cb.damnationgame-第54章

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　　〃Shift；　damn　you！〃　The　plank　creaked；　splinters　sprang　off　it。　〃Yes；〃　she　coaxed；　〃here　we　are。〃　Light；　a　fractured；　all…too…uncertain　thread　of　it；　filtered　between　the　planks。　〃e　on；〃　she　cajoled；　pulling　harder。　The　top　joints　of　her　fingers　were　bent　back　in　her　effort　to　wrest　the　wood　from　its　place；　but　the　thread　of　light　had　now　widened　to　a　beam。　It　fell　on　her；　and　through　a　veil　of　dirty　air　she　began　to　make　out　the　shape　of　her　own　hands。
　　It　wasn't　daylight　that　spilled　between　the　planks。　Just　the　glimmer　of　streetlamps　and　car　headlights；　of　starlight　perhaps；　of　televisions　blazing　in　a　dozen　houses　along　Caliban　Street。　It　was　sufficient；　though。　With　every　inch　the　gap　increased；　more　certainty　invaded　the　room；　edge　and　substance。
　　Elsewhere　in　the　room；　Marty　too　felt　the　light。　It　irritated　him；　like　someone　throwing　open　spring…morning　curtains　on　a　dying　man。　He　crabbed　his　way　across　the　floor；　trying　to　bury　himself　in　the　fog　before　it　dispersed；　seeking　out　the　reassuring　voice　that　would　tell　him　nothing　was　essential。　But　it　had　gone。　He　was　deserted；　and　the　light　was　falling　in　broader　and　yet　broader　strokes。　He　could　see　a　woman　outlined　against　the　window。　She　had　wrenched　off　one　plank　and　thrown　it　down。　Now　she　was　pulling　at　a　second。　〃e　to　Mama；〃　she　was　saying；　and　the　light　came；　defining　her　within　ever　more　nauseating　detail。　He　wanted　none　of　it；　it　was　a　burden；　this　being　business。　He　exhaled　a　little　whistle　of　pain　and　exasperation。
　　She　turned　to　him。　〃There　you　are；〃　she　said；　crossing　to　him　and　pulling　him　to　his　feet。　〃We've　got　to　be　quick。〃　Marty　was　staring　at　the　room；　which　was　now　revealed　in　all　its　banality。　A　mattress　on　the　floor；　an　upturned　porcelain　cup；　beside　it；　a　water　jug。
　　〃Wake　up；〃　Carys　said；　shaking　him。
　　No　need　to　go；　he　thought；　nothing　to　lose　if　I　stay　here　and　the　gray　es　again。
　　〃For　Christ's　sake；　Marty！〃　she　yelled　at　him。　From　below　came　the　sound　of　wood　shrieking。　He's　ing；　ready　or　not；　she　thought。
　　〃Marty；〃　she　shouted　at　him。　〃Can　you　hear？　It's　Breer。〃　The　name　awoke　horrors。　A　cold　girl；　sitting　at　her　table　laid　with　her　own　meat。　His　terrible；　unspeakable　joke。　The　image　slapped　the　fog　from　Marty's　head。　The　thing　that　had　performed　that　horror　was　downstairs；　he　remembered　now；　all　too　well。　He　looked　at　Carys　with　clear；　if　tearful；　eyes。
　　〃What　happened？〃　〃No　time；〃　she　said。
　　He　limped　after　her　toward　the　door。　She　was　still　carrying　one　of　the　planks　she'd　pulled　from　the　window；　its　nails　still　in　place。　The　noise　from　below　mounted　still；　the　din　of　unhinged　door　and　mind。
　　The　pain　in　Marty's　torn　leg；　which　the　room　had　so　skillfully　dulled；　now　raged　up　again。　He　needed　support　from　Carys　to　make　his　way　down　the　first　flight　of　stairs。　They　made　the　descent　together；　his　hand；　bloody　from　touching　the　wound；　marking　their　passage　on　the　wall。
　　Halfway　down　the　second　flight　of　stairs；　the　cacophony　from　the　cellar　stopped。
　　They　stood　still；　waiting　for　Breer's　next　move。　From　below　there　came　a　thin　creak　as　the　Razor…Eater　pushed　the　cellar　door　wide。　Other　than　the　dim　light　from　the　kitchen；　which　had　several　corners　to　round　before　it　reached　the　hallway；　there　was　nothing　to　illuminate　the　scene。　Hunter　and　prey；　both　camouflaged　by　darkness；　hung　on　to　this　tenuous　moment；　neither　knowing　if　the　next　would　bring　catastrophe。　Carys　left　Marty　behind　and　slipped　down　the　remaining　steps　to　the　bottom　of　the　stairs。　Her　feet　were　all　but　silent　on　the　carpetless　stairs；　but　after　the　sense　deprivation　of　Mamoulian's　room　Marty　heard　her　every　heartbeat。
　　Nothing　moved　in　the　hallway；　she　beckoned　Marty　down　after　her。　The　passageway　was　still；　and　apparently　empty。　Breer　was　near；　she　knew：　but　where？　He　was　large　and　cumbersome：　hiding　places　would　be　difficult　to　find。　Perhaps；　she　prayed；　he　hadn't　escaped　after　all；　merely　given　up；　exhausted。　She　stepped　forward。
　　Without　warning；　the　Razor…Eater　emerged　from　the　door　of　the　front　room；　roaring。　The　carving　knife　descended　in　a　swooping　stroke。　She　succeeded　in　sidestepping　the　blow；　but　in　doing　so　all　but　lost　her　balance。　It　was　Marty's　hand　that　caught　her　arm；　and　dragged　her　out　of　the　way　of　Breer's　second　slash。　The　force　of　the　Razor…Eater's　charge　propelled　him　past　her。　He　slammed　against　the　front　door；　the　glass　rattled。
　　〃Out！〃　Marty　said；　seeing　the　way　clear　along　the　passage。　But　this　time　Carys　had　no　intention　of　running。　There　was　a　time　for　running　and　a　time　for　confrontation；　she　might　never　have　another　opportunity　to　thank　Breer　for　his　many　humiliations。　She　shrugged　Marty's　hold　off　and　took　the　wooden　club　she　still　carried　in　a　two…handed　grasp。
　　The　Razor…Eater　had　righted　himself；　the　knife　still　in　his　hand；　and　now　he　took　a　raging　step　toward　her。　She　preempted　his　attack；　however。　She　raised　the　plank　and　ran　at　him；　delivering　a　blow　to　the　side　of　his　head。　His　neck；　already　fractured　by　his　fall；　snapped。　The　nails　in　the　plank　pierced　his　skull；　and　she　was　obliged　to　relinquish　her　weapon；　leaving　it　fixed　like　a　fifth　limb　to　the　side　of　Breer's　head。　He　fell　to　his　knees。　His　twitching　hand　dropped　the　knife　while　the　other　scrabbled　for　the　plank　and　wrenched　it　from　his　head。　She　was　glad　of　the　darkness；　the　slosh　of　blood　and　the　tattoo　his　feet　beat　on　the　bare　boards　were　more　than　enough　to　appall。　He　knelt　upright　for　several　moments；　then　pitched　forward；　pressing　the　cutlery　in　his　belly　all　the　way　home。
　　She　was　satisfied。　This　time；　when　Marty　pulled　at　her；　she　went　with　him。
　　As　they　made　their　way　along　the　corridor　there　was　a　sharp　rapping　on　the　wall。　They　stopped。　What　now？　More　possessing　spirits？
　　〃What　is　it？〃　he　asked。
　　The　rapping　ceased；　then　began　again；　this　time　acpanied　by　a　voice。
　　〃Be　quiet；　will　you？　There's　people　trying　to　sleep　in　here。〃　〃Next　door；〃　she　said。　The　thought　of　their　plaints　struck　her　as　funny；　and　by　the　time　they'd　made　their　way　out　of　the　house；　past　the　wreckage　of　the　cellar　door　and　Breer's　cooling　camomile；　they　were　both　laughing。
　　They　slipped　away　down　the　darkened　alleyway　behind　the　house　to　the　car；　where　they　sat　for　several　minutes；　tears　and　laughter　ing　on　them　in　alternating　waves；　two　mad　people；　the　Calibanese　might　have　guessed；　or　else　adulterers；　amused　by　a　night　of　adventures。
　　
　　
　　XI　Kingdom　e
　　
　　56
　　Chad　Schuckman　and　Tom　Loomis　had　been　bringing　the　message　of　the　Church　of　the　Resurrected　Saints　to　the　populace　of　London　for　three　weeks　now；　and　they　were　sick　to　the　back　teeth　of　it。　〃Some　way　to　spend　a　vacation；〃　Tom　grumbled　daily　as　they　planned　their　day's　route。　Memphis　seemed　a　long　way　off；　and　they　were　both　homesick　for　it。　Besides；　the　whole　campaign　was　proving　a　failure。　The　sinners　they　encountered　on　the　doorsteps　of　this　godforsaken　city　were　as　indifferent　to　the　Reverend's　message　of　imminent　Apocalypse　as　they　were　to　his　promise　of　Deliverance。
　　Despite　the　weather　（or　maybe　because　of　it）；　sin　wasn't　hot　news　in　England　these　days。　Chad　was　contemptuous：　〃They　don't　know　what　they've　got　ing；〃　he　kept　telling　Tom；　who　knew　all　the　descriptions　of　the　Deluge　by　heart　but　also　knew　they　sounded　better　from　the　lips　of　a　golden　boy　like　Chad　than　from　himself。　He　even　suspected　that　those　few　people　who　did　stop　to　listen　did　so　more　because　Chad　had　the　looks　of　a　corn…fed　angel　than　because　they　wanted　to　hear　the　Reverend's　inspired　word。　Most　simply　slammed　their　doors。
　　But　Chad　was　adamant。　〃There's　sin　here；〃　he　assured　Tom；　〃and　where　there's　sin　there's　guilt。　And　where　there's　guilt　there's　money　for　the　Lord's　Work。〃　It　was　a　simple　equation：　and　if　Tom　had　some　doubts　about　its　ethics　he　kept　them　to　himself。　Better　his　silence　than　Chad's　disapprobation；　all　they　had　was　each　other　in　this　foreign　city；　and　Tom　wasn't　about　to　lose　his　guiding　light。
　　Sometimes；　though；　it　was　difficult　to　keep　your　faith　intact。　Especially　on　blistering　days　like　this；　when　your　polyester　suit　was　itching　at　the　back　of　your　neck　and　the　Lord；　if　He　was　in　His　Heaven；　was　keeping　well　out　of　sight。　Not　a　hint　of　a　breeze　to　cool　your　face；　not　a　rain　cloud　in　sight。
　　〃Isn't　this　from　something？〃　Tom　asked　Chad。
　　〃What's　that？〃　Chad　was　counting　the　pamphlets　they　still　had　left　to　distribute　today。
　　〃The　name　of　the　street；〃　Tom　said。　〃Caliban。　It's　from　something。〃　〃That　so？〃　Chad　had　finished　counting。　〃We　only　got　rid　of　five　pamphlets。〃　He　handed　the　armful　of　literature　to　Tom　and　fished　for　a　b　in　the　inside　pocket　of　his　jacket。　Despite　the　heat；　he　looked　cool　and　unruffled。　By　parison；　Tom　felt　shabby；　overheated　and；　he　feared；　easily　tempted　from　the　path　of　righteousness。　By　what；　he　wasn't　certain；　but　he　was　open　to　suggestions。　Chad　put　the　b　through　his　hair；　restoring　in　one　elegant　sweep　the　perfect　sheen　of　his　halo。　It　was　important；　the　Reverend　taught；　to　look　your　best。　〃You're　agents　of　the　Lord；〃　he'd　said。　〃He　wants　you　to　be　clean　and　tidy；　to　shine　through　every　nook　and　cranny。〃　〃Here；〃　Chad　said；　exchanging　the　b　for　the　pamphlets。　〃Your　hair's　a　mess。〃　Tom　took　the　b；　its　teeth　had　gold　in　them。　He　made　a　desultory　attempt　to　control　his　coxb；　while　Chad　looked　on。　Tom's　hair　wouldn't　lie　flat　the　way　Chad's　did。　The　Lord　probably　tutted　at　that：　He　wouldn't　like　it　at　all。　But　then　what　did　the　Lord　like？　He　disapproved　of　smoking；　drinking；　fornication；　tea；　coffee；　Pepsi；　roller　coasters；　masturbation。　And　for　those　weak　creatures　who　indulged　in　any　or；　God　help　them；　all　of　the　above　the　Deluge　hovered。
　　Tom　just　prayed　that　the　waters；　when　they　came；　would　be　cool。
　　The　guy　in　the　dark　suit　who　answered　the　door　of　Number　Eighty…two　Caliban　Street　reminded　both　Tom　and　Chad　of　the　Reverend。　Not　physically；　of　course。　Bliss　was　a　tanned；　glutinous　man；　while　this　dude　was　thin　and　sallow。　But　there　was　the　same　implicit　authority　about　them　both；　the　same　seriousness　of　purpose。　He　was　drawn　to　the　pamphlets　too；　the　first　real　interest　they'd　had　all　morning。　He　even　quoted　Deuteronomy　at　them…a　text　they　were　unfamiliar　with…and　then；　offering　them　both　a　drink；　invited　them　into　the　house。
　　It　was　like　home　from　home。　The　bare　walls　and　floors；　the　smell　of　disinfectant　and　incense；　as　though　something　had　just　been　cleaned　up。　Truth　to　tell；　Tom　thought　this　guy　had　taken　the　asceticism　to　extremes。　The　back　room　he　led　them　into　boasted　two　chairs；　no　more。
　　〃My　name　is　Mamoulian。〃　〃How　do　you　do？　I'm　Chad　Schuckman；　this　is　Thomas　Loomis。〃　〃Both　saints；　eh？〃　The　young　men　looked　mystified。　〃Your　names。　Both　names　of　saints。〃　〃Saint　Chad？〃　the　blond　one　ventured。
　　〃Oh；　certainly。　He　was　an　English　bishop；　we're　speaking　of　the　seventh　century　now。　Thomas；　of　course；　the　great　Doubter。〃　He　left　them　awhile　to　fetch　water。　Tom　squirmed　in　his　chair。
　　〃What's　your　problem？〃　Chad　snapped。　〃He's　the　first　sniff　of　a　convert　we've　had　over　here。〃　〃He's　weird。〃　〃You　think　the　Lord　cares　if　he's　weird？〃　Chad　said。　It　was　a　good　question；　and　one　for　which　Tom　was　shaping　a　reply　when　their　host　came　back　in。
　　〃Your　water。〃　〃Do　you　live　alone？〃