dk.intensity-第40章

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；　for　still　trying　to　understand。
　Vess　laughed　and　shook　his　head。　〃This　isn't　a　textbook；　Chyna。　This　is　real　life。〃
　〃Were　you？〃
　〃No。　My　father　was　a　Chicago　accountant。　My　mom　sold　women's　wear　at　a　department　store。　They　loved　me。　Bought　me　too　many　toys；　more　than　I　could　use；　especially　since　I　preferred　playing　with　。。。　other　things。〃
　〃Animals；〃　she　said。
　〃That's　right。〃
　〃And　before　animals…insects　or　very　little　things　like　goldfish　or　turtles。〃
　〃Is　that　in　your　textbooks？〃
　〃It's　the　earliest　and　worst　sign。　Torturing　animals。〃
　He　shrugged。　〃It　was　fan　。。。　watching　the　stupid　thing　crawl　on　fire　inside　its　shell。　Really；　Chyna；　you　have　to　learn　to　get　beyond　these　petty　value　judgments。〃
　She　closed　her　eyes；　hoping　he　would　go　to　work。
　〃Anyway；　my　folks　loved　me；　all　caught　up　in　that　delusion。　When　I　was　nine；　I　set　a　fire。　Lighter　fluid　in　their　bed　while　they　were　sleeping；　then　a　cigarette。〃
　〃My　God。〃
　〃There　you　go　again。〃
　〃Why？〃　
　He　mocked：　〃Why　not？〃
　〃Jesus。〃
　〃Want　the　second…best　answer？〃
　〃Yes；〃　she　said。
　〃Then　look　at　me　when　I　talk　to　you。〃　
　She　opened　her　eyes。　His　gaze　cleaved　her。　〃I　set　them　on　fire　because　I　thought　maybe　they　were　beginning　to　catch　on。〃
　〃To　what？〃
　〃To　the　fact　that　I　was　something　special。〃
　〃They　caught　you　with　the　turtle；〃　she　guessed。
　〃No。　A　neighbor's　kitten。　We　lived　in　a　nice　suburb。　There　were　so　many　pets　in　the　neighborhood。　Anyway；　when　they　caught　me；　there　was　talk　of　doctors。　Even　at　nine；　I　knew　I　couldn't　allow　that。　Doctors　might　be　harder　to　fool。　So　we　had　a　little　fire。〃
　〃And　nothing　was　done　to　you？〃
　Finished　with　his　cleaning；　he　sat　down　at　the　table。
　〃No　one　suspected。　Dad　was　smoking　in　bed；　the　firemen　said。　It　happens　all　the　time。　The　whole　house　went。　I　barely　got　out　alive；　and　Mommy　was　screaming；　and　I　couldn't　get　to　her；　couldn't　help　my　mommy；　and　I　was　so　scared。〃　He　winked　at　her。　　After　that；　I　went　to　live　with　my　grandma。　She　was　an　annoying　old　biddy；　full　of　rules；　regulations；　standards　of　conduct；　manners；　and　courtesies　I　had　to　learn。　But　she　couldn't　keep　a　clean　house。　Her　bathroom　was　just　disgusting。　She　led　me　into　my　second　and　last　mistake。　I　killed　her　while　she　was　standing　in　the　kitchen；　just　like　this；　preparing　dinner。　It　was　an　impulsive　thing；　a　knife　twice　in　each　kidney。〃
　〃How　old？〃
　Slyly　playing　with　her；　he　said；　〃Grandma　or　me？〃
　〃You。〃
　〃Eleven。　Too　young　to　be　put　on　trial。　Too　young　for　anyone　to　really　believe　that　I　knew　what　I　was　doing。〃
　〃They　had　to　do　sometbing　to　you。〃
　〃Fourteen　months　in　a　caring　facility。　Lots　of　therapy；　lots　of　counseling；　lots　and　lots　of　attention　and　hugs。　Because；　you　see；　I　must　have　offed　poor　grandma　because　of　my　unexpressed　grief　over　the　accidental　deaths　of　my　parents　in　that　awful；　awful　fire。　One　day　I　realized　what　they　were　trying　to　tell　me；　and　I　just　broke　down　and　cried　and　cried。　Oh；　Chyna；　how　I　cried；　and　wallowed　in　remorse　for　poor　Grandma。　The　therapists　and　social　workers　were　so　appreciative　of　the　wallowing。〃
　〃Where　did　you　go　from　the　facility？〃
　〃I　was　adopted。〃
　Speechless；　she　stared　at　him。
　〃I　know　what　you're　thinking；〃　he　said。　〃Not　many　twelve…year…old　orphans　get　adopted。　People　are　usually　looking　for　infants　to　mold　in　their　own　image。　But　I　was　such　a　beautiful　boy；　Chyna；　an　almost　ethereally　beautiful　boy。　Can　you　believe　that？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃People　want　beautiful　children。　Beautiful　children　with　nice　smiles。　I　was　sweet…tempered　and　charming。　By　then　I'd　learned　to　hide　better　among　all　you　hypocrites。　I'd　never　again　be　caught　with　a　bloody　kitten　or　a　dead　grandmother。〃
　〃But　who　。。。　who　would　adopt　you　after　what　you　did？〃
　〃What　I　did　was　expunged　from　my　record；　of　course。　I　was　just　the　littlest　boy；　after　all。　Chyna；　you　wouldn't　expect　my　whole　life　to　be　ruined　just　because　of　one　mistake？　Psychiatrists　and　social　workers　were　the　grease　in　my　wheels；　and　I　will　always　be　beholden　to　them　for　their　sweet；　earnest　desire　to　believe。〃
　〃Your　adoptive　parents　didn't　know？〃
　〃They　knew　that　I'd　been　traumatized　by　the　death　of　my　parents　in　a　fire；　that　the　trauma　had　led　to　counseling；　and　that　I　needed　to　be　watched　for　signs　of　depression。　They　wanted　so　badly　to　make　my　life　better；　to　prevent　depression　from　ever　touching　me　again。〃
　〃What　happened　to　them？〃
　〃We　lived　there　in　Chicago　two　years；　and　then　we　moved　here　to　Oregon。　I　let　them　live　for　quite　a　while；　and　I　let　them　pretend　to　love　me。　Why　not？　They　enjoyed　their　delusions　so　much。　But　then；　after　I　graduated　from　college；　I　was　twenty　years　old　and　needed　more　money　than　I　had；　so　there　had　to　be　another　dreadful　accident；　another　fire　in　the　night。　But　it　was　eleven　long　years　since　the　fire　that　took　my　real　mom　and　dad；　and　half　a　continent　away。　No　social　workers　had　seen　me　in　years；　and　there　were　no　files　about　my　horrible　mistake　with　Grandma；　so　no　connections　were　ever　made。〃
　They　sat　in　silence。　After　a　while　he　tapped　the　plate　in　front　of　her。　〃Eat；　eat；〃　he　cajoled。　〃I'll　be　eating　at　a　diner　myself。　Sorry　I　can't　keep　you　pany。〃
　〃I　believe　you；〃　she　said。
　〃What？〃
　〃That　you　were　never　abused。〃
　〃Though　that　runs　against　everything　you've　been　taught。　Good　girl；　Chyna。　You　know　the　truth　when　you　hear　it。　Maybe　there's　hope　for　you　yet。〃
　〃There's　no　understanding　you；〃　she　said；　though　she　was　talking　more　to　herself　than　to　him。
　〃Of　course　there　is。　I'm　just　in　touch　with　my　reptilian　nature；　Chyna。　It's　in　all　of　us。　We　all　evolved　from　that　slimy；　legged　fish　that　first　crawled　out　of　the　sea。　The　reptile　consciousness　。。。　it's　still　in　all　of　us；　but　most　of　you　struggle　so　hard　to　hide　it　from　yourselves；　to　convince　yourselves　that　you're　something　cleaner　and　better　than　what　you　really　are。　The　irony　is；　if　you；　'd　just　for　once　acknowledge　your　reptile　nature；　you'd　find　the　freedom　and　the　happiness　that　you're　all　so　frantic　to　achieve　and　never　do。〃
　He　tapped　the　plate　again；　and　then　the　glass　of　water。　He　got　up　and　tucked　his　chair　under　the　table。
　〃That　conversation　wasn't　quite　as　you　expected；　was　it；　Chyna？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃You　were　expecting　me　to　equivocate；　to　whine　on　about　being　a　victim；　to　indulge　in　elaborately　structured　self…delusions；　to　spit　up　some　tale　of　warping　incest。　You　wanted　to　believe　your　clever　probing　might　expose　a　secret　religious　fanaticism；　bring　revelations　that　I　hear　godly　voices　in　my　head。　You　didn't　expect　it　to　be　this　straightforward。　This　honest。〃
　He　went　to　the　door　between　the　kitchen　and　the　living　room；　and　then　turned　to　look　at　her。
　〃I'm　not　unique；　Chyna。　The　world　is　filled　with　the　likes　of　me…most　are　just　less　free。　You　know　where　I　think　a　lot　of　my　type　wind　up？〃
　In　spite　of　herself；　she　asked；　〃Where？〃
　〃In　politics。　Imagine　having　the　power　to　start　wars；　Chyna。　How　gratifying　that　would　be。　Of　course；　in　public　life；　one　would　generally　have　to　forgo　the　pleasure　of　getting　right　down　in　the　wet　of　it；　hands　dirty　with　all　the　wonderful　fluids。　One　would　have　to　be　satisfied　with　the　thrill　of　sending　thousands　to　their　deaths；　remote　destruction。　But　I　believe　I　could　adapt　to　that。　And　there　would　always　be　photos　from　the　war　zone；　reports；　all　as　graphic　as　one　requested。　And　never　a　danger　of　apprehension。　More　amazing…they　build　monuments　to　you。　You　can　bomb　a　small　country　into　oblivion；　and　dinners　are　given　in　your　honor。　You　can　kill　thirty…four　children　in　a　religious　munity；　crush　them　with　tanks；　burn　them　alive；　claim　they　were　dangerous　cultists…then　sit　back　to　the　sound　of　applause。　Such　power。　Intensity。〃
　He　glanced　at　the　clock。　A　few　minutes　past　five。　
　He　said；　〃I'll　finish　dressing　and　be　gone。　Back　as　soon　after　midnight　as　I　can　be。〃　He　shook　his　head　as　if　saddened　by　the　sight　of　her。　〃Untouched　and　alive。　What　kind　of　existence　is　that；　Chyna？　Not　one　worth　having。　Get　in　touch　with　your　reptile　consciousness。　Embrace　the　cold　and　the　dark。　That's　what　we　are。〃
　He　left　her　in　chains　as　twilight　entered　the　world　and　the　light　withdrew。
　Mr。　Vess　steps　onto　the　porch；　locks　the　front　door；　and　then　whistles　for　the　dogs。
　The　day　is　growing　cooler　as　it　wanes；　and　the　air　is　bracing。　He　zips　up　his　jacket。
　From　different　points　of　the　pass；　the　four　Dobermans　sprint　out　of　the　twilight　and　race　to　the　porch。　As　they　scamper　to　Vess　and　jostle　one　another　to　be　the　closest　to　him；　their　big　paws　thump　on　the　boards　in　a　fandango　of　canine　delight。
　He　kneels　among　them；　generously　doling　out　affection　once　more。　Oddly　like　people；　these　Dobermans　appear　to　be　unable　to　detect　the　insincerity　of　Mr。　Vess's　love。　They　are　only　tools　to　him；　not　treasured　pets；　and　the　attention　he　gives　them　is　like　the　3…In…One　oil　with　which　he　occasionally　lubricates　his　power　drill；　hand…held　belt　sander；　and　chain　saw。　In　the　movies；　it　is　always　a　dog　that　senses　the　werewolf　potential　in　the　moon…fearing　man　and　greets　him　with　a　growl；　always　a　dog　that　shies　away　from　the　character　who　is　secretly　harboring　the　alien　parasite　in　his　body。　But　movies　are　not　life。
　The　dogs　are　no　doubt　deceiving　him　just　as　he　deceives　them。　Their　love　is　nothing　but　respect…or　sublimated　fear　of　him。
　He　stands；　and　the　dogs　look　up　expectantly。　Earlier；　they　had　been　summoned　from　their　kennel　by　the　buzzer；　therefore；　they　are　now　merely　on　an　apprehend…and…detain　status。
　〃Nietzsche；〃　he　says。
　As　one；　the　four　Dobermans　twitch　and　then　bee　rigid。　Their　ears　first　prick　at　the　mand　word　but　then　flatten。
　Their　black　eyes　shine　in　the　dusk。
　Abruptly　they　depart　the　porch；　scattering　across　the　property；　having　been　elevated　to　attack　status。
　Putting　on　his　hat；　Mr。　Vess　walks　toward　the　barn；　where　he　keeps　his　car。
　He　leaves　the　motor　home　parked　beside　the　house。　Later；　to　minimize　the　distance　that　the　two　bodies　will　have　to　be　carried；　he　will　back　the　vehicle　along　the　lane；　closer　to　the　meadow　of　unmarked　graves。
　As　he　walks；　Mr。　Vess　draws　slow；　deep　breaths　and　clears　his　mind；　preparing　himself　for　reentry　into　the　workaday　world。
　He　enjoys　the　charade　of　his　second　life；　passing　for　one　of　the　repressed　and　deluded　who；　in　uncountable　multitudes；　rule　the　earth　with　lies；　who　pass　their　lives　in　denial；　anxiety；　and　hypocrisy。　He　is　like　a　fox　in　a　pen　of　mentally　deficient　chickens　that　are　unable　to　distinguish　between　a　predator　and　one　of　their　own；　and　this　is　a　fine　game　for　a　fox　with　a　sense　of　humor。
　Every　day；　all　day　long；　Vess　weighs　other　people　with　his　eyes；　furtively　tests　their　firmness　with　a　friendly　touch；　breathes　the　enticing　scents　of　their　flesh；　selecting　among　them　as　if　choosing　packaged　poultry　at　a　market。　He　does　not　often　kill　those　whom　he　meets　in　his　public　persona…only　if　he　is　absolutely　certain　that　he　can　get　away　with　it　and　if　the　particular　chicken　promises　to　be　tasty。
　If　Chyna　Shepherd　hadn't　disturbed　his　usual　routine；　Vess　would　have　spent　more　time　reacclimating　himself　to　his　role　as　an　ordinary　guy。　He　might　have　watched　a　game　show　on　television；　read　a　couple　of　chapters　in　a　romance　novel　by　RobertJames　Waller；　and　skimmed　an　issue　of　People　to　re