dk.intensity-第48章

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uracy　with　which　a　woman　named　Memphis　had　fired　two　rounds。
　Memory；　however；　always　has　its　way。　The　visitors；　who'd　done　business　with　Zack　and　Memphis　before；　had　been　there　to　make　a　drug　purchase。　The　cooler　had　been　filled　with　packets　of　hundred…dollar　bills。　Maybe　Zack　didn't　have　the　promised　shipment；　or　maybe　he　and　Memphis　just　needed　more　money　than　they　could　get　from　a　sale；　whatever　the　reason；　they　had　decided　to　rip　off　the　two　men。
　After　the　gunfire；　Chyna　had　hidden　in　the　barn　loft；　certain　that　Memphis　would　kill　them　all。　When　Memphis　and　Anne　found　her；　she　fought　them　bitterly。　But　she　was　only　seven　years　old　and　no　match　for　them。　With　owls　hooting　in　alarm　and　taking　flight　from　the　rafters；　the　women　dragged　Chyna　out　of　the　mice…infested　hay　and　carried　her　to　the　house。
　Zack　had　been　gone　by　then；　having　taken　the　bodies　elsewhere；　and　Memphis　had　cleaned　up　the　blood　in　the　kitchen　while　Anne　had　forced　Chyna　to　drink　a　shot　of　whiskey。　Chyna　didn't　want　the　whiskey；　sealed　her　lips　against　it；　but　Anne　said；　〃You're　a　wreck；　for　Christ's　sake；　you　can't　stop　blubbering；　and　one　shot　isn't　going　to　hurt　you。　This　is　what　you　need；　kiddo；　trust　Mama；　this　is　what　you　need。　A　shot　of　good　whiskey　will　break　a　fever；　you　know；　and　what　you've　got　now　is　a　kind　of　fever。　e　on；　you　little　wuss；　it's　not　poison。　Jesus；　you　can　be　a　whiny　little　shit　sometimes。　Either　you　drink　it　quick；　or　I'll　hold　you　down　and　pinch　your　nose　shut；　and　Memphis　will　pour　it　in　when　you　open　your　mouth　to　breathe。　That　how　you　want　it？〃　So　Chyna　drank　the　whiskey；　and　then　took　a　second　shot　with　a　few　ounces　of　milk　when　her　mother　decided　that　she　needed　it。　The　booze　made　her　dizzy　and　strange　but　did　not　calm　her。
　She　had　appeared　calmer　to　them　because；　good　little　fisher　that　she　was；　she'd　caught　her　fear　and　reeled　it　inside；　where　they　could　not　see　it。　Even　by　the　age　of　seven；　she　had　begun　to　understand　that　a　show　of　fear　was　dangerous；　because　others　interpreted　it　as　weakness；　and　there　was　no　place　in　this　world　for　the　weak。
　Later　that　night；　Zack　had　returned　with　whiskey　on　bis　breath　too。　He　was　exuberant；　in　a　raucous　and　celebratory　mood。　He　came　straight　to　Chyna　and　hugged　her；　kissed　her　on　the　cheek；　took　her　by　the　hands　and　tried　to　make　her　dance　with　him。
　〃That　bastard　Bobby；　the　last　time　he　was　here；　1　knew　by　the　way　he　couldn't　take　his　eyes　off　Chyna　that　he　was　hot　for　little　girls；　a　genuine　sicko；　so　tonight　he　walks　in　and　his　tongue　just　about　uncurls　to　his　knees　when　tie　sees　nen　You　couia；ve　snot　tne　geek　11alt　a　dozen　times；　Memphis；　before　he　might've　noticed！〃
　　Bobby　had　been　the　man　sitting　at　the　kitchen　table；　talking　to　Chyna；　his　beautiful　gray　eyes　fixed　intently　on　her；　speaking　directly　to　her　in　a　way　that　few　adults；　ever　spoke　to　kids；　asking　whether　she　liked　kittens　or　puppies　best　and　did　she　want　to　grow　up　to　be　a　famous　movie　star　or　a　nurse　or　a　doctor　or　what；　when　Memphis　shot　him　in　the　head。
　〃The　way　our　Chyna　girl　was　dressed；〃　Zack　said　excitedly；　〃Bobby　just　about　totally　forgot　anyone　else　was　here。〃
　The　night　was　hot　and　swamp…humid；　and　before　the　visitors　arrived；　Chyna's　mother　made　her　change　out　of　her　shorts　and　T…shirt　into　a　brief　yellow　bikini　swimsuit：　〃But　only　the　bottoms　because；　child；　you're　going　to　get　heatstroke　in　this　weather。〃　Although　only　seven；　Chyna　was　old　enough　to　feel　peculiar　about　going　bare…chested；　even　if　she　didn't　quite　know　why　she　felt　that　way。　She'd　gone　bare…chested　when　she　was　younger；　even　just　the　previuas　summer；　when　she　was　six；　and　it　was　an　awfully　hot；　sticky　night。　When　Zack　said　that　the　way　she　was　dressed　had　something　to　do　with　Bobby's　forgetting　that　anyone　else　was　in　the　room；　Chyna　didn't　uriderstand　what　he　meant。　Years　later；　when　she　did　understand；　she　bad　confronted　her　mother　with　it。
　　Anne　had　laughed　and　said；　〃Oh；　baby；　don't　get　self…righteous　on　me。　We　get　along　by　using　what　we've　got；　and　one　sure　thing　we　girls　have　is　our　bodies。　You　were　the　perfect　distraction。　Anyway；　poor　dumb　old　Bobby　never　touched　you；　did　he？　He　just　got　to　gawk　at　you　a　little；　that's　all；　while　Memphis　went　for　the　gun。　Don't　forget；　sweetie；　we　were　cut　in　for　a　piece　of　that　pie　and　lived　well　on　it　for　a　while。〃
　　And　Chyna　had　wanted　to　say；　but　you　used　me；　you　put　me　right　there　in　front　of　him　where　I'd　see　his　head　e　apart；　and　I　was　only　seven！
　All　these　years　later；　in　Edgler　Vess's　study；　she　could　still　hear　the　crash　of　the　shot　and　see　Bobby's　face　explode；　the　memory　was　as　vivid　as　ever　it　had　been。　She　didn't　know　what　gun　Memphis　used；　but　the　ammunition　must　have　been　high…caliber　hollow…point　lead　wadcutters　that　expanded　on　impact；　because　the　damage　they　inflicted　had　been　tremendois。
　She　lowered　her　hands　from　her　face　and　looked　at　the　open　file　cabinet。　Vess　bad　used　three　formats　of　folders；　with　staggered　tab　placement；　so　it　was　easy　for　Chyna　to　see　all　the　names　along　the　length　of　the　drawer。　Much　farther　back　from　the　Almes　file　was　one　labeled　TEMPLETON。
　She　pushed　the　drawer　shut　with　her　foot。　She'd　found　too　much　in　this　study…yet　nothing　helpful。　Before　leaving　the　second　floor；　she　turned　off　all　the　lights。　If　Vess　came　home　early；　before　Chyna　could　get　away　with　Ariel；　the　lights　would　warn　him　that　something　was　amiss。　He　would　be　lulled　by　darkness；　however；　and　as　he　crossed　the　threshold；　she　might　have　one　last　chance　to　kill　him。
　She　hoped　it　wouldn't　e　to　that。　In　spite　of　her　fantasies　of　pulling　the　trigger　on　Vess；　Chyna　didn't　want　to　have　to　confront　him　again；　even　if　she　found　a　shotgun　and　loaded　it　herself　and　had　an　opportunity　to　test　fire　it　before　he　arrived。　She　was　a　survivor；　and　she　was　a　fighter；　but　Vess　was　more　than　either：　as　unreachable　as　stars；　something　e　down　from　a　high　darkness。　She　was　no　match　for　him；　and　she　didn't　want　another　chance　to　prove　it。
　One　tread　at　a　time；　balanced　against　the　handrail；　as　fast　as　she　dared；　Chyna　went　down　to　the　living　room。　None　of　the　Dobermans　was　at　the　undraped　window。
　The　mantel　clock　put　the　time　at　twenty…two　minutes　past　eight；　and　suddenly　the　night　seemed　to　be　a　sled　on　a　slope　of　ice；　picking　up　speed。
　She　extinguished　the　lamp　and　shuffled　through　darkness　to　the　kitchen。　There　she　turned　on　the　fluorescent　lights；　only　to　avoid　tripping　in　the　debris；　falling；　and　cutting　herself　on　broken　glass。
　No　Dobermans　were　on　the　back　porch　either。　At　the　window；　only　the　night　waited。
　Entering　the　windowless　laundry　room；　she　shut　off　the　kitchen　lights　behind　her　and　pulled　the　door　shut。
　Down　to　the　cellar；　then；　to　the　workbench　and　cabinets　that　she　had　seen　earlier。
　In　the　tall　metal　cabinets　with　the　vent　slits　in　the　doors；　she　found　cans　of　paint　and　lacquer；　paintbrushes；　and　drop　cloths　folded　as　precisely　as　fine　linen　sheets。　One　entire　cabinet　was　filled　with　thick　pads　from　which　dangled　black　leather　straps　with　chrome…plated　buckles；　she　didn't　have　any　idea　what　they　were；　and　she　left　them　undisturbed。　In　the　final　cabinet；　Vess　stored　several　power　tools；　including　an　electric　drill。
　In　one　of　the　drawers　on　the　big　wheeled　tool　chest；　she　located　an　extensive　collection　of　drill　bits　in　three　clear　plastic　boxes。　She　also　found　a　pair　of　Plexiglas　safety　goggles。
　A　power　strip　with　eight　outlets　was　attached　to　the　wall　behind　the　workbench；　but　a　duplex　receptacle　was　also　available　low　on　the　wall　beside　the　bench。　She　needed　the　lower　outlet；　because　it　allowed　her　to　sit　on　the　floor。
　Although　the　drill　bits　weren't　labeled　except　as　to　size；　Chyna　figured　that　they　were　all　meant　for　woodworking　and　would　not　bore　easily…if　at　all…through　steel。　She　didn't　want　to　pierce　the　steel　anyway；　she　wanted　only　to　screw　up　the　lock　mechanisms　on　her　leg　irons　enough　to　spring　them　open。
　She　chose　a　bit　approximately　the　size　of　the　leg…iron　keyway；　fitted　it　into　the　chuck；　and　tightened　it。　When　she　held　the　drill　in　both　hands　and　squeezed　the　trigger；　it　issued　a　shrill　whine。　The　spiral　throat　of　the　slender　bit　spun　so　fast　that　it　blurred　until　it　seemed　as　smooth　and　harmless　as　the　shank。
　Chyna　released　the　trigger；　set　the　silent　drill　aside　on　the　floor；　and　put　on　the　protective　goggles。　She　was　disconcerted　by　the　thought　that　Vess　had　worn　these　goggles。　Strangely；　she　expected　that　everything　she　saw　through　them　would　be　distorted；　as　if　the　molecules　of　the　lenses　had　been　transformed　by　the　magnetic　power　with　which　Vess　drew　all　the　sights　of　his　world　to　his　eyes。
　But　what　she　saw　through　the　goggles　was　no　different　from　what　she　saw　without　them；　although　her　field　of　vision　was　circumscribed　by　the　frames。
　She　picked　up　the　drill　with　both　hands　again　and　inserted　the　tip　of　the　bit　into　the　keyway　on　the　shackle　that　encircled　her　left　ankle。　When　she　pressed　the　trigger；　steel　spun　against　steel　with　a　hellish　shriek。　The　bit　stuttered　violently；　jumped　out　of　the　keyway；　and　skipped　across　the　two…inch…wide　shackle；　spitting　tiny　sparks。　If　her　reflexes　hadn't　been　good；　the　whirling　auger　would　have　bored　through　her　foot；　but　she　released　the　trigger　and　jerked　up　on　the　drill　just　in　time　to　avoid　disaster。
　The　lock　might　have　been　damaged。　She　couldn't　be　sure。　But　it　was　still　engaged；　and　the　shackle　was　secure。
　She　inserted　the　bit　into　the　keyway　again。　She　gripped　the　drill　tighter　than　before　and　bore　down　with　more　effort　to　keep　the　bit　from　kicking　out　of　the　hole。　Steel　shrieked；　shrieked；　and　blue　wisps　of　foul…smelling　smoke　rose　from　the　grinding　point；　and　the　vibrating　shackle　pressed　painfully　into　her　ankle　in　spite　of　the　intervening　sock。　The　drill　shook　in　her　hands；　which　were　suddenly　damp　with　cold　sweat　from　the　strain　of　controlling　it。　A　spray　of　metal　slivers　swirled　up　from　the　keyway；　spattered　her　face。　The　bit　snapped；　and　the　broken…off　end　zinged　past　her　head；　rang　off　the　concrete…block　wall　hard　enough　to　take　a　chip　out　of　it；　and　clinked　like　a　half…spent　bullet　across　the　cellar　floor。
　Her　left　cheek　stung；　and　she　found　a　splinter　of　steel　embedded　in　her　flesh。　It　was　about　a　quarter　of　an　inch　long　and　as　thin　as　a　sliver　of　glass。　She　was　able　to　grasp　it　between　her　fingernails　and　pluck　it　free。　The　tiny　puncture　was　bleeding；　she　had　blood　on　her　fingertips　and　felt　a　thin　warm　trickle　making　its　way　down　her　face　to　the　corner　of　her　mouth。
　She　freed　the　shank　of　the　broken　bit　from　the　drill　and　threw　it　aside。　She　selected　a　slightly　larger　bit　and　tightened　it　into　the　jaws　of　the　chuck。
　Again；　she　drilled　the　keyway。　The　shackle　around　her　left　ankle　popped　open。　Not　more　than　a　minute　later；　the　lock　on　the　other　shackle　cracked　too。
　Chyna　put　the　drill　aside　and　rose　shakily　to　her　feet；　every　muscle　in　her　legs　trembling。　She　was　shaky　not　because　of　her　many　pains；　not　because　of　her　hunger　and　weakness；　but　because　she　had　freed　herself　from　the　shackles　after　having　been　in　despair　only　a　couple　of　hours　before。　She　had　freed　herse4（
　She　was　still　handcuffed；　however；　and　she　could　not　hold　the　drill　one…handed　while　she　bored　out　the　lock　on　each　manacle。　But　she　already　had　an　idea　about　h