cb.damnationgame-第53章

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own　to　her　without　her　having　to　go　up　and　fetch　him。　But　her　inquiry　was　met　with　silence；　and　the　night　wasn't　getting　any　younger。　The　European　might　e　to　the　door　at　any　moment。
　　Unwillingly；　she　started　up　the　stairs。
　　
　　Marty　had　never　understood　until　now。　He'd　been　a　virgin；　living　in　a　world　innocent　of　this　deep　and　exhilarating　penetration；　not　simply　of　body；　of　mind　too。　The　air　in　the　room　closed　around　his　head　as　soon　as　he　stepped　into　it。　The　plates　of　his　skull　seemed　to　grind　against　each　other；　the　voice　of　the　room；　no　longer　needing　its　whispered　tones；　shouted　in　his　brain。　So　you　came？　Of　course　you　came。　Wele　to　Wonderland。　He　was　dimly　aware　that　it　was　his　own　voice　that　was　speaking　these　words。　It　had　probably　been　his　voice　all　along。　He　had　been　talking　to　himself　like　a　lunatic。　Even　though　he'd　now　seen　through　the　trick；　the　voice　came　again；　lower　this　time…This　is　a　fine　place　to　find　yourself　in；　don't　you　think？
　　At　the　question；　he　looked　around。　There　was　nothing　to　see；　not　even　walls。　If　there　were　windows　in　the　room；　they　were　hermetically　sealed。　Not　a　chink　of　the　outside　world　belonged　in　here。
　　〃I　don't　see　anything；〃　he　murmured　in　reply　to　the　room's　boast。
　　The　voice　laughed；　he　laughed　with　it。
　　Nothing　here　to　be　frightened　of；　it　said。　Then；　after　a　smirking　pause：　Nothing　here　at　all。
　　And　that　was　right；　wasn't　it？　Nothing　at　all。　It　wasn't　just　darkness　that　kept　him　sightless；　it　was　the　room　itself。　He　glanced　giddily　over　his　shoulder：　he　could　no　longer　see　the　door　behind　him；　even　though　he　knew　he　had　left　it　open　when　he　came　in。　There　should　have　been　at　least　a　glimmer　of　light　from　downstairs　spilling　into　the　room。　But　that　illumination　had　been　eaten　up；　as　was　the　beam　of　his　flashlight。　A　smothering　gray　fog　pressed　so　close　to　his　eyes　that　even　if　he　lifted　his　hand　up　in　front　of　him　he　could　see　nothing。
　　You're　all　right　here；　the　room　soothed　him。　No　judges　here；　no　bars　here。
　　〃Am　I　blind？〃　he　asked。
　　No；　the　room　replied。　You're　seeing　truly　for　the　first　time。
　　〃I　。　。　。　don't　。　。　。　like　it。〃　Of　course　you　don't。　But　you'll　learn　in　time。　Living's　not　for　you。　Ghosts　of　ghosts；　the　living　are。　You　want　to　lie　down；　be　done　with　that　caper。　Nothing's　essential；　boy。
　　〃I　want　to　leave。〃　Would　I　tell　you　lies？
　　〃I　want　to　leave　。　。　。　please。〃　You're　in　safe　hands。
　　〃Please。〃　He　stumbled　forward；　confused　as　to　which　way　the　door　was。　In　front；　or　behind？　Arms　spread　before　him　like　a　blind　man　on　a　cliff　edge；　he　reeled；　looking　for　some　point　of　security。　This　wasn't　the　adventure　he'd　thought　it　would　be；　it　was　nothing。　Nothing　is　essential。　Once　stepped　into；　this　boundless　nowhere　had　neither　distance　nor　depth；　north　nor　south。　And　everything　outside　it…the　stairs；　the　landing；　the　stairs　below　that；　the　hallway；　Carys…all　of　it　was　like　a　fabrication。　A　dream　of　palpability；　not　a　true　place。　There　was　no　true　place　but　here。　All　he'd　lived　and　experienced；　all　he'd　taken　joy　in；　taken　pain　in；　it　was　insubstantial。　Passion　was　dust。　Optimism；　self…deception。　He　doubted　now　even　the　memory　of　senses：　the　textures；　the　temperatures。　Color；　form；　pattern。　All　diversions…games　the　mind　had　invented　to　disguise　this　unbearable　zero。　And　why　not？　Looking　too　long　into　the　abyss　would　madden　a　man。
　　Not　mad；　surely？　said　the　room；　savoring　the　thought。
　　Always；　even　in　his　blackest　moments　（lying　on　a　bunk　in　a　hothouse　cell；　listening　to　the　man　in　the　bed　below　sob　in　his　sleep）　there　had　been　something　to　look　forward　to：　a　letter；　a　dawn；　release；　some　glimpse　of　meaning。
　　But　here；　meaning　was　dead。　Future　and　past　were　dead。　Love　and　life　were　dead。　Even　death　was　dead；　because　anything　that　excited　emotion　was　unwele　here。　Only　nothing：　once　and　for　all；　nothing。
　　〃Help　me；〃　he　said；　like　a　lost　child。
　　Go　to　Hell；　the　room　respectfully　replied；　and　for　the　first　time　in　his　life；　he　knew　exactly　what　that　meant。
　　On　the　second　landing；　Carys　stopped。　She　could　hear　voices；　not；　now　she　listened　more　closely；　plural；　but　the　same　voice…Marty's　voice…speaking　and　answering　itself。　It　was　difficult　to　know　where　the　exchange　was　ing　from；　the　words　seemed　to　be　everywhere　and　nowhere。　She　glanced　into　her　room；　then　into　Breer's。　Finally；　steeling　herself　for　a　repeat　of　her　nightmare；　she　looked　into　the　bathroom。　He　was　in　none　of　them。　There　was　no　avoiding　the　unpalatable　conclusion。　He'd　gone　upstairs；　back　to　Mamoulian's　room。
　　Even　as　she　crossed　the　landing　to　the　flight　of　stairs　that　led　up　to　the　top　story；　another　sound　caught　her　attention：　somewhere　below　a　blade　was　hacking　wood。　She　knew　at　once　it　was　the　Razor…Eater。　He　was　up　and　itching　to　e　for　her。　What　a　house　this　is；　she　thought；　for　all　its　bland　facade。　It　would　take　another　Dante　to　describe　its　depths　and　heights：　dead　children；　Razor…Eaters；　addicts；　madmen　and　all。　Surely　the　stars　that　hung　at　its　zenith　squirmed　in　their　settings；　in　the　earth　beneath　it；　the　magma　curdled。
　　In　the　European's　room；　Marty　cried　out；　a　bewildered　plea。　Calling　his　name　in　answer；　and　hoping　to　God　he　heard　her；　she　scrambled　to　the　top　of　the　stairs　and　crossed；　heart　in　mouth；　toward　the　door。
　　
　　He　had　fallen　to　his　knees；　what　was　left　of　his　self…preservation　was　a　tattered　and　hopeless　thought；　gray　on　gray。　Even　the　voice　had　stopped　now。　It　was　bored　with　the　banter。　Besides；　it　had　taught　its　lesson　well。　Nothing　is　essential；　it　had　said；　and　shown　him　the　why　and　how；　or　rather　dug　up　that　part　of　him　that　had　known　all　along。　Now　he　would　just　wait　for　the　progenitor　of　this　elegant　syllogism　to　e　and　dispatch　him。　He　lay　down；　not　certain　if　he　was　alive　or　dead；　if　the　man　who　would　presently　e　would　kill　him　or　resurrect　him：　only　certain　that　to　lie　down　was　easiest；　in　this；　the　emptiest　of　all　possible　worlds。
　　
　　Carys　had　been　in　this　Nowhere　before。　She'd　tasted　its　flat；　futile　air。　But　in　the　past　few　hours　she　had　glimpsed　something　beyond　its　aridity。　There　had　been　victories　today；　not　large；　perhaps；　but　victories　nevertheless。　She　thought　of　the　way　Marty　had　e；　his　eyes　with　more　than　lust　in　them。　That　was　a　victory；　wasn't　it？　She'd　won　that　feeling　out　of　him；　earned　it　in　some　incalculable　way。　She　would　not　be　beaten　by　this　last　oppressor；　this　stale　beast　that　smothered　her　senses。　It　was　only　the　European's　residue；　after　all。　His　sloughings；　left　to　decorate　his　bower。　Scurf；　dross。　It　and　he　were　contemptible。
　　〃Marty；〃　she　said。　〃Where　are　you？〃　〃Nowhere　。　。　。〃　came　a　voice。
　　She　followed　it；　stumbling。　Desolation　pressed　in；　insisting　on　her。
　　
　　Breer　paused　for　a　moment。　A　long　way　off；　he　heard　voices。　He　couldn't　make　out　the　words；　but　the　sense　was　academic。　They　hadn't　escaped　yet；　that　was　the　important　thing。　He　had　plans　for　them　once　he　got　out：　especially　the　man。　He　would　divide　him　into　tiny　pieces；　until　not　even　his　loved　ones　could　tell　which　part　was　his　finger；　which　his　face。
　　He　began　to　hack　at　the　wood　with　renewed　fervor。　Under　his　relentless　attack　the　door　finally　began　to　splinter。
　　
　　Carys　followed　Marty's　voice　through　the　fog；　but　he　eluded　her。　Either　he　was　moving　around　or　else　the　room　was　somehow　deceiving　her；　echoing　his　voice　off　the　walls；　or　even　impersonating　him。　Then　his　voice　called　her　name；　close　by。　She　turned　in　the　murk；　utterly　without　bearings。　There　was　no　sign　of　the　door　she'd　entered　by…it　had　disappeared；　as　had　the　windows。　The　pieces　of　her　resolve　began　to　unglue。　Doubt　seeped　in；　smirking。
　　Well；　well。　And　who　are　you？　somebody　asked。　Perhaps　herself。
　　〃I　know　my　name；〃　she　breathed。　It　wasn't　going　to　unseat　her　that　way。　〃I　know　my　name。〃　She　was　a　pragmatist；　damn　it！　She　wasn't　prone　to　believing　that　the　world　was　all　in　the　mind。　That's　why　she'd　gone　to　H：　the　world　was　too　real。　Now　here　was　this　vapor　in　her　ears；　telling　her　she　was　nothing；　everything　was　nothing；　nameless　muck。
　　〃Shit；〃　she　told　it。　〃You're　shit。　His　shit！〃　It　didn't　deign　to　reply；　she　took　the　advantage　while　she　had　it。
　　〃Marty。　Can　you　hear　me？〃　There　was　no　answer。　〃It's　just　a　room；　Marty。　Can　you　hear　me？　That's　all　it　is！　Just　a　room。〃　You've　been　in　me　before；　the　voice　in　her　head　pointed　out。　Remember？
　　Oh；　yes；　she　remembered。　There　was　a　tree　in　this　fog　somewhere；　she'd　seen　it　in　the　sauna。　It　was　a　blossom…laden　freak　of　a　tree；　and　under　it　she'd　glimpsed　such　horrid　sights。　Was　that　where　Marty　had　gone？　Was　he　hanging　from　it　even　now：　new　fruit？
　　Damn　it；　no！　She　mustn't　give　in　to　such　thoughts。　It　was　just　a　room。　She　could　find　the　walls　if　she　concentrated；　even　find　the　window　maybe。
　　Careless　of　what　she　might　stumble　over；　she　turned　to　her　right；　and　walked　four　paces；　five；　until　her　outstretched　hands　hit　the　wall：　it　was　shockingly；　splendidly　solid。　Ha！　she　thought；　fuck　you　and　your　tree！　Look　what　I've　found。　She　put　her　palms　flat　on　the　wall。　Now；　left　or　right？　She　threw　up　an　imaginary　coin。　It　came　down　heads；　and　she　started　to　edge　along　to　her　left。
　　No　you　don't；　the　room　whispered。
　　〃Try　stopping　me。〃　Nowhere　to　go；　it　spat　back；　just　round　and　round。　You've　always　gone　round　and　round；　haven't　you？　Weak；　lazy；　ridiculous　woman。
　　〃You　call　me　ridiculous。　You。　A　talking　fog。〃　The　wall　she　was　moving　steadily　along　seemed　to　stretch　on　and　on。　After　half　a　dozen　paces　she　began　to　doubt　the　theory　she　was　testing。　Perhaps　this　was　a　manipulable　space　after　all。　Perhaps　she　was　moving　away　from　Marty　along　some　new　Wall　of　China。　But　she　clung　to　the　cold　surface　as　tenaciously　as　a　climber　to　a　sheer　cliff。　If　necessary　she　would　make　her　way　around　the　entire　room　until　she　found　the　door；　Marty；　or　both。
　　Pure　cunt；　the　room　said。　That's　all　you　are。　Can't　even　find　your　way　out　of　a　little　maze　like　this。　Better　just　lie　down　and　take　what's　ing　to　you；　the　way　good　cunts　should。
　　Did　she　sense　a　note　of　desperation　in　this　fresh　assault？
　　Despair？　said　the　room。　I　thrive　on　it。　Cunt。
　　She　had　reached　a　corner　of　the　room。　Now　she　turned　along　the　next　wall。
　　No　you　don't；　said　the　room。
　　Yes　I　do；　she　thought。
　　I　wouldn't　go　that　way。　Oh；　no。　Really　I　wouldn't。　The　Razor…Eater's　up　here　with　you。　Can't　you　hear　him？　He's　just　a　few　inches　ahead　of　you。　No；　don't！　Oh；　please　don't！　I　hate　the　smell　of　blood。
　　Pure　histrionics；　that　was　all　it　could　muster。　The　more　the　room　panicked；　the　more　her　spirits　rose。
　　Stop！　For　your　own　sake！　Stop！
　　Even　as　it　shouted　in　her　head　her　hands　found　the　window。　This　was　what　it　was　so　frightened　she'd　discover。
　　CUNT！　it　shrieked。　You'll　be　sorry。　I　promise　you。　Oh；　yes。
　　There　were　no　curtains　or　shutters；　the　window　had　been　entirely　boarded　up　so　that　nothing　could　spoil　this　perfect　nullity。　Her　fingers　scrabbled　for　purchase　on　one　of　the　planks：　it　was　time　she　let　some　outside　world　in。　The　wood　had　been　very　firmly　nailed　in　place；　however。　Though　she　tugged；　there　was　little　or　no　give。
　　〃Shift；　damn　you！〃　The　plank　creaked；　splinters　sprang　off　it。　〃Yes；〃　she　coaxed；　〃here　we　are。〃　Light；　a　fractured；　all…too