dk.intensity-第24章

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　rht　is　visible　alon　No　thread　of　lig　g　the　threshold　or　the　jamb；　so　she　no　doubt　entered　in　darkness。　Evidently　she　has　not　yet　sat　upon　the　bed　and　found　the　sleeping　beauty。
　Perhaps　she　has　edged　warily　around　the　small　room　and；　by　blind　exploration；　has　discovered　the　folding　door　to　the　closet。　Perhaps　if　Vess　opens　this　bedroom　door；　she　will　simultaneously　pull　aside　those　vinyl　panels　and　attempt　to　slip　swiftly　and　quietly　into　the　closet；　only　to　feel　a　strange　cold　form　hanging　there　instead　of　sport　shirts。
　Mr。　Vess　is　amused。　The　temptation　to　throw　open　the　door　is　almost　irresistible；　to　see　her　carom　off　the　body　in　the　closet；　then　to　the　bed；　then　away　from　the　dead　girl；　screaming　first　at　the　sewn…shut　face　of　the　boy　and　then　at　the　manacled　girl　and　then　at　Vess　himself；　in　a　ic　pinball　spin　of　terror。　Following　that　spectacle；　however；　they　will　have　to　get　down　to　issues　at　once。　He　will　quickly　learn　who　she　is　and　what　she　thinks　she　is　doing　here。
　Mr。　Vess　realizes　that　he　doesn't　want　this　rare　experience　with　mystery　to　end。　He　finds　it　more　pleasing　to　prolong　the　suspense　and　chew　on　the　puzzle　for　a　while。
　He　was　beginning　to　feel　weary　from　his　recent　activities。　Now　he　is　energized　by　these　unexpected　developments。
　Certain　risks　are　involved；　of　course；　in　playing　it　this　way。　But　it　is　impossible　to　live　with　intensity　and　avoid　risk。　Risk　is　at　the　heart　of　an　intense　existence。
　He　backs　quietly　away　from　the　bedroom　door。　Noisily；　he　steps　into　the　bathroom；　takes　a　piss；　and　flushes　the　toilet；　so　the　woman　will　think　that　he　came　to　the　back　of　the　motor　home　not　in　search　of　her　but　to　answer　the　call　of　nature。　If　she　continues　to　believe　that　her　presence　is　unknown；　she　will　proceed　on　whatever　course　of　action　brought　her　here　in　the　first　place；　and　it　will　be　interesting　to　see　what　she　does。
　He　goes　forward　again；　pausing　in　the　kitchen　to　pump　a　cup　of　hot　coffee　from　the　two…quart　thermos　on　the　counter　by　the　cooktop。　He　also　switches　on　a　couple　of　lights　so　he　will　be　able　to　see　the　interior　clearly　in　the　rearview　mirror。
　Behind　the　steering　wheel　once　more；　he　sips　the　coffee。　It　is　hot；　black；　and　bitter；　just　the　way　he　likes　it。　He　secures　the　cup　in　a　holder　bracketed　to　the　dashboard。
　He　tucks　the　pistol　in　the　open　console　box　between　the　seats；　with　the　safeties　off　and　the　butt　up。　He　can　put　his　hand　on　it　in　a　second；　turn　in　his　seat；　shoot　the　woman　before　she　can　get　near　him；　and　still　maintain　control　of　the　motor　home。
　But　he　doesn't　think　that　she　will　try　to　harm　him；　at　least　not　soon。　If　harming　him　was　her　primary　intention；　she　would　have　gone　after　him　already。
　Strange。　〃Why？　What　now？〃　he　says　aloud；　enjoying　the　drama　of　his　peculiar　situation。　〃What　now？　What　next？　Surprise；　surprise。〃
　He　drinks　more　coffee。　The　aroma　reminds　him　of　the　crisp　texture　of　burned　toast。
　Outside；　the　elk　are　gone。　A　night　of　mysteries。　The　mounting　wind　lashes　the　long　fronds　of　the　fems。　Like　evidence　of　violence；　bright　wet　rhododendron　blossoms　spray　through　the　night。
　The　forest　stands　untouched。　The　power　of　time　is　stored　in　those　massive；　dark；　vertical　forms。
　Mr。　Vess　shifts　the　motor　home　out　of　park　and　releases　the　emergency　brake。　Onward。
　After　he　cruises　past　the　damaged　Honda；　he　glances　at　the　rearview　mirror。　The　bedroom　door　remains　closed。　The　woman　is　in　hiding。
　With　the　motor　home　rolling　again；　perhaps　the　stowaway　will　risk　turning　on　a　light　and　will　take　this　opportunity　to　meet　her　roommates。
　Mr。　Vess　smiles。　Of　all　the　expeditions　that　he　has　conducted；　this　is　the　most　interesting　and　exciting。　And　it　isn't　over　yet。
　Chyna　sat　on　the　floor　in　the　darkness。　Her　back　was　against　the　wall。　The　revolver　lay　at　her　side。
　She　was　untouched　and　alive。　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive；〃　she　whispered；　and　this　was　both　a　prayer　and　a　joke。
　Throughout　her　childhood；　she　frequently　prayed　earnestly　for　that　double　blessing…her　virtue　and　her　life…and　her　prayers　were　often　as　rambling　and　incoherent　as　they　were　frantic。　Eventually　she　had　worried　that　God　was　growing　weary　of　her　endless　desperate　pleas　for　deliverance；　that　He　was　sick　of　her　inability　to　take　care　of　herself　and　stay　out　of　trouble；　and　that　He　might　decide　that　she　had　used　up　all　of　the　divine　mercy　allotted　to　her。　God　was　busy；　after　all；　running　the　entire　universe；　watching　over　so　many　drunks　and　fools；　with　the　devil　working　mischief　everywhere；　volcanoes　erupting；　sailors　lost　in　storms；　sparrows　falling。　By　the　time　Chyna　was　ten　or　eleven；　in　consideration　of　God's　hectic　schedule；　she　had　condensed　her　rambling　pleas；　in　times　of　terror；　to　this：　〃God；　this　is　Chyna　Shepherd；　here　in〃…fill　the　blank　with　the　name　of　the　current　place…〃and　I'm　begging　you；　please；　please；　please；　just　let　me　get　through　this　untouched　and　alive。〃　Soon；　realizing　that　God；　being　God；　would　know　precisely　where　she　was；　she　reduced　her　entreaty　further　to：　〃God；　this　is　Chyna　Shepherd。　Please　get　me　through　this　untouched　and　alive。〃　Finally；　certain　that　God　was　exasperatedly　familiar　with　her　panicky　presumptions　on　His　time　and　grace；　she　had　shortened　her　plea　to　a　telegraphic　minimum：　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive。〃　In　crises…under　beds　or　lost　in　closets　behind　concealing　clothes　or　in　cobwebbed　attics　smelling　of　dust　and　raw　wood　or；　once；　flattened　against　the　ground　in　a　mire　of　rat　shit　in　the　crawl　space　under　a　moldering　old　house…she　had　whispered　those　five　words　or　chanted　them　silently；　over　and　over；　indefatigably；　Chyna…Shepherd…untouched…and…alive；　ceaselessly　reciting　them　not　because　she　was　afraid　that　God　might　be　distracted　by　other　business　and　fail　to　hear　her　but　to　remind　herself　that　He　was　out　there；　had　received　her　message；　and　would　take　care　of　her　if　she　was　patient。　And　when　each　crisis　passed；　when　the　black　flood　of　terror　receded；　when　her　stuttering　heart　finally　began　to　speak　each　beat　clearly　and　calmly　again；　she　had　repeated　the　five　words　once　more　but　with　a　different　inflection　than　she　had　used　previously；　not　as　a　plea　for　deliverance　this　time　but　as　a　dutiful　report；　Chyna…Shepherd…untouchedand…alive；　much　as　a　sailor　in　wartime　might　report　to　his　captain　after　the　ship　had　survived　a　vigorous　strafing　by　enemy　planes…〃All　present　and　accounted　for；　sir。〃　She　was　present；　she　was　accounted　for；　and　she　let　God　know　of　her　gratitude　with　the　same　five　words；　figuring　that　He　would　hear　the　difference　in　her　inflection　and　would　understand。　It　had　bee　a　little　joke　with　young　Chyna；　and　sometimes　she　had　even　acpanied　the　report　with　a　salute；　which　seemed　all　rivht　because　she　had　figured　that　God；　being　God；　must　have　a　sense　of　humor。　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive。〃
　This　time；　from　the　motor…home　bedroom；　it　was　simultaneously　a　report　on　her　survival　and　a　fervent　prayer　to　be　spared　from　whatever　brutality　might　be　ing　next。　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive。〃
　As　a　little　girl；　she　had　loathed　her　name…except　when　she　had　been　praying　to　survive。　It　was　frivolous；　a　stupid　misspelling　of　a　real　word；　and　when　other　kids　teased　her　about　it；　she　wasn't　able　to　mount　a　defense。　Considering　that　her　mother　was　called　Anne；　such　a　simple　name；　the　choice　of　Cbyna　seemed　not　merely　frivolous　but　thoughtless　and　even　mean。　During　most　of　the　time　that　Anne　was　pregnant；　she　had　lived　in　a　mune　of　radical　environmentalistsa　cell　of　the　infamous　Earth　Army　who　believed　that　any　degree　of　violence　was　justifiable　in　defense　of　nature。　They　had　spiked　trees　with　the　hope　that　loggers　would　lose　hands　in　accidents　with　power　saws。　They　had　burned　down　two　meat…packing　plants　and　the　hapless　night　watchmen　in　them；　sabotaged　the　construction　equipment　at　new　housing　tracts　that　encroached　upon　the　wilds；　and　killed　a　scientist　at　Stanford　because　they　disapproved　of　his　use　of　animals　in　his　laboratory　experiments。　Influenced　by　these　friends；　Anne　Shepherd　had　considered　many　names　for　her　daughter：　Hyacinth；　Meadow；　Ocean；　Sky；　Snow；　Rain；　Leaf；　Butterfly。。。　By　the　time　she　had　given　birth；　however；　she　had　moved　on　from　the　Earth　Army；　and　she　had　named　Chyna　after　China　because；　as　she　had　once　explained；　〃Honey；　I　just　suddenly　realized　one　day　that　China　is　the　only　just　society　on　earth；　and　it　seemed　like　a　beautiful　name。〃　She　had　never　been　able　to　recall　why　she　had　changed　the　i　toy；　though　by　then　she　had　been　a　working　partner　in　a　methamphetamine　lab；　packaging　speed　in　affordable　five…dollar　hits　and　sampling　the　merchandise　often　enough　to　have　been　left　with　a　few　blank　days　in　her　memory。　Only　when　praying　for　deliverance　had　young　Chyna　liked　her　name；　because　she　had　figured　that　God　would　remember　her　more　easily　for　it；　would　not　get　her　confused　with　the　millions　of　Marys　and　Carolines　and　Lindas　and　Heathers　and　Tracys　and　Janes。
　Now　her　name　no　longer　dismayed　or　pleased　her。　It　was　just　a　name　like　any　other。
　She　had　learned　that　who　she　was…the　true　person　she　was…had　nothing　whatsoever　to　do　with　her　name；　and　little　to　do　with　the　life　that　she'd　led　with　her　mother　for　sixteen　years。　She　couldn't　be　blamed　for　the　dreadful　hates　and　lusts　she　had　seen；　for　the　obscenines　heard；　for　the　crimes　witnessed；　or　for　the　things　that　some　of　her　mother's　male　friends　had　wanted　from　her。　She　was　not　defined　either　by　a　name　or　by　shameful　experience；　instead；　she　was　formed　by　dreams　and　hopes；　by　aspirations；　by　selfrespect　and　perseverance。　She　wasn't　clay　in　the　hands　of　others；　she　was　rock；　and　with　her　own　determined　hands；　she　could　sculpt　the　person　that　she　wanted　to　be。
　She　hadn't　reached　this　realization　until　a　year　ago；　When　she　was　twenty…five。　The　wisdom　had　e　to　her　not　in　a　dazzling　flash　but　slowly；　in　the　way　that　a　plot　of　bare　earth　is　covered　gradually　by　creeping　ajuga　until　one　day；　as　if　miraculously；　the　brown　dirt　is　gone　and　everywhere　are　emerald…green　leaves　and　tiny　blue　flowers。　Worthwhile　knowledge　always　seemed　hard…won　while　the　winning　was　in　progress…but　seemed　easily　acquired　in　retrospect。
　The　old　motor　home　lumbered　through　the　night；　creaking　like　a　long…sealed　door；　ticking　like　a　rusted　clock　too　corroded　to　register　every　second　faithfully；　toward　dawn。
　Crazy。　Crazy　to　be　taking　this　trip。　But　nowhere　else　to　go。　This　was　where　her　entire　life　had　been　leading。　Reckless　courage　wasn't　restricted　to　the　battlefield…or　to　men。　She　was　wet　and　cold　and　frightened…and　strangely；　for　the　first　time　in　her　entire　life；　she　was　at　peace　with　herself。　〃Ariel；〃　Chyna　said　softly；　one　girl　in　the　darkness　speaking　reassuringly　to　another。
　Mr。　Vess　drives　out　of　the　redwoods　into　a　drizzling　dawn；　first　iron　gray　and　then　somewhat　paler；　through　coastal　meadows　the　same　drear　shades　of　metal　as　the　sky；　back　onto　Highway　ioi；　into　forests　again；　but　of　pine　and　spruce　this　time；　out　of　Humboldt　County　into　Del　Norte　County；　ever　more　isolated　terrain；　eventually　leaving　ioi　for　a　route　that　leads　north…northeast。
　For　the　first　part　of　the　journey；　he　glances　frequently　at　the　rearview　mirror；　but　the　bedroom　door　remains　closed；　and　the　woman　seems　fortable　with　the　cadavers　or；　perhaps；　with　her　i