dk.intensity-第42章

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Yet　no　Dobermans　were　in　sight。
　Likewise；　the　elk　should　have　caught　the　scent　of　the　dogs　and　galloped　at　once　for　safety；　wild…eyed　and　snorting。　Nature　had　made　its　kind　prey　to　mountain　lions　and　wolves　and　packs　of　coyotes；　as　dinner…on…the…hoof　to　so　many　predators；　elk　were　always　watchful　and　cautious。
　But　this　specimen　seemed　utterly　unconcerned　that　dogs　were　in　the　immediate　neighborhood。　Except　for　the　two　brief　pauses　to　graze　on　the　lush　grass；　it　came　directly　to　the　back　porch；　with　no　sign　of　skittishness。
　Although　Chyna　was　not　a　wildlife　expert；　this　seemed　to　her　to　be　a　coastal　elk；　the　same　type　she　had　encountered　in　the　grove　of　redwoods。　Its　coat　was　gray…brown；　and　it　had　the　familiar　white　and　black　markings　on　the　body　and　face。
　Yet　she　was　sure　that　this　place　was　too　far　from　the　sea　to　be　a　suitable　home　for　coastal　elk　or　to　provide　the　ideal　vegetation　for　their　diet。　When　she'd　gotten　out　of　the　motor　home；　she'd　had　an　impression　of　mountains　all　around。　Now　the　rain　had　stopped　and　the　mist　had　lifted；　in　the　west；　where　the　dregs　of　daylight　swiftly　drained　away；　the　black　silhouettes　of　high　peaks　pressed　against　tattered　clouds　and　electric…purple　sky。　With　a　mountain　range　of　such　formidable　size　between　here　and　the　Pacific　Ocean；　coastal　elk　could　not　have　found　their　way　so　far　inland；　for　they　were　basically　a　lowland　breed　partial　to　plains　and　gentle　hills。　This　must　be　a　different　type　of　elk…although　with　coloration　strikingly　similar　to　that　of　the　animals　she　had　seen　the　previous　night。
　The　imposing　creature　stood　outside　the　wooden　balustrade　of　the　shallow　porch；　no　more　than　eight　feet　away；　staring　directly　at　the　window。　At　Chyna。
　She　found　it　difficult　to　believe　that　the　elk　could　see　her。　With　the　lights　off；　the　kitchen　was　currently　darker　than　the　dusk　in　which　the　animal　stood。　From　its　perspective；　the　interior　of　the　house　should　have　been　unrelievedly　black。
　Yet　she　couldn't　deny　that　its　eyes　met　hers。　Large　dark　eyes；　shining　softly。
　Mie　remembered　Vess's　sudden　return　to　the　kitchen　this　morningHe'd　been　inexplicably　tense；　ceaselessly　turning　the　screwdriver　in　his　hand；　an　odd　light　in　his　eyes。　And　he'd　been　full　of　questions　about　the　elk　in　the　redwood　grove。
　Chyna　didn't　know　why　the　elk　mattered　to　Vess　any　more　than　she　could　imagine　why　this　one　stood　here；　now；　unchallenged　by　the　dogs；　studying　her　intently　through　the　window。　She　didn't　puzzle　long　over　this　mystery。　She　was　in　a　mood　to　accept；　to　experience；　to　admit　that　understanding　was　not　always　achievable。
　As　the　deep…purple　sky　turned　to　indigo　and　then　to　India　ink；　the　eyes　of　the　elk　grew　gradually　more　luminous。　They　were　not　red　like　the　eyes　of　some　animals　at　night；　but　golden。
　Pale　plumes　of　breath　streamed　rhythmically　from　its　wet　black　nostrils。
　Without　breaking　eye　contact　with　the　animal；　Chyna　pressed　the　insides　of　her　wrists　together　as　best　she　could　with　the　handcuffs　intervening。　The　steel　chains　rattled：　all　the　lengths　between　her　and　the　chair　on　which　she　sat；　between　her　and　the　table；　between　her　and　the　past。
　She　remembered　her　solemn　pledge；　earlier　in　the　day；　to　kill　herself　rather　than　be　a　witness　to　the　plete　mental　destruction　of　the　young　girl　in　the　cellar。　She　had　believed　that　she　would　be　able　to　find　the　courage　to　bite　open　the　veins　in　her　wrists　and　bleed　to　death。　The　pain　would　be　sharp　but　relatively　brief。。。　and　then　she　would　fade　sleepily　from　this　blackness　into　another；　which　would　be　eternal。
　She　had　stopped　crying。　Her　eyes　were　dry。　Her　heartbeat　was　surprisingly　slow；　like　that　of　a　sleeper　in　the　dreamless　rest　provided　by　a　powerful　sedative。
　She　raised　her　hands　in　front　of　her　face；　bending　them　backward　as　severely　as　possible　and　spreading　her　fingers　wide　so　she　could　still　gaze　into　the　eyes　of　the　elk。
　She　brought　her　mouth　to　the　place　on　her　left　wrist　where　she　would　have　to　bite。　Her　breath　was　warm　on　her　cool　skin。
　The　light　was　entirely　gone　from　the　day。　The　mountains　and　the　heavens　were　like　one　great　black　looming　swell　on　a　night　sea；　a　drowning　weight　ing　down。
　The　elk's　heart…shaped　face　was　barely　visible　from　a　distance　of　only　eight　feet。　Its　eyes；　however；　shone。
　Chyna　put　her　lips　against　her　left　wrist。　In　the　kiss；　she　felt　her　dangerously　steady　pulse。
　Through　the　gloom；　she　and　the　sentinel　elk　watctleci　eacn　otner；　and　she　didn't　know　whether　this　creature　had　mesmerized　her　or　she　had　mesmerized　it。
　Then　she　pressed　her　lips　to　her　right　wrist。　The　same　coolness　of　skin；　the　same　ponderous　pulse。
　She　parted　her　lips　and　used　her　teeth　to　pinch　a　thickness　of　flesh。　There　seemed　to　be　enough　tissue　gathered　between　her　incisors　to　make　a　mortal　tear。　Certainly　she　would　be　successful　if　she　bit　a　second　time；　a　third。
　On　the　brink　of　the　bite；　she　understood　that　it　required　no　courage　whatsoever。　Precisely　the　opposite　was　true。　Not　biting　was　an　act　of　valor。
　But　she　didn't　care　about　valor；　didn't　give　a　rat's　ass　about　courage。　Or　about　anything。　All　she　cared　about　was　putting　an　end　to　the　loneliness；　the　pain；　the　achingly　empty　sense　of　futility。
　And　the　girl。　Ariel。　Down　in　the　hateful　silent　dark。　For　a　while　she　remained　poised　for　the　fatal　nip。　Between　its　solemn　measured　beats；　her　heart　was　filled　with　the　stillness　of　deep　water。
　Then；　without　being　aware　of　releasing　the　pinch　of　flesh　from　between　her　teeth；　Chyna　realized　that　her　lips　were　pressed　to　her　unbitten　wrist　again。　She　could　feel　her　slow　pulse　in　this　kiss　of　life。
　The　elk　was　gone。　Gone。　Chyna　was　surprised　to　see　only　darkness　where　the　creature　had　stood。　She　didn't　believe　that　she　had　closed　her　eyes　or　even　blinked。　Yet　she　must　have　been　in　a　blinding　trance；　because　the　stately　elk　had　vanished　into　the　night　as　mysteriously　as　a　stage　magician's　assistant　dematerializes　beneath　an　artfully　draped　black　shroud。
　Suddenly　her　heart　began　to　pound　hard　and　fast。　〃No；〃　she　whispered　in　the　dark　kitchen；　and　the　word　was　both　a　promise　and　a　prayer。
　Her　heart　like　a　wheel…spinning；　racing…drove　her　out　of　that　internal　grayness　in　which　she　had　been　lost；　out　of　that　bleakness　into　a　brighter　landscape。　〃No。〃　There　was　defiance　in　her　voice　this　time；　and　she　did　not　whisper。　〃No。〃
　She　shook　her　chains　as　if　she　were　a　spirited　horse　trying　to　throw　off　its　traces。
　〃No；　no；　no。　Shit；　no。〃　Her　protests　were　loud　enough　for　her　voice　to　echo　off　the　hard　surface　of　the　refrigerator；　the　glass　in　the　oven　door；　the　ceramic…tile　counters。
　She　tried　to　pull　away　from　the　table　to　stand　up。　But　a　loop　of　chain　secured　her　chair　to　the　barrel　that　supported　the　tabletop；　limiting　its　movement。
　If　she　dug　her　heels　into　the　vinyl…tile　floor　and　attempted　to　scoot　backward；　she　would　probably　not　be　able　to　move　at　all。　At　best　she　would　only　drag　the　heavy　table　with　her　inch　by　inch。　And　in　a　lifetime　of　trying；　she　would　not　be　able　to　put　enough　tension　on　the　chain　to　snap　it。
　She　was　still　adamant　in　her　rejection　of　surrender…〃No；　damn　it；　no　way；　no〃…pressing　the　words　through　clenched　teeth。
　She　reached　forward；　pulling　taut　the　chain　that　led　around　her　back　from　the　left　handcuff　to　the　right。　It　was　wound　between　the　spindles　of　the　rail…back　chair；　behind　the　tie…on　pad。　She　strained；　hoping　to　hear　the　crack　of　dry　wood；　jerked　hard；　harder；　and　sharp　pain　sewed　a　hot　seam　in　her　neck；　the　agony　of　the　clubbing　was　renewed　in　her　neck　and　in　the　right　side　of　her　face；　but　she　would　not　let　pain　stop　her。　She　jerked　harder　than　ever；　scarring　the　nice　furniture　for　damn　sure；　and　again…pull；　pull…firmly　holding　the　chair　down　with　her　body　while　simultaneously　half　lifting　it　off　the　floor　as　she　yanked　furiously　at　the　back　rails；　and　yanked　again；　until　her　biceps　quivered。　Pull。　As　she　grunted　with　effort　and　frustration；　needles　of　pain　stitched　down　the　back　of　her　neck；　across　both　shoulders；　and　into　her　arms。　Pull！　Putting　everything　she　had　into　the　effort；　straining　longer　than　before；　clenching　her　teeth　so　hard　that　tics　developed　in　her　jaw　muscles；　she　pulled　once　more　until　she　felt　the　arteries　throbbing　in　her　temples　and　saw　red　and　silver　pinwheels　of　light　spinning　behind　her　eyelids。　But　she　wasn't　rewarded　with　any　breaking　sounds。　The　chair　was　solid；　the　spindles　were　thick；　and　every　joint　was　well　made。
　Her　heart　boomed；　partly　because　of　her　struggles　but　largely　because　she　was　brimming　with　an　exhilarating　sense　of　liberation。　Which　was　crazy；　crazy；　because　she　was　still　shackled；　no　closer　to　breaking　her　bonds　than　she　had　been　at　any　moment　since　she'd　awakened　in　this　chair。　Yet　she　felt　as　if　she　had　already　escaped　and　was　only　waiting　for　reality　to　catch　up　with　the　freedom　that　she　had　Willed　for　herself。
　She　sat　gasping；　thinking。　Sweat　beaded　her　brow。　Forget　the　chair　for　now。　To　get　loose　from　it；　she　would　have　to　be　able　to　stand　and　move。　She　couldn't　deal　with　the　chair　until　she　was　free　of　the　table。
　She　was　unable　to　reach　down　far　enough　to　unscrew　the　carabiner　that　joined　the　shorter　chain　between　her　ankles　to　the　longer　chain　that　entwined　the　chair　and　the　table。　Otherwise；　she　might　easily　have　freed　her　legs　from　both　pieces　of　furniture。
　If　she　could　overturn　the　table；　the　loop　of　chain　that　wrapped　the　supporting　pedestal　and　connected　with　her　leg　irons　would　then　slide　free　as　the　bottom　of　that　barrel　tipped　up　and　off　the　floor。　Wouldn't　it？　Sitting　in　the　dark；　she　couldn't　quite　visualize　the　mechanics　of　what　she　was　proposing；　but　she　thought　that　turning　the　table　on　its　side　would　work。
　Unfortunately；　the　chair　across　from　hers；　the　one　in　which　Vess　had　sat；　was　an　obstruction　that　would　most　likely　prevent　the　table　from　tipping　over。　She　had　to　get　rid　of　it；　clear　the　way。　Shackled　as　she　was；　however；　and　with　the　barrel　pedestal　intervening；　she　couldn't　extend　her　legs　far　enough　to　kick　at　the　other　chair　and　knock　it　aside。　Hobbled　and　tethered；　she　was　also　unable　to　stand　and　reach　across　the　big　round　table　and　simply　push　the　obstruction　out　of　the　way。
　Finally　she　tried　scooting　backward　in　her　chair；　hoping　to　drag　the　table　with　her；　away　from　Vess's　chair。　The　chain　encircling　the　pedestal　drew　taut。　As　she　strained　backward；　digging　her　heels　into　the　floor；　it　seemed　that　the　piece　was　too　heavy　to　be　dragged；　and　she　wondered　if　the　barrel　was　filled　with　a　bag　of　sand　to　keep　the　table　from　wobbling。　But　then　it　creaked　and　stuttered　a　few　inches　across　the　vinyl　tiles；　rattling　the　sandwich　plate　and　the　glass　of　water　that　stood　on　it。
　This　was　harder　work　than　she　had　anticipated。　She　felt　as　though　she　were　on　one　of　those　television　shows　devoted　to　stunts　and　stupid　physical　challenges；　pulling　a　railroad　car。　A　loaded　railroad　car。　Nevertheless；　the　table　moved　grudgingly。　In　a　couple　of　minutes；　after　pausing　twice　to　get　her　breath；　she　stopped　because　she　was　concerned　that　she　might　back　against　the　wall　between　the　kitchen　and　the　laundry　room；　she　needed　to　leave　herself　some　maneuvering　space。　Although　it　was　difficult　to　estimate　distance　in　the　dark；　she　believed　that　she　had　dragged　the　table　about　thre