dk.intensity-第58章

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　She　pounded　the　hom；　flashed　the　headlights；　and　braked　the　motor　home。　〃Cops！〃　she　told　Ariel。　〃Honey；　see；　everything's　going　to　be　all　right。　We　found　ourselves　some　cops！〃
　The　girl　huddled　forward；　snared　in　her　harness。
　AL　in　response　to　her　horn　and　the　flashing　lights；　the　police　officer　switched　on　his　emergency　beacons；　although　he　didn't　use　his　siren。
　Chyna　pulled　to　the　side　of　the　road　and　stopped。　〃They　can　get　Vess　before　he　discovers　we're　gone　and　tries　to　run。〃
　The　cruiser　had　already　passed　her。　She　had　glimpsed　the　words　SHERIFF'S　DEPARTMENT　in　the　crest　on　the　driver's　door；　and　they　were　the　two　most　glorious　words　in　the　English　language。
　In　the　sideview　mirror；　she　watched　the　car　as　it　hung　a　wide　U…turn　in　the　middle　of　the　road。　It　came　past　her　in　the　southbound　lane　now；　and　it　coasted　to　a　stop　thirty　feet　ahead；　on　the　graveled　shoulder。
　Relieved　and　exhilarated；　Chyna　opened　her　door　and　jumped　down　from　the　driver's　seat。　She　headed　toward　the　cruiser。
　She　could　see　that　only　one　officer　was　in　the　car。　He　was　wearing　a　trooper's　hat　with　a　wide　brim。　He　didn't　seem　to　be　in　any　hurry　to　get　out。
　The　revolving　emergency　beacons　cast　off　gouts　of　red　light　that　streamed　across　the　moonlit　pavement；　and　splashes　of　blue　light　as　in　a　turbulent　dream；　while　the　tall　trees　by　the　side　of　the　road　appeared　to　leap　close　and　then　away；　close　and　then　away。　A　wind　came　out　of　nowhere　to　harry　dead　leaves　and　clouds　of　grit　across　the　blacktop　as　though　the　strobing　beacons　themselves　had　disturbed　the　stillness。
　Almost　halfway　to　the　car；　where　the　policeman　still　sat　behind　the　steering　wheel；　Chyna　remembered　the　files　in　Vess's　study；　and　suddenly　they　meant　something　far　different　from　what　they　had　meant　before；　as　did　the　handcuffs。
　She　stopped。　〃Oh；　Jesus。〃　She　knew。　Chyna　spun　away　from　the　black…and…white　and　sprinted　back　to　the　motor　home。　In　the　flashing　blue　and　red　light；　weighed　down　by　the　fat　moon；　she　felt　as　if　she　were　running　slow　motion　in　a　dream；　through　air　as　thick　as　custard。
　When　she　reached　the　open　door　she　glanced　toward　the　patrol　car。　The　cop　was　getting　out。
　Gasping；　Chyna　climbed　up　into　the　driver's　seat；　pulling　the　door　shut　behind　her。
　The　officer　had　gotten　out　of　the　cruiser。　Edgler　Vess。　Chyna　released　the　emergency　brake。　Vess　opened　fire。
　Sheriff　Edgler　Foreman　Vess；　youngest　sheriff　in　the　county's　history；　watches　the　side　mirror　as　Chyna　Shepherd　hurries　along　the　shoulder　of　the　highway　toward　his　patrol　car；　and　he　wonders　if　this　woman　is；　after　all；　his　blown　tire；　the　destroyer　of　his　bright　future。　When　she　abruptly　stops；　whips　around；　and　races　back　through　the　flashing　lights　toward　the　motor　home；　Mr。　Vess's　alarm　increases。
　At　the　same　time；　he　is　enormously　taken　with　her　and　is　not　entirely　sorry　that　they　met。　
　He　says　aloud；　〃What　a　clever　bitch　you　are。
　Getting　out　of　the　black…and…white；　he　draws　his　revolver；　intending　to　put　a　round　in　one　of　her　legs。　He　still　has　some　hope　of　salvaLyinLy　the　situation。　If　he　can　disable　her　and　get　her　into　the　motor　home　before　another　motorist　es　along；　all　will　be　well。　What　fim　he　will　have　when　he　wraps　her　in　chains　again。　Ariel　won't　lift　a　hand　to　help　this　woman；　and　if　she　tries；　he'll　pistol…whip　the　little　bitch　into　submission；　that　will　spoil　the　plans　he　has　for　her；　but　he's　been　looking　at　her　beautiful　face　for　a　year；　wanting　to　smash　it；　and　the　smashing　will　b；*　enormously　satisfying　even　in　these　circumstances。
　Although　Vess　is　quick　getting　out　of　the　car；　Chyna　is　faster。　By　the　time　he　raises　the　revolver；　she　is　behind　the　wheel　of　the　motor　home；　drawing　the　door　shut。
　He　can't　take　any　chances　now；　can't　risk　merely　wounding　her　to　have　fan　with　her　later。　She　has　to　be　wasted。　He　pumps　six　rounds　through　the　windshield。
　When　Chyna　saw　the　gun　ing　up；　she　shouted；　〃Get　down！〃
　She　pushed　Ariel's　head　below　the　windshield；　throwing　herself　sideways；　half　out　of　her　seat；　across　the　open　console。　She　covered　the　girl　as　best　she　could；　squeezing　her　eyes　tightly　shut　and　shouting　at　the　girl　to　close　hers　too。
　Gunshots　cracked；　one　right　after　the　other；　as　fast　as　Vess　could　squeeze　them　off；　and　the　windshield　imploded。　Sheets　of　gummy　safety　glass　crashed　into　the　front　seats；　spilling　over　Chyna　and　the　girl；　and　things　split　and　shattered　farther　back　in　the　motor　home　as　the　slugs　found　stopping　points。
　She　tried　to　count　the　shots。　She　thought　she　heard　six。　Maybe　only　five。　She　wasn't　sure。　Damn。　Then　she　realized　that　it　didn't　matter　how　many　rounds　he'd　fired；　because　she　hadn't　gotten　a　good　look　at　the　weapon。　She　didn't　know　for　sure　that　it　was　a　revolver。　A　pistol　wouldn't　have　just　six　rounds；　it　could　have　ten　or　more；　a　lot　more　if　it　had　an　expanded　magazine。
　Risking　a　bullet　in　the　face；　Chyna　sat　up；　shaking　off　cascades　of　gummy…prickly　glass；　and　looked　out　through　the　empty　windshield〃　frame。　She　saw　Edgler　Vess　by　the　patrol　car；　thirty　feet　away。　He　was　tipping　the　expended　cartridges　out　of　his　piece；　so　it　had　to　be　a　revolver。
　Already　she　had　released　the　emergency　brake。　Now　she　shifted　the　motor　home　out　of　park。
　Standing　tall；　appearing　cool　and　unhurried　but　nevertheless　nimble…fingered；　Vess　plucked　a　speedloader　from　the　dump　pouch　on　his　gun　belt。
　Thanks　to　her　mother's　criminal　friends；　Chyna　knew　all　about　speedloaders。　Before　Vess　could　reload；　she　took　her　foot　off　the　brake　pedal　and　stomped　the　accelerator。
　Move；　move；　move。
　Slipping　the　speedloader　into　the　revolver　and　twisting　it；　Vess　looked　up　almost　casually　when　he　heard　the　roar　of　the　motor…home　engine。
　Chyna　drove　onto　the　pavement　as　though　she　intended　to　sweep　past　the　patrol　car　and　away；　but　she　was　going　to　run　the　freak　into　the　ground。
　Vess　dropped　the　speedloader；　snapped　the　cylinder　shut。　Afraid　that　Ariel　might　look　up；　Chyna　shouted；　〃Stay　down；　stay　down！〃　She　ducked　her　own　head　just　as　a　slug　smacked　off　the　window　frame　and　ricocheted　back　through　the　vehicle。
　She　raised　her　head　at　once；　because　the　motor　home　was　on　the　move；　and　she　needed　to　see　what　she　was　doing。　She　swung　the　wheel　to　the　right；　heading　for　Vess　at　the　open　door　of　the　patrol　car。
　He　fired　again；　and　she　seemed　to　be　looking　straight　down　the　bore　of　the　barrel　when　the　quick　flame　flared。　She　heard　a　strange　hissing…throbbing…buzzing；　not　unlike　the　lightning…quick　passage　of　a　fat　bumblebee　on　a　summer　afternoon；　and　she　smelled　something　hot；like　singed　hair。
　Vess　dived　into　the　car　to　get　out　of　her　way。　The　motor　home　smashed　into　the　open　door；　ripping　it　away；　maybe　taking　off　one　or　both　of　the　hateful　bastard's　legs　as　well。
　The　fragrance　of　gunfire　always　reminds　Sheriff　Vess　of　the　stink　of　sex；　maybe　because　it　smells　hot　or　maybe　because　there's　a　trace　of　the　same　ammonia　odor　in　gunpowder　that　is　stronger　in　semen；　but　no　matter　what　the　reason；　gunfire　excites　him　and　gives　him　an　instant　erection；　and　when　he　leaps　into　the　car；　he　lets　out　an　exuberant　whoop。　The　roar　of　the　motor　home　is　all　around　him；　bearing　down　on　him；　the　headlights　blazing；　as　much　tumult　as　if　he　were　in　the　middle　of　a　close　encounter　of　the　third　kind。　As　he　dives　for　safety；　he　yanks　his　legs　in　after　himself；　knowing　that　this　is　going　to　be　close；　damn　close；　which　is　what　makes　itfun。　Something　raps　hard　against　his　right　foot；　cold　wind　rushes　in　around　him；　the　driver's　door　tears　off　and　clatters　end　over　end　along　the　blacktop　as　the　motor　home　shrieks　past。
　The　sheriffs　right　foot　is　numb；　and　although　he　feels　no　pain　yet；　he　believes　that　i4might　have　been　crushed　or　even　torn　off。　When　he　sits　up　in　the　driver's　seat；　holsters　his　revolver；　and　reaches　down　with　one　hand　to　feel　for　the　expected　stump　and　the　warm　gush　of　blood；　he　discovers　that　he　is　intact。　The　heel　was　torn　off　his　boot。　just　that。　No　worse。　The　rubber　heel。
　His　foot　is　numb；　and　his　calf　tingles　all　the　way　to　the　knee；　but　the　sheriff　laughs。
　〃You'll　pay　for　the　shoe　repair；　you　bitch。〃
　The　motor　home　is　two　hundred　feet　from　him；　heading　south。　Because　he　never　switched　off　the　engine　when　he　pulled　onto　the　shoulder　of　the　highway；　he　needs　only　to　release　the　hand　brake　and　shift　into　drive。　The　tires　kick　up　a　storm　of　gravel　that　thunders　against　the　undercarriage。　The　black…and…white　lurches　forward。　Hot　rubber　shrieks　like　babies　in　pain；　bites　into　the　blacktop；　and　Vess　rockets　after　the　motor　home。
　Too　late；　distracted　by　his　numb　foot　and　recklessly　eager　to　get　his　hands　on　the　woman；　he　realizes　that　the　big　vehicle　is　no　longer　heading　south。　It's　reversing　toward　him　at　maybe　thirty　iles　an　hour；　even　faster。
　He　slams　his　foot　down　on　the　brake　pedal；　but　before　he　can　pull　the　wheel　to　the　left　to　get　out　of　the　way；　the　motor　home　crashes　into　him　with　a　horrendous　sound；　and　it's　like　hitting　a　rock　wall。　His　head　snaps　back；　and　then　he　pitches　forward　against　the　steering　wheel　so　hard　that　all　the　breath　is　knocked　out　of　him；　while　a　dizzying　darkness　swirls　at　the　edges　of　his　vision。
　The　hood　buckles　and　pops　open；　and　he　can't　see　a　damn　thing　through　the　windshield。　But　he　hears　his　tires　spinning　and　smells　burning　rubber。　The　patrol　car　is　being　pushed　backward；　and　though　the　collision　dramatically　slowed　the　motor　home　for　a　moment；　it's　picking　up　speed　again。
　He　tries　to　shift　the　black…and…white　into　reverse；　figuring　that　he　can　back　away　from　the　motor　home　even　as　it's　pushing　at　him；　but　the　stick　first　stutters　stubbornly　in　his　hand；　clunks　into　neutral；　and　then　freezes。　The　transmission　is　shot。
　As　bad：　He　suspects　that　the　smashed　front　end　of　the　car　is　hung　up　on　the　back　of　the　motor　home。
　She's　going　to　push　him　off　the　highway。　In　some　places　the　drop…off　from　the　shoulder　is　eight　or　ten　feet　and　steep　enough　virtually　to　ensure　that　the　patrol　car　will　tumble　ass…over…teakettle　if　it　goes　over　the　edge。　Worse；　if　they　are　hung　up　on　each　other；　and　if　the　woman　doesn't　have　full　control　of　the　motor　home；　she'll　most　likely　roll　it　off　the　road　on　top　of　the　black…and…white；　crushing　him。
　Hell；　maybe　that's　what　she's　trying　to　do。　She's　a　damn　singularity；　all　right；　in　her　own　way　just　like　him。　He　admires　her　for　it。
　He　smells　gasoline。　This　is　not　a　good　place　to　be。　To　the　right　of　the　center　console　and　the　police　radio　（which　he　switched　off　when　he　first　saw　the　motor　home　and　realized　that　it　was　his　own）；　a　pump…action　2o…gauge　shotgun　is　mounted　barrel…up　in　spring　clips　attached　to　the　dashboard。　It　has　a　five…shell　magazine；　which　Sheriff　Vess　always　keeps　loaded。
　He　grabs　the　shotgun；　wrenches　it　out　of　the　clips；　holds　it　in　both　hands；　and　slides　left　from　behind　the　steering　wheel。　He　bails　out　through　the　missing　door。
　They're　reversing　at　twenty　or　twenty…five　miles　an　hour；　rapidly　gaining　speed　because　the　car　is　in　neutral　and　no　longer　resisting　the　backward　rush。　The　pavement　es　up　to　meet　him　as　though　he's　a　parachutist　with　huge　holes　in　his　silks。　He　hits　and　rolls；　keeping　his　arms　tucked　in　against　his　body　in　the　hope　that　he　won't　break　any　bones；　fiercely　clutching　the　shotgun；　tumbling　diagonally