dk.coldfire-第57部分
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She was living in a society where the streets were crawling with casualties of the drug wars； some of them so brain…blasted that they might well pick up a gun and go looking for the rat people who were working with the CIA； running spy networks out of burger restaurants。
She had worked on newspapers all her adult life。 She had seen stories no less tragic； no more strange。
After about fifteen minutes； she couldn't bear to think about the nightù mare any more； not for a while。 Instead of getting a handle on it through analysis； she became more confused and distressed the longer she dwelt on it。 In memory； the images of slaughter did not fade； as was usually the case with a dream； but became more vivid。 She didn't need to puzzle it out right now。
Jim was sleeping； and she considered waking him。 But he needed his rest as much as she did。 There was no sign of The Enemy making use of a dream doorway； no change in the limestone walls or the oak…plank floor； so she let Jim sleep。
As she had looked around the room； studying the walls； she had noticed the yellow tablet lying on the floor under the far window。 She had pitched it aside last evening when The Friend had resisted vocalizing its answers and had tried； instead； to present her with responses to all her written questions at once； before she was able to read them aloud。
She'd never had a chance to ask it all of the questions on her list； and now she wondered what might be on that answer…tablet。
She eased off her bedding as quietly as possible； rose； and walked carefully across the room。 She tested the floorboards as she went to make sure they weren't going to squeak when she put her full weight on them。
As she stooped to pick up the tablet； she heard a sound that froze her。
Like a heartbeat with an extra thump in it。
She looked around at the walls； up at the dome。 The light from the highburning lantern and the windows was sufficient to be certain that the limestone was only limestone； the wood only wood。
Lub…dub…DUB； lub…dub…DUB。 。 。
It was faint； as if someone was tapping the rhythm out on a drum far away； outside the mill； somewhere up in the dry brown hills。
But she knew what it was。 No drum。 It was the tripartite beat that always preceded the materialization of The Enemy。 Just as the bells had； until its final visit； preceded the arrival of The Friend。
As she listened； it faded away。
She strained to hear it。
Gone。
Relieved but still trembling； she picked up the tablet。 The pages were rumpled； and they made some noise falling into place。
Jim's steady breathing continued to echo softly around the room； with no change of rhythm or pitch。
Holly read the answers on the first page； then the second。 She saw that they were the same responses The Friend had vocalized…although without the spur…of the…moment questions that she had not written down on the question…tablet。 She skimmed down the third and fourth pages； on which it had listed the people Jim had saved…Carmen Diaz； Amanda Cutter； Steven Aimes； Laura Lenaskian…explaining what great things each of them was destined to achieve。
Lub…dub…DUB； lub…dub…DUB； lub…dub…DUB。 。 。
She snapped her head up。
The sound was still distant； no louder than before。
Jim groaned in his sleep。
Holly took a step away from the window； intending to wake him； but the dreaded sound faded away again。 Evidently The Enemy was in the neighborhood； but it had not found a doorway in Jim's dream。 He had to get his sleep； he couldn't function without it。 She decided to let him alone。
Easing back to the window again； Holly held the answer…tablet up to the light。 She turned to the fifth page…and felt the flesh on the nape of her neck go as cold and nubbly as frozen turkey skin。
Peeling the pages back with great delicacy； so as not to rustle them more than absolutely necessary； she checked the sixth page； the seventh； the eighth。 They were all the same。 Messages were printed on them in the wavery hand that The Friend had used when pulling its little words…risingas…if…through…water trick。 But they were not answers to her questions。
They were two alternating statements； unpunctuated； each repeated three times per page： HE LOVES YOU HOLLY HE WILL KILL YOU HOLLY HE LOVES YOU HOLLY HE WILL KILL YOU HOLLY HE LOVES YOU HOLLY HE WILL KILL YOU HOLLY Staring at those obsessively repeated statements； she knew that 〃he〃 could be no one but Jim。 She focused only on the five hateful words； trying to understand。
And suddenly she thought that she did。 The Friend was warning her that in its madness it would act against her； perhaps because it hated her for bringing Jim to the mill； for making him seek answers； and for being a distraction from his mission。 If The Friend； which was the sane half of the alien consciousness； could reach into Jim's mind and pel him to undertake life…saving missions； was it possible that The Enemy； the dark half； could reach into his mind and pel him to kill？ Instead of the insane personality materializing in monstrous form as it had done for an instant at the motel Friday night and as it attempted to do in Jim's bedroom yesterday； might it choose to use Jim against her； take mand of him to a greater extent than The Friend had ever done； and turn him into a killing machine？ That might perversely delight the mad…child aspect of the entity。
She shook herself as if casting off a pestering wasp。
No。 It was impossible。 All right； Jim could kill in the defense of innocent people。 But he was incapable of killing someone innocent。 No alien consciousness； no matter how powerful； could override his true nature。 In his heart he was good and kind and caring。
His love for her could not be subverted by this alien force； no matter how strong it was。
But how did she know that？ She was engaging in wishful thinking。
For all she knew； The Enemy's powers of mental control were so awesome that it could reach into her brain right now and tell her to drown herself in the pond； and she would do as told。
She remembered Norman Rink。 The Atlanta convenience store。 Jim had pumped eight rounds from a shotgun into the guy； blasting at him again and again； long after he was dead。
Lub…dub…DUB； lub…dub…DUB。 。 。
Still far away。
Jim groaned softly。
She moved away from the window again； intent on waking him； and almost called out his name； before she realized that The Enemy might be in him already。 Dreams are doorways。 She didn't have a clue as to what The Friend meant by that； or if it was anything more than stage dressing like the bells。 But maybe what it had meant was that The Enemy could enter the dreamer's dream and thus the dreamer's mind。 Maybe this time The Enemy did not intend to materialize from the wall but from Jim； in the person of Jim； in total control of Jim； just for a murderous little lark。
Lub…dub…DUB； ！ub…dub…DUB； lub…dub…DUB。 。 。
A little louder； a little closer？ Holly felt that she was losing her mind。 Paranoid； schizoid； flat…out crazy。 No better than The Friend and his other half She was frantically trying to understand a totally alien consciousness； and the more she pondered the possibilities； the stranger and more varied the possibilities became。 In an infinite universe； anything can happen； any nightmare can be made flesh。 In an infinite universe； life was therefore essentially the same as a dream。 Contemplation of that under the stress of a life…or…death situation； was guaranteed to drive you bugshit。
Lub…dub…DUB； lub…dub…DUB。 。 。
She could not move。
She could only wait。
The tripartite beat faded again。
Letting her breath out in a rush； she backed up against the wall beside the window； less afraid of the limestone now than she was of Jim Ironheart。 She wondered if it was all right to wake him when the threenote heartbeat was not audible。 Maybe The Enemy was only in his dream …and therefore in him…when that triple thud could be heard。
Afraid to act and afraid not to act； she glanced down at the tablet in her hand。 Some of the pages had fallen shut； and she was no longer looking at the HE LOVES YOU HOLLY/HE WILL KILL YOU HOLLY litany。
Before her eyes； instead； was the list of people who had been saved by Jim； along with The Friend's grandiose explanations of their importance。
She saw 〃Steven Aimes〃 and realized at once that he was the only one on the list whose fate The Friend had not vocalized during one or another of their conversations last night。 She remembered him because he was the only older person on the list； fifty…seven。 She read the words under his name； and the chill that had touched her nape earlier was nothing pared to the spike of ice that drove through it now and pierced her spine。
Steven Aimes had not been saved because he would father a child who would be a great diplomat or a great artist or a great healer。 He had not been saved because he would make an enduring contribution to the welfare of mankind。 The reason for his salvation was expressed in just eleven words； the most horrifying eleven words that Holly had ever read or hoped to read： BECAUSE HE LOOKS LIKE MY FATHER WHOM I FAILED TO SAVE。
Not 〃like Jim 's father〃 which The Friend would have said。 Not 〃whom he failed to save；〃 as the alien would surely have put it MY FATHER。 I FAILED。 MY。 I。
The infinite universe just kept expanding； and now an entirely new possibility presented itself to her； revealed in the telling words about Steven Aimes。 No starship rested under the pond。 No alien had been in hiding on the farm for ten thousand years； ten years； or ten days。 The Friend and The Enemy were real enough： they were thirds； not halves； of the same personality； three in one entity； an entity with enormous and wonderful and terrifying powers； an entity both godlike and yet as human as Holly was。 Jim Ironheart。 Who had been shattered by tragedy when he was ten years old。 Who had painstakingly put himself together again with the help of a plex fantasy about star…traveling gods。 Who was as insane and dangerous as he was sane and loving。
She did not understand where he had gotten the power that he so obviously possessed； or why he was not aware whatsoever that the power was within him rather than ing from some imag
