pzb.drawingblood-第31部分

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　sneakers　off；　pulled　his　shirt　over　his　head；　stuck　his　glasses　in　his　pocket；　and　started　unbuttoning　his　pants。　Trevor　followed；　looking　doubtful。　〃Are　you　going　to　get　naked？〃
　　Zach　undid　the　last　button　and　let　his　cutoffs　fall。　He　wasn't　wearing　any　underwear。　Trevor　raised　his　eyebrows；　then　shrugged；　unbuckled　his　jeans；　and　pushed　them　down　over　his　skinny　hips。　If　he'd　grown　up　in　an　orphanage；　male　nudity　was　probably　no　big　deal　to　him。
　　The　rain　sluiced　over　their　bodies；　washing　away　the　grime　of　the　road　and　the　old　crumbling　house。　Trevor　was　only　a　wet　blur　several　feet　away；　Zach　could　barely　see　him　flinging　his　arms　about　as　if　dancing　or　performing　some　wild　invocation。
　　Zach　raised　his　face　to　the　downpour　and　let　it　fill　the　tired　hollows　of　his　eyes；　wash　the　taste　of　smoke　from　his　lips。　He　was　not　aware　that　he　was　grinning　like　a　fool　until　he　felt　rain　trickling　between　his　teeth；　over　his　tongue；　and　down　his　throat　in　a　little　silver　river。
　　
　　　
　　　Chapter　Eleven
　　
　　Kinsey　was　mopping　up　the　last　of　the　water　as　the　early　evening　barflies　began　to　drift　in。　Terry　was　closing　up　shop　at　the　Whirling　Disc　and　wishing　Steve　Finn　were　in　town。　The　new　guy　had　fucked　up　an　invoice　and　ordered　twenty　copies　of　Louie's　Limbo　Lounge；　an　obscure　album　of　exquisitely　bad　strip…club　music；　instead　of　the　two　Terry　had　meant　to　special…order。　Now　they　could　hear　such　classics　as　〃Torture　Rock；〃　〃Beaver　Shot；〃　and　the　amazing　〃Hooty　Sapper…ticker〃　by　Barbara　&　the　Boys　whenever　they　so　desired。
　　Terry　started　to　call　Poindexter's　in　Durham　to　see　if　they　wanted　any；　but　decided　fuck　it　and　went　instead　to　buy　his　girl　a　beer。　A　gaudy　sunset　bathed　the　downtown　in　red　and　purple　light；　and　the　slowly　darkening　streets　glistened　with　the　rain　that　had　fallen　all　afternoon。
　　One　by　one　the　streetlights　flickered　on。　Terry　remembered　a　summer　two　or　three　years　ago　when　there　had　been　a　plague　of　Luna　moths。　The　huge　insects　beat　against　windows　and　swarmed　around　streetlights；　their　broad　fragile　wings　catching　the　light　and　making　it　shift　strangely；　their　color　like　nothing　else　in　nature…the　palest　silver…green；　the　color　of　ectoplasm　or　the　glow　of　radiation。　You　could　find　drifts　of　them　tattered　and　dead　in　the　gutter；　their　fat　furred　bodies　shriveled　to　husks。
　　Soon　a　flock　of　bats　descended　upon　the　town；　roosting　in　the　treetops　and　church　bell　towers　by　day；　swooping　out　at　night　to　catch　the　Luna　moths　in　their　tiny　razored　jaws。　If　the　show　at　the　Sacred　Yew　was　boring；　the　kids　would　congregate　on　the　street　and　watch　the　shadowplay　of　leathery　and　iridescent　wings；　strain　to　hear　the　high　needling　squeal　of　the　bats　over　the　churn　of　guitars　and　percussion　from　the　club。　One　night　Ghost　had　mused　aloud　that　to　the　bats；　the　moths'　blood　must　taste　like　creme　de　menthe。
　　Terry　wondered　what　had　bee　of　the　new　kids。　He　thought　Zach　might　have　just　hit　the　other　side　of　town　and　kept　driving；　that　boy　looked　like　he　might　have　someplace　to　be　in　a　hurry。　And　he　guessed　Trevor　was　still　out　at　the　murder　house。　Hell　of　a　thing；　Bobby　McGee's　son　ing　back　after　all　these　years。
　　Well；　Kinsey　would　know　the　lowdown。　Terry　hastened　his　step　toward　the　Yew；　toward　friends　and　music　and　the　taste　of　a　cold　beer　in　his　favorite　bar　on　a　summer's　evening。
　　
　　By　ten　o'clock　Terry　had　had　five　cold　beers　and　had　forgotten　all　about　Zach。　But　Zach　had　not　hit　the　other　side　of　town；　had　not　even　returned　to　his　car　except　to　check　the　locks　and　pull　it　around　to　the　side　of　the　house。　He　had　found　a　place　he　liked；　and　he　had　every　intention　of　setting　up　camp　here　for　a　few　days　unless　Trevor　objected。　But　he　didn't　think　Trevor　would。
　　When　they　came　in　from　the　rainstorm；　Trevor　excused　himself　to　put　on　dry　clothes　and　disappeared　down　the　hall。　Zach　followed　a　few　minutes　later　and　found　him　sprawled　on　a　bare　mattress　in　one　of　the　back　bedrooms。　Naked　and　almost　painfully　thin；　long　hair　spread　out　around　his　head　like　a　corona；　he　was　already　deeply　asleep。
　　Zach　watched　him　for　several　moments　but　could　not　disturb　him。　Trevor　had　spent　the　last　three　nights　sleeping　on　a　Greyhound　bus；　a　couch；　and　a　drawing　table；　he　deserved　some　bed　rest。　Zach　got　one　of　Kinsey's　blankets　and　covered　him。　As　he　did　so　he　saw　gooseflesh　shivering　across　Trevor's　chest；　water　droplets　still　caught　in　the　cup　of　his　navel　and　the　damp　tangle　of　his　pubic　hair。　He　imagined　the　salty　taste　those　droplets　would　have　if　he　were　to　bend　down　and　lick　them　away。
　　Now　you　want　to　molest　him　in　his　sleep。　It　was　Eddy's　voice；　out　of　nowhere。　Christ；　Zach；　why　don't　you　just　buy　a　blow…up　love　doll　on　Bourbon　Street　and　be　done　with　it？
　　Fuck　you；　Eddy。
　　As　he　turned　away　from　the　bed　he　noticed　drawings　tacked　to　the　walls。　Monsters　and　fanciful　houses；　unfamiliar　landscapes。　And　faces；　all　kinds　of　faces。　A　child's　drawings…but　a　child　with　obvious　talent；　with　an　eye　for　line　and　proportion；　with　an　untrammeled　imagination。　This　was　Trevor's　own　room。
　　Zach　left　Trevor　to　sleep　and　started　exploring　the　house。　At　the　end　of　the　hall　was　the　bathroom　where　Bobby　had　died。　There　was　no　window　in　this　room；　and　Zach　did　not　think　to　try　the　switch。　He　stood　on　the　threshold　staring　into　the　unlit　chamber；　saw　porcelain　gleaming　dully　beneath　layers　of　dirt　and　cobweb。　The　shower　curtain　rod　was　bent；　almost　buckled。　Zach　wondered　if　Trevor　had　seen　that　yet。
　　Something　about　the　bathroom's　geometry　seemed　wrong；　as　if　the　angle　at　which　walls　met　ceiling　were　slightly　skewed。　It　made　Zach　feel　dizzy；　almost　nauseated。　He　turned　away　and　went　into　the　room　across　the　hall；　which　was　the　studio。　He　saw　Trevor's　sketchbook　lying　open　on　the　drawing　table　and　slowly　flipped　through　the　pages。　The　drawings　were　very　good。　Zach　had　read　one　issue　of　Birdland；　and　he　thought　Trevor's　style　was　already　technically　better　than　Bobby's。　The　lines　were　surer；　the　faces　finer　and　more　subtle；　with　layer　upon　layer　of　nuance　lurking　in　the　expressions　he　captured。
　　But　Bobby's　work　had　always　had　a　certain　fractured　warmth　to　it。　No　matter　how　sordid　and　vile　his　characters　were…the　junkies　and　glib　beatniks　and　talking　saxophones　who　got　laid　more　often　than　their　human　counterparts…you　always　felt　they　were　pawns　in　an　indifferent　universe；　butts　of　an　existential　joke　with　no　punch　line。　Trevor's　work　was　harsher；　icier。　His　universe　was　not　indifferent　but　cruel。　He　knew　his　punch　line：　the　crumpled；　bleeding　woman　in　the　doorway；　the　broken　bodies　of　the　musicians；　the　burning　cops。
　　And　others；　as　Zach　paged　back　through　the　book。　So　many　others。　So　many　beautifully　drawn　dead　bodies。
　　He　checked　out　the　master　bedroom　and　its　walk…in　closet；　saw　little　of　interest…the　parents　hadn't　brought　much　of　their　own　stuff；　probably；　after　fitting　Bobby's　art　supplies　and　the　kids'　things　in　the　car　there　wouldn't　have　been　much　space　left。
　　He　crossed　the　hall　to　Didi's　room；　stopped　dead　on　the　threshold　and　stared　at　the　huge　dark　mass　boiling　through　the　window；　then　realized　it　was　kudzu。　Zach　wondered　how　long　it　would　be　before　the　vines　filled　the　room　from　floor　to　ceiling。　He　took　in　the　bloodstain　on　the　mattress；　the　spatters　high　on　the　wall。　Trevor　said　the　hammer　had　appeared　in　the　opposite　corner；　next　to　the　small　closet。　Zach　looked　at　the　area；　even　prodded　the　kudzu　with　the　toe　of　his　sneaker；　but　found　nothing　unusual。
　　He　had　heard　of　objects　instantaneously　being　transported　from　one　place　to　another；　they　were　called　〃apports〃　and　were　supposed　to　be　warm　to　the　touch；　as　Trevor　said　the　hammer　had　been。　Zach　wasn't　sure　he　believed　in　apports；　but　he　couldn't　think　of　another　way　it　might　have　gotten　there。　If　it　was　the　same　hammer。
　　But　if　it　wasn't；　where　had　the　dried　blood　and　tissue　e　from？　Zach　didn't　even　want　to　wonder。　It　had　to　be　the　same　one；　that　made　more　sense　than　thinking　Trevor　had　bought　another　one　and　smeared　it　with　sheep　brains　or　something。　Zach　was　not　an　implicit　believer　in　the　supernatural；　but　he　didn't　believe　in　scaring　up　improbable　natural　explanations　just　to　rule　it　out；　either。　Nature　was　a　plex　system；　there　had　to　be　more　to　it　than　anyone　could　understand　from　looking　at　the　surface。
　　The　kitchen　was　large　and　old…fashioned；　with　a　free…standing　sink　and　a　gas　range。　A　real　farmhouse　kitchen；　or　so　Zach　imagined。　He　opened　the　refrigerator　and　was　surprised　to　see　the　light　e　on。　He　hadn't　tested　the　electricity；　he　realized；　he　had　forgotten　about　it　until　now。
　　In　the　fridge　was　a　juice　bottle　with　a　half　inch　of　black　sludge　at　the　bottom；　some　kind　of　vegetable　matter　mummified　beyond　recognition；　and　a　Tupperware　container　whose　contents　he　dared　not　contemplate：　he'd　heard　Tupperware　coffins　could　preserve　human　remains　for　twenty　years　or　more；　so　who　knew　what　they　could　do　to　leftovers？　Zach　retrieved　the　Cokes　and　bottled　water　from　the　living　room　and　arranged　them　on　the　shelf　next　to　the　juice。
　　He　checked　Trevor　again；　found　him　still　sleeping。　Zach　began　to　get　bored。　He　picked　his　way　across　the　living　room；　went　out　to　his　car；　and　got　the　bag　that　held　his　laptop　puter　and　cellular　phone。　He　thought　he　might　be　staying　here　for　a　few　days；　and　he　wanted　to　give　Eddy　a　more　specific　message　than　the　one　he　had　left　last　night。　If　he　dialed　in　now；　he　thought　he　could　just　make　the　deadline。
　　Zach　accessed　the　Times…Picayune's　puter；　typed　rapidly　for　several　minutes；　then　pressed　the　keys　to　send　his　article。　After　he　had　done　that；　he　was　still　restless。　He　found　a　square　of　yellow　Post…it　notes　in　his　bag；　scribbled　down　a　few　phone　codes；　and　stuck　them　on　the　edge　of　the　table。　They　were　numbers　he　might　need　in　a　hurry；　and　he　didn't　think　Trevor　would　mind。
　　Then；　just　for　the　hell　of　it；　he　dialed　into　Mutanet。　He　didn't　log　in　with　his　own　password；　of　course；　since　They　might　be　monitoring　the　board。　But　Zach　had　long　since　acquired　full　systems…operator　privileges　on　Mutanet；　though　he　had　discreetly　neglected　to　mention　this　fact　to　the　sysop。　The　sysop　fancied　himself　a　Discordian；　or　worshiper　of　the　chaotic　goddess　Eris；　and　his　password