dk.intensity-第50章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


achment　of　a　novitiate　in　the　thrall　of　a　holy　visitation；　her　head　spinning　with　visions；　she　got　up　from　the　armchair。　After　taking　only　two　steps　toward　the　door；　however；　she　stopped　and　would　not　go　farther　in　spite　of　Chyna's　pleas。　The　girl　might　be　able　to　envision　an　imaginary　world　in　which　she　could　find　a　fragile　peace；　a　Wild　Wood　of　her　own；　but　perhaps　she　was　no　longer　able　to　imagine　that　this　world　extended　beyond　the　walls　of　her　cell　and；　failing　to　visualize　it；　could　not　cross　the　threshold　into　it。
　Chyna　released　Ariel's　hand。　She　selected　a　doll…a　bisque　charmer　with　golden　ringlets　and　painted　green　eyes；　wearing　a　white　eyelet　pinafore　over　a　blue　dress。　She　pressed　it　against　the　girl's　breast　and　encouraged　her　to　embrace　it。　She　wasn't　sure　why　the　collection　was　here；　but　perhaps　Ariel　liked　the　dolls；　in　which　case　she　might　e　along　more　readily　if　given　one　for　fort。
　Initially；　Ariel　was　unresponsive；　standing　with　one　hand　still　fisted　at　her　side　and　the　other　like　a　half…open　crab　claw。　Then；　without　shifting　her　gaze　from　faraway　things；　she　took　the　doll　in　both　hands；　gripping　it　by　the　legs。　Like　the　shadow　of　a　bird　in　flight；　a　fierce　expression　crossed　her　face　and　was　gone　before　it　could　be　clearly　read。　She　turned；　swung　the　doll　as　if　it　were　a　sledgehammer；　and　smashed　its　head　into　the　top　of　the　dinette　table；　shattering　the　unglazed…china　face。
　Startled；　Chyna　said；　〃Honey；　no；〃　and　gripped　the　girl　by　the　shoulder。
　Ariel　wrenched　away　from　Chyna　and　slammed　the　doll　into　the　table　again；　harder　than　before；　and　Chyna　stepped　backward；　not　in　fear　but　in　respect　of　the　girl's　fury。　And　fury　it　was；　a　righteous　anger；　not　merely　an　autistic　spasm；　in　spite　of　the　fact　that　she　remained　expressionless。
　She　pounded　the　doll　against　the　table　repeatedly；　until　its　smashed　head　broke　and　spun　across　the　room　and　bounced　off　a　wall；　until　both　its　arms　cracked　and　fell　away；　until　it　was　ruined　beyond　repair。　Then　she　dropped　it　and　stood　trembling；　arms　hanging　at　her　sides。　She　was　still　staring　into　the　Elsewhere　and　was　no　more　with　Chyna　than　she　had　ever　been。
　From　the　bookcases；　from　atop　the　cabinets；　from　the　shadowed　corners　of　the　room；　the　dolls　watched　intently；　as　if　they　were　thrilled　by　her　outburst　and　in　some　strange　way　feeding　on　it　as　Vess　himself　would　have　fed　if　he'd　been　there　to　see。
　Chyna　wanted　to　put　her　arms　around　the　girl；　but　the　handcuffs　made　it　impossible　to　embrace　her。　Instead；　she　touched　Ariel's　face　and　kissed　her　on　the　forehead。　〃Ariel；　untouched　and　alive。〃
　Rigid；　shaking；　Ariel　neither　pulled　away　from　Chyna　nor　leaned　toward　her。　Gradually　the　girl's　trembling　subsided。
　〃I　need　your　help；〃　Chyna　pleaded。　〃I　need　you。〃
　This　time；　as　if　sleepwalking；　Ariel　allowed　herself　to　be　led　from　the　cell。
　They　crossed　the　fallen　door　through　the　vestibule。　In　the　cellar；　Chyna　picked　up　the　drill　from　the　floor；　plugged　it　into　the　power　strip　on　the　wall；　and　put　it　on　the　workbench。
　She　had　no　timepiece　for　reference；　but　she　was　sure　that　nine　o'clock　had　e　and　gone。　In　the　night　were　dogs　waiting　and　Edgler　Vess　somewhere　at　work；　bemused　by　waking　dreams　of　returning　home　to　his　pair　of　captives。
　Trying　unsuccessfully　to　get　the　girl's　eyes　to　focus　on　her；　Chyna　explained　what　they　needed　to　do。　She　might　be　able　to　drive　the　motor　home　while　handcuffed；　though　not　without　some　difficulty；　as　she　would　have　to　let　go　of　the　steering　wheel　to　shift　gears。　Dealing　with　the　dogs　while　cuffed　would　be　a　lot　harder。　Perhaps　impossible。　If　they　were　to　make　the　best　use　of　the　time　remaining　before　Vess's　return；　and　if　they　were　to　have　the　best　chance　of　getting　away；　Ariel　was　going　to　have　to　drill　out　the　locks　on　the　manacles。
　The　girl　gave　no　indication　that　she　heard　a　word　of　what　Chyna　told　her。　Indeed；　before　Chyna　finished；　Ariel's　lips　were　moving　again　in　a　silent　conversation　with　some　phantom；　she　didn't　〃speak〃　ceaselessly　but　paused　from　time　to　time　as　if　receiving　a　response　from　an　imaginary　friend。
　Nevertheless；　Chyna　showed　her　how　to　hold　the　drill　and　press　the　trigger。　The　girl　didn't　blink　at　the　sudden　shriek　of　the　motor　and　the　air…cutting　whistle　of　the　whirling　bit。
　〃Now　you　hold　it；〃　Chyna　said。
　Oblivious；　Ariel　stood　with　her　arms　at　her　sides；　hands　half　open　and　fingers　hooked　as　they　had　been　since　she　had　dropped　the　ruined　doll。
　〃We　don't　have　much　time；　honey。〃
　In　her　clockless　Elsewhere；　time　meant　nothing　to　Ariel。　Chyna　put　the　drill　on　the　workbench。　She　drew　the　girl　in　front　of　the　tool　and　placed　her　hands　on　it。
　Ariel　didn't　pull　away　or　let　her　hands　slide　off　the　drill；　but　she　didn't　lift　it　either。
　Chyna　knew　that　the　girl　heard　her；　understood　the　situation；　and；　on　some　level；　yearned　to　help。
　〃Our　hopes　are　in　your　hands；　honey。　You　can　do　it。〃
　She　retrieved　the　workbench　stool　from　the　outer　vestibule　door；　which　it　had　been　propping　open；　and　sat　down。　She　put　her　hands　on　the　workbench；　wrists　turned　to　expose　the　tiny　keyhole　on　the　left　manacle。
　Staring　at　the　concrete…block　wall；　tbrough　the　wall；　speaking　soundlessly　to　a　psychic　friend　beyond　all　walls；　Ariel　seemed　to　be　unaware　of　the　drill。　Or　to　her　it　might　have　been　not　a　drill　but　another　object　altogether；　one　that　filled　her　either　with　hope　or　with　fear；　the　thing　of　which　she　spoke　to　her　phantom　friend。
　Even　if　the　girl　picked　up　the　drill　and　focused　her　eyes　on　the　manacle；　the　chance　that　she　would　be　able　to　perform　this　task　seemed　slim。　The　chance　that　she　would　avoid　boring　through　Chyna's　palm　or　wrist　seemed　slimmer　still。
　On　the　other　hand；　although　the　likelihood　of　salvation　from　any　trouble　or　enemy　in　this　life　was　always　slim；　Chyna　had　survived　uncounted　nights　of　blood　rage　and　questing　lust。　Survival　was　far　different　from　salvation；　of　course；　but　it　was　a　prerequisite。
　Anyway；　she　was　ready　to　do　now　what　she　had　never　been　able　to　do　before；　not　even　with　Laura　Templeton：　trust。　Trust　without　reservation。　And　if　this　girl　tried　and　failed；　let　the　drill　slip　and　damaged　flesh　rather　than　steel；　Chyna　wasn't　going　to　blame　her　for　the　failure。　Sometimes；　just　trying　was　a　triumph。
　And　she　knew　Ariel　wanted　to　try。　She　knew。　For　a　minute　or　so；　Chyna　encouraged　the　girl　to　begin；　and　when　that　didn't　work；　she　tried　waiting　in　silence。　But　silence　led　her　thoughts　to　the　bronze　stags　and　the　clock　over　which　they　leaped　on　the　living　room　mantel；　and　in　her　mind's　eye　the　clock　acquired　the　face　of　the　young　man　who　hung　in　the　motor　home　closet；　eyelids　tightly　stitched　and　lips　sewn　shut　in　a　silence　even　deeper　than　that　in　the　cellar。
　With　no　calculation；　surprised　to　hear　what　she　was　doing　but　relying　on　instinct；　Chyna　began　to　tell　Ariel　what　had　happened　on　the　long…ago　night　of　her　eighth　birthday：　the　cottage　in　Key　West；　the　storm；　Jim　Woltz；　the　frantic　palmetto　beetle　under　the　low…slung　iron　bed　。。。
　Drunk　on　Dos　Equis　and　high　on　a　pair　of　small　white　pills　that　he　had　popped　with　the　first　bottle　of　beer；　Woltz　had　teased　Chyna　because　she　had　failed　to　blow　out　all　the　candles　on　her　birthday　cake　in　a　single　breath；　leaving　one　aflame。
　〃This　is　bad　luck；　kid。　Oh；　man；　this　brings　a　world　of　grief　down　on　us。　If　you　don't　get　all　the　candles　out；　you　invite　gremlins　and　trolls　into　your　life；　all　sorts　of　bad　characters　after　your　stash　and　cash。〃
　Just　then　the　night　sky　had　convulsed　with　white　light；　and　the　shadows　of　palm　fronds　had　leaped　across　the　kitchen　windows。　The　cottage　rattled　in　the　shock　waves　of　thunderclaps　as　hard　as　bomb　blasts；　and　the　storm　broke。
　〃See？〃　Woltz　said。　〃If　we　don't　rectify　this　situation　right　away；　then　some　bad　guys　will　get　the　best　of　us　and　chop　us　up　into　bloody　chunks　and　put　us　in　bait　buckets　and　go　out　on　some　deep…sea　boat；　trolling　for　sharks；　using　us　as　chum。　Do　you　want　to　be　shark　chum；　kid？〃
　This　speech　frightened　Chyna；　but　her　mother　found　it　amusing。　Her　mother　had　been　drinking　vodka　with　lemonade　since　late　afternoon。
　Woltz　relit　the　candles　and　insisted　that　Chyna　try　once　more。
　When　she　failed　again　to　extinguish　more　than　seven　with　one　breath；　Woltz　seized　her　hand；　licked　her　thumb　and　index　finger；　his　tongue　lingering　in　a　way　that　disgusted　her；　and　then　forced　her　to　snuff　the　remaining　flame　by　pinching　the　candlewick。　Although　there　was　a　brief　hotness　against　her　skin；　she　had　not　been　burned；　however；　her　fingers　had　been　marked　with　black　smudges　from　the　smoking　wick；　and　the　sight　of　them　had　terrified　her。
　When　Chyna　began　to　cry；　Woltz　held　her　by　one　arm；　keeping　her　in　her　chair；　while　Anne　relit　the　eight；　insisting　that　she　try　again。　The　third　time；　Chyna　was　able　to　extinguish　only　six　candles　with　her　first　shuddery　breath。　When　Woltz　attempted　to　make　her　pinch　both　flames　with　her　fingers；　she　pulled　loose　and　ran　out　of　the　kitchen；　intending　to　flee　to　the　beach；　but　lightning　had　shattered　like　bright　mirrors　around　the　cottage；　the　night　flashing　with　sharp　silver　fragments；　and　thunder　as　fierce　as　the　cannonades　of　warships　boomed　out　of　the　Gulf　of　Mexico；　so　she　had　fled　instead　to　the　small　room　in　which　she　slept；　crawled　under　the　sagging　bed；　into　those　secret　shadows　where　the　palmetto　beetle　waited。
　〃Woltz；　the　stinking　sonofabitch；　came　through　the　house　after　me；〃　Chyna　told　Ariel；　〃shouting　my　name；　knocking　over　furniture；　slamming　doors；　saying　he　was　going　to　chop　me　up　for　chum　and　then　scatter　me　in　the　sea。　Later　I　realized　it　was　an　act。　He'd　been　trying　to　scare　the　crap　out　of　me。　He　always　liked　to　scare　me；　make　me　cry；　'cause　I　didn't　cry　easily　。。。　never　easily。　。　。〃
　Chyna　stopped；　unable　to　go　on。　Ariel　stared　not　toward　the　wall；　as　before；　but　down　at　the　power　drill　on　which　her　hands　were　placed。　Whether　she　saw　the　drill　was　another　matter；　her　eyes　were　still　far　away。
　The　girl　might　not　be　listening；　yet　Chyna　felt　pelled　to　tell　the　rest　of　what　had　happened　that　night　in　Key　West。
　This　was　the　first　time　she　had　ever　revealed　to　anyone；　other　than　Laura；　any　of　the　things　that　had　happened　to　her　when　she　was　a　child。　Shame　had　always　silenced　her；　which　was　inexplicable　because　none　of　the　degradation　she　endured　had　resulted　from　her　own　actions。　She　had　been　a　victim；　small　and　defenseless；　yet　she　was　burdened　with　the　shame　that　all　her　tormentors；　including　her　mother；　were　incapable　of　feeling。
　She　had　hidden　some　of　the　worst　details　of　her　past　even　from　Laura　Templeton；　her　only　good　friend。　Often；　on　the　brink　of　a　revelation　to　Laura；　she　would　pull　back　from　disclosure　and　speak　not　about　the　events　that　she　had　endured　and　not　about　the　people　who　had　tormented　her　but　about　places…Key　West；　Mendocino　County；　New　Orleans；　San　Francisco；　Wyoming…where　she　had　lived。　She　was　lyrical　when　the　subject　was　the　natural　beauty　of　mountains；　plains；　bayous；　or　low　moonlit　breakers　rolling　in　from　the　Gulf　of　Mexico；　but　she　could　feel　anger　tightening　her　face　and　shame　coloring　it　when　she　told　the　harder　truths　about　the　friends　of　Anne　who　had　populated　her　childhood。
　Now　her　throat　was　tight。　She　was　curiously　aware　of　the　weight　of　her　heart；　like　a