pzb.drawingblood-第25章

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　　〃Man！　I　thought　you　were　dead　for　sure！〃　Terry　took　a　hit　off　Zach's　pipe　and　passed　it　back；　shaking　his　head；　letting　the　fragrant　smoke　leak　out　the　corners　of　his　mouth。　〃You　looked　like　somebody　had　shot　you　and　left　you　lyin'　there　across　the　seat。　All　that　was　missing　was　the　brains　on　the　window。〃
　　Zach　suppressed　a　shudder。　He　didn't　think　the　FBI　would　shoot　a　hacker　on　sight；　but　he　wasn't　sure　about　the　Secret　Service。　（The　NSA　probably　kept　hackers　alive　for　torture　and　interrogation　later；　but　their　jurisdiction　was　largely　military；　and　military　secrets　had　never　much　appealed　to　him。）
　　They　were　sitting　on　crates　in　the　dim；　cool　back　room　of　the　record　store；　and　though　Zach　felt　an　undeniable　echo　of　Leaf　and　Pass　Christian；　Terry　was　obviously　as　straight　as　the　day　was　hot。　There　was　no　definable　characteristic　that　told　him　this；　the　pheromones　just　weren't　there。　It　was　a　good　thing　too；　Zach　thought；　after　stewing　in　his　own　juices　all　morning　he　was　sure　he　stank　abominably。
　　As　if　to　confirm　this；　a　girl　with　long　brown　hair　stuck　her　head　through　the　curtain；　blinked　big　Cleopatra　eyes　against　the　gloom；　and　wrinkled　her　nose。　〃Terry？〃
　　〃Back　here；　Vie。〃　The　girl　picked　her　way　through　the　boxes　and　rolled…up　posters；　long　gauzy　skirt　swishing　around　her　ankles。　When　she　got　closer；　Zach　saw　that　she　was　wearing　a　skintight　tank　top；　as　if　to　accentuate　the　fact　that　she　had　absolutely　no　breasts。　Eddy　had　had　a　phrase　for　strippers　built　like　that：　Nipples　on　a　rib。
　　The　girl　leaned　down　to　Terry。　Zach　thought　they　were　going　to　kiss；　but　instead　Terry　blew　into　her　mouth　a　long　stream　of　smoke；　which　she　sucked　in　expertly。　Tendrils　of　it　seeped　from　her　narrow　nostrils　and　curled　around　her　head。　Terry　cupped　the　back　of　her　thigh　through　the　full　skirt。　〃This　is　my　gal　Victoria。　Vie；　meet　Zach。　He　just　rolled　into　town　this　morning。〃
　　〃Looks　like　we　gain　two　for　every　one　we　lose。〃　At　Terry's　questioning　look；　she　added；　〃You　told　me　about　that　guy　who　came　in　Saturday。　Now　him。〃
　　〃Yeah；　so　who'd　we　lose？〃
　　〃Omigod；　you　don't　know！〃　Victoria　clapped　her　hands　over　her　mouth。　Zach　wasn't　sure；　but　it　looked　as　if　she　might　be　hiding　a　sudden；　guilty　smirk。　〃That　girl　Rima？　The　one　Kinsey　fired　for　stealing　from　the　Yew？　She　had　a　wreck　out　on　the　highway。　Totaled　her　car　and　broke　her　back。　They　found　cocaine　all　over　the　place。〃
　　〃Gee；　Vie；　you　sound　pretty　upset　about　it。〃
　　〃Yeah；　right。〃　From　the　sudden　chill　in　the　air　Zach　guessed　that　Rima　had　e　on　to　Terry　at　some　point；　though　if　she　was　such　a　loser　he　doubted　Terry　had　slept　with　her。　Terry　seemed　like　that　rarest　of　all　creatures；　a　genuinely　guileless　Decent　Guy。　Besides；　you　probably　couldn't　get　away　with　much　in　a　little　town　like　this。
　　〃Well　。　。　。〃　A　shadow　passed　over　Terry's　face。　He　obviously　felt　bad　about　the　girl；　but　didn't　want　to　hurt　Victoria's　feelings。　〃She　didn't　kill　anyone　else？〃
　　Victoria　shook　her　head；　and　Terry　brightened　a　little。　Zach　believed　this　was　known　as　Looking　on　the　Bright　Side；　also　as　Pulling　the　Wool　Over　Your　Own　Eyes。　He　didn't　say　anything；　though；　the　last　thing　he　needed　now　was　to　annoy　anyone。
　　So　he　loaded　another　bowl　and　sat　around　the　back　of　the　store　with　them　for　a　while　longer；　listening　to　gossip　about　people　he　didn't　know；　occasionally　asking　a　question　or　offering　a　ment；　hacking　the　scene；　making　the　connections；　weaving　himself　into　the　net。　It　was　possible　anywhere；　though　it　could　be　a　damn　sight　tougher　than　breaking　into　a　puter。
　　When　Terry's　morning　crew　（one　sleepy…looking　teenager　with　a　tattoo　so　fresh　it　was　still　bleeding）　showed　up；　Terry　and　Victoria　took　Zach　down　the　street　for　greasy　grilled　cheese　sandwiches　at　the　local　diner。　The　waitress　refilled　Zach's　water　glass　with　tea；　and　when　he　took　a　sip　of　it　without　noticing；　his　nerves　began　to　crackle　and　fizz　like　a　string　of　firecrackers。　For　all　of　that；　he　felt　good。　He　liked　this　town。
　　After　lunch　Victoria　had　to　go　to　work…she　sorted　and　mended　old　clothes　at　some　downtown　thrift　shop…and　Terry　offered　to　show　Zach　the　local　dive　before　he　went　back　to　the　record　store。　By　the　time　they　were　halfway　down　the　street；　Zach　was　eagerly　picturing　the　inside　of　a　bar。　It　would　be　calm　and　dark　and　air…conditioned；　like　a　little　pocket　of　nighttime　in　the　middle　of　the　hot　afternoon。　It　would　be　forting　with　the　sharp　scents　of　liquor　and　the　grainy　smell　of　beer　on　tap；　lit　by　the　soft　watery　glow　of　a　Budweiser　clock　or　a　neon　Dixie　sign。　He　might　have　been　picturing　any　of　a　hundred　bars　in　the　French　Quarter；　but　the　Sacred　Yew　was　like　none　of　them；　and　Zach　had　yet　to　learn　how　difficult　it　was　to　find　Dixie　beer　anywhere　but　New　Orleans。
　　
　　Trevor　woke　at　the　drawing　table　with　cramped　muscles；　an　aching　head；　and　a　painfully　full　bladder。　The　green…tinted　sunlight　streaming　through　the　studio　windows　made　him　wince　and　rub　his　eyes　as　he　had　seen　Bobby　do　in　the　grip　of　countless　bourbon　hangovers。　But　he　hadn't　had　the　dream　of　not…drawing　last　night。
　　He　stood　up　without　looking　at　the　pages　he　had　drawn；　stumbled　out　of　the　room；　back　through　the　hall　and　living　room；　out　onto　the　vine…shrouded　porch　where　he　stood　urinating　into　the　kudzu；　squinting　out　at　the　empty　road。
　　The　day　glistened　in　emerald　splendor；　grass　stems　and　spiderwebs　still　bejeweled　with　yesterday's　rain；　inviting　Trevor　to　e　out　and　enjoy　the　sun　awhile。　Instead　he　stood　for　a　few　minutes　in　the　shelter　of　the　porch；　breathing　deeply　of　air　that　did　not　smell　like　mildew　or　dry　rot。　From　the　quality　of　the　light　he　thought　it　was　early　afternoon。
　　This　time　twenty　years　ago；　Momma's　friends　from　the　art　class　had　been　ing　up　these　steps；　knocking　worriedly　on　the　door；　then　letting　themselves　into　the　house　and　finding　him　among　the　bodies。　The　man　with　the　gentle　hands　had　been　picking　him　up；　carrying　him　out　of　the　carnage。　For　an　instant　Trevor　almost　remembered　what　he　had　been　thinking　at　that　moment：　something　about　the　Devil。　But　it　eluded　him。
　　Soon　he　turned　and　went　back　into　the　soft　gloom　of　the　house。　Without　giving　himself　time　to　think　about　it　he　crossed　the　living　room；　walked　a　few　paces　down　the　hall；　and　let　himself　into　Didi's　room。
　　It　looked　smaller　than　he　remembered；　but　that　might　have　been　due　to　the　kudzu　vines　that　had　burst　through　the　window　and　taken　over　more　than　half　the　room。　They　twined　up　the　walls；　around　the　light　fixture　on　the　ceiling。　They　trailed　into　the　closet　on　Trevor's　left；　where　he　could　still　see　a　few　of　Didi's　toys　mired　in　the　leaves；　as　if　the　kudzu　had　actually　twined　around　them　and　lifted　them　off　the　floor。　A　smiling　plush　octopus；　a　windup　grandfather　clock；　a　once…red　rubber　ball。　All　were　covered　in　dust；　faded　with　time　and　neglect。　Twenty　years　never　touched　by　a　little　boy's　hands；　a　little　boy's　love。
　　The　kudzu　filled　the　left　half　of　the　room　with　rustling　heart…shaped　leaves　and　shifting　green　shadows。　The　mattress　sat　in　a　clear　spot　to　the　right。　Instead　of　a　tiny　body　it　bore　only　a　huge；　irregular　bloodstain；　dark　crimson　and　wet…looking　in　the　center；　fading　to　the　most　delicate　pale　brown　around　the　edges。　Trevor　noticed　splotches　and　runners　of　blood　on　the　wall　above　the　mattress　too；　five　or　six　feet　up。　How　many　blood　vessels　were　in　the　brain？　And　how　far　could　they　spray　when　the　head　was　crushed　like　a　juicy　grape；　made　to　spill　out　the　red　secrets　of　its　wine；　the　electric　potion　of　its　cerebral　fluid；　the　very　chemistry　of　its　thoughts　and　dreams？
　　It's　a　glorious　summer　day；　some　remotely；　annoyingly　sane　voice　in　his　head　nagged　him；　and　here　you　are　buried　in　this　tomb　of　a　house　staring　at　the　twenty…year…old　deathstain　of　a　brother　you　barely　had　time　to　know。
　　And　another　part　of　him　answered；　We　get　to　the　places　where　we　need　to　be。
　　He　pulled　the　Whirling　Disc　T…shirt　over　his　head；　let　it　fall　to　the　floor；　and　stretched　out　on　Didi's　mattress。　Stale　dust　puffed　up　from　the　ticking　as　he　centered　his　head　on　the　bloodstain。　It　was　stiff　and　dry　against　his　cheek；　and　smelled　only　of　age；　with　perhaps　a　faint　sour　undertone　like　the　memory　of　spoiled　meat。　He　nuzzled　his　face　into　the　stain；　spread　his　arms　wide　as　if　to　embrace　it。
　　From　somewhere　in　the　room　came　a　faint　popping　sound；　then　the　noise　of　something　heavy　hitting　the　floor。　Trevor　jerked　reflexively　but　did　not　look　around。　He　wasn't　sure　he　wanted　to　see　what　new　surprise　the　house　had　dealt　him。　Not　yet。　Can't　you　even　give　me　a　minute　with　Didi？　he　thought。　Can't　I　even　have　that　before　I　have　to　start　thinking　about　you　again？
　　But　by　now　he　knew　he　wasn't　calling　the　shots；　not　many　of　them　anyway。　He　had　e　here　to　learn；　and　whatever　was　here　would　teach　him　。　。　。　something。　He　pushed　himself　up　on　his　elbows　and　turned　to　look　into　the　corner　of　the　room　from　which　the　sound　had　e；　over　by　the　closet。　A　small　dark　object　lay　near　the　edge　of　the　kudzu；　as　if　it　had　tumbled　out　of　the　vines。　The　object　was　perhaps　a　foot　long；　half…shrouded　in　shadow。　Trevor　tried　to　tell　himself　it　could　be　anything。　A　stick。　A　stray　piece　of　wood。
　　A　hammer。
　　He　got　up　and　crossed　the　room；　stared　at　it　for　a　long　moment；　then　leaned　down　and　picked　it　up。　The　stout　wooden　handle　was　scuffed　and　streaked　with　dark　stains。　It　felt　slightly　warm　in　his　hand。　The　head　and　claw　were　rusted；　caked　with　a　delicate；　crumbling　dry　brown　matter　like　powdery　fungus；　like　desiccated　petals。　He　touched　his　finger　to　it；　rubbed　it　against　his　thumb。　The　scrim　of　matter　between　them　felt　dusty；　gritty。　Pale　brown；　like　the　edges　of　the　bloodstain。　He　remembered　reading　somewhere　that　any　human　tissue　would　turn　to　some　shade　of　brown　eventually；　given　time。　It　was　the　color　of　all　skin；　the　color　of　waste；　the　color　of　rot。
　　Cause　of　death：　blunt　trauma　。　。　。
　　Trevor　had　no　idea　what　had　happened　to　the　hammer　that　had　killed　his　family；　but　he　knew　it　could　not　have　stayed　in　the　house。　It　would　have　been　taken　as　evidence；　photographed；　probably　even　fitted　into　the　holes　in　their　skulls　to　prove　it　was　indeed　the　murder　weapon。　That　was　how　they　did　things。　Yet　he　knew　too；　just　as　surely；　that　this　was　the　same　hammer。
　　He　stood　for　a　long　time　turning　it　over　and　over　in　his　hands。　He　felt　a　few　slow　tears　leaking　from　his　eyes；　running　into　his　mouth　or　dripping　off　his　chin。　But　he　had　done　most　of　his　crying　last　night；　with　Kinsey。　Now　he　was　beginning　to　feel　as　if　he　were　being　taunted。　Here's　a　hammer；　what　can　you　do　with　it？
　　He　didn't　know　yet。
　　But　when　a　noise　came　from　the　living　room…no　scrape　or　creak　of　the　house；　he　was　already　starting　to　get　used　to　those；　but　a　distinct　footfall…he　whirled　and　raised　the　hammer　before　he　knew　what　he　was　doing。
　　And　when　he　heard　a　stranger's　voice；　Trevor　moved　swiftly　and　silently　toward　the　door。
　　
　　〃Shit！　I　better　get　back　to　the　store　before　it　pours。　Tell　Zach　I'll　see　him　later　if　he　decides　to　hang　out。〃
　　Terry　tipped　a　quick　salute　at　Kinsey；　who　was　on　his　knees　ripping　several　weeks'　worth　of　silver　duct　tape　off　the　stage；　and　took　his　leave　of　the　Sacred　Yew。　A　few　minutes　lat