as　though　he　were　being　transformed　into　stone　himself；　as　had　been　the　luckless　victims　of　the　mythological　serpenthaired　Medusa　when　they　had　seen　her　snake…ringed　face。　
　He'd　read　about　Medusa　years　ago。　In　one　of　Mrs。　Glynn's　books。　
　That　was　in　the　days　when　he　wished　with　all　his　heart　that　he；　too；　could　see　the　snake…haired　woman　and　be　transformed　into　unfeeling　rock。　
　。　。　。　
　〃Jim？〃　Holly　said　from　the　other　side　of　the　car。　〃You　okay？〃　With　its　high…ceilinged　rooms…highest　on　the　first　floor　the　two…story　mill　was　actually　four　stories　in　height。　But　to　Jim；　at　that　moment；　it　looked　far　taller；　as　imposing　as　a　twenty…story　tower。　Its　once…pale　stones　had　been　darkened　by　a　century　of　grime。　Climbing　ivy；　roots　nurtured　by　the　pond　that　abutted　one　flank　of　the　mill；　twined　up　the　rough　stone　face；　finding　easy　purchase　in　deep…mortared　joints。　
　With　no　one　to　perform　needed　maintenance；　the　plant　had　covered　half　the　structure；　and　had　grown　entirely　over　a　narrow　first…floor　window　near　the　timbered　door。　
　The　wooden　sails　looked　rotten。　Each　of　those　four　arms　was　about　thirty　feet　in　length；　making　a　sixty…foot　spread　across　adjoining　spans；　and　each　was　five　feet　wide　with　three　rows　of　vanes。　Since　he　had　last　seen　the　mill；　more　vanes　had　cracked　or　fallen　away　altogether。　The　time…frozen　sails　were　stopped　not　in　a　cruciform　but　toward　the　open　door。　
　〃e　on；　let's　get　this　place　cleaned　up；　move　in。　We　want　to　be　ready　for　whatever's　going　to　happen　next。〃　
　She　followed　him　to　the　head　of　the　steps　but　stopped　there　and　watched　him　descend　two　at　a　time；　with　the　air　of　a　kid　excited　by　the　prospect　of　adventure。　All　of　his　misgivings　about　the　mill　and　his　fear　of　The　Enemy　seemed　to　have　evaporated　like　a　few　beads　of　water　on　a　red…hot　griddle。　
　His　emotional　roller　coaster　was　cresting　the　highest　point　on　the　track　thus　far。　
　Sensing　something　above　her　head；　Holly　looked　up。　A　large　web　had　been　spun　above　the　door；　across　the　curve　where　the　wall　became　the　ceiling。　
　A　fat　spider；　its　body　as　big　around　as　her　thumbnail　and　its　spindly　legs　almost　as　long　as　her　little　finger；　greasy　as　a　dollop　of　wax　and　dark　as　a　drop　of　blood；　was　feeding　greedily　on　the　pale　quivering　body　of　a　snared　moth。　
　With　a　broom；　dustpan；　bucket　of　water；　mop；　and　a　few　rags；　they　made　the　small　upper　chamber　livable　in　short　order。　Jim　even　brought　some　Windex　and　paper　towels　from　the　store　of　cleaning　supplies　at　the　house；　so　they　could　scrub　the　grime　off　the　windows；　letting　in　a　lot　more　light。　
　Holly　chased　down　and　killed　not　only　the　spider　above　the　door　but　seven　others；　checking　darker　corners　with　one　of　the　flashlights　until　she　was　sure　she　had　found　them　all。　
　Of　course　the　mill　below　them　was　surely　crawling　with　countless　other　spiders。　She　decided　not　to　think　about　that。　
　By　six　o'clock；　the　day　was　waning　but　the　room　was　bright　enough　without　the　Coleman　lantern。　They　were　sitting　Indian　fashion　on　their　inflatable…mattress　sleeping　bags；　with　the　big　cooler　between　them。　
　Using　the　closed　lid　as　a　table；　they　made　thick　sandwiches；　opened　the　potato　chips　and　cheese　twists；　and　popped　the　tops　off　cans　of　root　beer。　Though　she　had　missed　lunch；　Holly　had　not　thought　about　food　until　they'd　begun　to　prepare　it。　Now　she　was　hungrier　than　she　would　have　expected　under　the　circumstances。　Everything　was　delicious；　better　than　gourmet　fare。　Olive　loaf　and　cheese　on　white　bread；　with　mustard；　recalled　for　her　the　appetites　of　childhood；　the　intense　flavors　and　forgotten　innocent　sensuality　of　youth。　
　They　did　not　talk　much　as　they　ate。　Silences　did　not　make　either　of　them　feel　awkward；　and　they　were　taking　such　primal　pleasure　from　the　me　that　no　conversation；　regardless　of　how　witty；　could　have　improved　the　moment。　But　that　was　only　part　of　the　reason　for　their　mutual　reticence。　
　Holly；　at　least；　was　also　unable　to　think　what　to　say　under　these　bizarre　circumstances；　sitting　in　the　high　room　of　a　crumbling　old　mill；　waiting　for　an　encounter　with　something　supernatural。　No　small　talk　of　any　kind　was　adequate　to　the　moment；　and　a　serious　discussion　of　just　about　anything　would　seem　ludicrous。　
　〃I　feel　sort　of　foolish；〃　she　said　eventually。　
　〃Me；　too；〃　he　admitted。　〃Just　a　little。〃　
　At　seven　o'clock；　when　she　was　opening　the　box　of　chocolate…covered　doughnuts；　she　suddenly　realized　the　mill　had　no　lavatory。　〃What　about　a　bathroom？〃　He　picked　up　his　ring　of　keys　from　the　floor　and　handed　them　to　her。　
　〃Go　on　over　to　the　house。　The　plumbing　works。　There's　a　half　bath　right　off　the　kitchen。〃　
　She　realized　the　room　was　filling　with　shadows；　and　when　she　glanced　at　the　window；　she　saw　that　twilight　had　arrived。　Putting　the　doughnuts　aside；　she　said；　〃I　want　to　zip　over　there　and　get　back　before　dark。〃　
　〃Go　ahead。〃　Jim　raised　one　hand　as　if　pledging　allegiance　to　the　flag。　
　〃I　swear　on　all　that　I　hold　sacred；　I'll　leave　you　at　least　one　doughnut。〃　
　〃Half　the　box　better　be　there　when　I　get　back；〃　she　said；　〃or　I'll　kick　your　butt　all　the　way　into　Svenborg　to　buy　more。〃　
　〃You　take　your　doughnuts　seriously。〃　
　〃Damn　right。〃　
　He　smiled。　〃I　like　that　in　a　woman。〃　
　Taking　a　flashlight　to　negotiate　the　mill　below；　she　rose　and　went　to　the　door。　〃Better　start　up　the　Coleman。〃　
　〃Sure　thing。　When　you　get　back；　it'll　be　a　right　cozy　little　campsite。〃　
　Descending　the　narrow　stairs；　Holly　began　to　worry　about　being　separated　from　Jim；　and　step　by　step　her　anxiety　increased。　She　was　not　afraid　of　being　alone。　What　bothered　her　was　leaving　him　by　himself　Which　was　ridiculous。　He　was　a　grown　man　and　far　more　capable　of　effective　self　defense　than　was　the　average　person。　
　The　lower　floor　of　the　mill　was　much　darker　than　when　she　had　first　seen　it。　Curtained　with　cobwebs；　the　dirty　windows　admitted　almost　none　of　the　weak　light　of　dusk。　
　As　she　crossed　toward　the　arched　opening　to　the　antechamber；　she　was　overe　by　a　creepy　sense　of　being　watched。　She　knew　they　were　alone　in　the　mill；　and　she　chided　herself　for　being　such　a　ninny。　But　by　the　time　she　reached　the　archway；　her　apprehension　had　swelled　until　she　could　not　resist　the　urge　to　turn　and　shine　the　flashlight　into　the　chamber　behind　her。　
　Shadows　were　draped　across　the　old　machinery　as　copiously　as　black　crepe　in　an　amusement…park　haunted　house；　they　slid　aside　when　the　flashlight　beam　touched　them；　fell　softly　back　into　place　as　the　beam　moved　on。　
　Each　corner；　undraped；　revealed　no　spy。　Someone　could　be　sheltering　behind　one　part　of　the　millworks　or　another；　and　she　considered　prowling　through　the　ruins　in　search　of　an　intruder。　
　But　abruptly　she　felt　foolish；　too　easily　spooked。　Wondering　what　had　happened　to　the　intrepid　reporter　she　had　once　been；　Holly　left　the　mill。　
　The　sun　was　beyond　the　mountains。　The　sky　was　purple　and　that　deep　iridescent　blue　seen　in　old　Maxfield　Parrish　paintings。　A　few　toads　were　croaking　from　their　shadowy　niches　along　the　banks　of　the　pond。　
　All　the　way　around　the　water；　past　the　barn；　to　the　back　door　of　the　house；　Holly　continued　to　feel　watched。　However；　though　it　was　possible　that　someone　might　be　lurking　in　the　mill；　it　was　not　too　likely　that　a　virtual　platoon　of　spies　had　taken　up　positions　in　the　barn；　the　surrounding　fields；　and　the　distant　hills；　intent　on　observing　her　every　move。　
　〃Idiot；〃　she　said　self　mockingly　as　she　used　one　of　Jim's　keys　to　open　the　back　door。　
　Though　she　had　the　flashlight；　she　tried　the　wall　switch　unthinkingly。　
　She　was　surprised　to　discover　that　the　electrical　service　was　still　connected。　
　She　was　more　surprised；　however；　by　what　the　light　revealed：　a　fully　furnished　kitchen。　A　breakfast　table　and　four　chairs　stood　by　the　window。　
　Copper　pots　and　pans　dangled　from　a　ceiling　fixture；　and　twin　racks　of　knives　and　other　utensils　hung　on　the　wall　near　the　cooktop。　A　toaster；　toaster　oven；　and　blender　stood　on　the　counters。　A　shopping　list　of　about　fifteen　items　was　affixed　to　the　refrigerator　with　a　magnet　in　the　shape　of　a　can　of　Budweiser。　
　Hadn't　Jim　gotten　rid　of　his　grandparents'　belongings　when　they　had　died　five　years　ago？　Holly　ran　a　finger　along　one　of　the　counters；　drawing　a　line　through　the　thin　coat　of　dust。　But　it　was；　at　most；　a　three…month　accumulation；　not　five　years'　worth　of　dirt。