cb.damnationgame-第66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！


　　〃What　happened？　Hit…and…run？〃　somebody　asked　him。
　　〃He　just　fell　down；〃　a　witness　replied。　〃I　saw　him。　Fell　down　in　the　middle　of　the　pavement。　I　was　just　ing　out　of　the　newsagents　when　I…〃　〃Marty。〃
　　〃…and　there　he　was…〃　〃Marty。　〃　His　name　was　sounding　in　his　head；　clear　as　a　spring…morning　bell。　There　was　a　renewed　trickle　of　blood　from　his　nose；　but　no　pain　this　time。　He　raised　his　hand　to　his　face　to　stem　the　flow　but　a　hand　was　already　there；　stanching　and　wiping。
　　〃You'll　be　all　right；〃　a　man's　voice　said。　Somehow　Marty　felt　this　to　be　indisputably　true；　though　it　was　nothing　to　do　with　this　man's　ministrations。　The　pain　had　gone；　and　the　fear　had　gone　with　it。　It　was　Carys　speaking　in　his　head。　It　had　been　all　along。　Now　some　wall　in　him　had　been　breached…forcibly　perhaps；　and　painfully；　but　the　worst　was　over…and　she　was　thinking　his　name　in　her　head　and　he　was　catching　her　thought　like　a　lobbed　tennis　ball。　His　previous　doubts　seemed　naive。　It　was　a　simple　act；　this　thought　catching；　once　you　had　the　knack　of　it。
　　
　　She　felt　him　wake　to　her。
　　For　several　seconds　she　lay　on　her　curtain　bed　while　the　jet　winked　across　the　window；　not　quite　daring　to　believe　what　her　instincts　were　telling　her…that　he　was　hearing　her；　that　he　was　alive。
　　Marty？　she　thought。　This　time；　instead　of　the　word　getting　lost　in　the　dark　between　his　mind　and　hers；　it　went　unerringly　home；　weled　into　his　cortex。　He　didn't　have　the　skill　to　frame　an　answer；　but　that　was　academic　at　this　point。　As　long　as　he　could　hear　and　understand；　he　could　e。
　　The　hotel；　she　thought。　Do　you　understand；　Marty？　I'm　with　the　European　at　a　hotel。　She　tried　to　remember　the　name　she'd　glimpsed　over　the　door。　Orpheus；　that　was　it。　She　had　no　address；　but　she　did　her　best　to　picture　the　building　for　him；　in　the　hope　that　he　could　make　sense　of　her　impressionist　directions。
　　
　　He　sat　up　in　the　ambulance。
　　〃Don't　worry。　The　car'll　be　taken　care　of；〃　the　attendant　said；　pressing　a　hand　on　his　shoulder　to　get　him　to　lie　back　down。　They'd　wrapped　a　scarlet　blanket　across　him。　Red　so　the　blood　doesn't　show；　he　registered　as　he　threw　it　off。
　　〃You　can't　get　up；〃　the　attendant　told　him。　〃You're　in　bad　shape。〃　〃I'm　fine；〃　Marty　insisted；　pushing　the　solicitous　hand　away。　〃You've　been　wonderful。　But　I've　got　a　prior　engagement。〃　The　driver　was　closing　the　double　doors　at　the　back　of　the　ambulance。　Through　the　narrowing　gap　Marty　could　see　a　ring　of　professional　bystanders　straining　to　catch　a　final　look　at　the　spectacle。　He　made　a　dive　for　the　doors。
　　The　spectators　were　disgruntled　to　see　Lazarus　risen；　and　worse；　to　see　him　smiling　like　a　loon　as　he　emerged；　apologizing；　from　the　back　of　the　vehicle。　Didn't　the　man　have　any　sense　of　occasion？
　　〃I'm　fine；〃　he　told　the　driver　as　he　backed　off　through　the　crowd。　〃Must　have　been　something　I　ate。〃　The　driver　stared　at　him；　unprehending。
　　〃You're　bloody；〃　he　managed　to　mutter。
　　〃Never　felt　better；〃　Marty　replied；　and　in　a　way；　despite　the　exhaustion　in　his　bones；　it　was　true。　She　was　here；　in　his　head；　and　there　was　still　time　to　make　things　right；　if　he　hurried。
　　The　Citroen　was　a　few　yards　down　the　road；　splashes　of　his　blood　painted　the　pavement　beside　it。　The　keys　were　still　in　the　ignition。
　　〃Wait　for　me；　babe；　〃　he　said；　and　started　back　toward　the　Pandemonium　Hotel。
　　
　　69
　　It　was　not　the　first　time　Sharon　had　been　locked　out　of　her　house　while　her　mother　entertained　a　man　the　young　girl　had　never　seen　before；　and　would；　on　past　form；　never　see　again；　but　tonight　the　expulsion　was　particularly　unwele。　She　felt　a　summer　cold　ing　on；　and　she　wanted　to　be　in　the　house　in　front　of　the　television　instead　of　out　in　the　street　after　dark　vainly　trying　to　devise　new　skipping　games　for　herself。　She　wandered　down　the　street；　beginning　a　solitary　game　of　hopscotch；　then　abandoning　it　on　the　fifth　square。　She　was　just　outside　Number　Eighty…two。　It　was　a　house　her　mother　had　warned　her　to　keep　clear　of。　A　family　of　Asians　lived　on　the　ground　floor…sleeping　twelve　to　a　bed；　or　so　Mrs。　Lennox　had　told　Sharon's　mother…in　conditions　of　criminal　squalor。　But　despite　its　reputation；　Number　Eighty…two　had　been　a　disappointment　all　summer：　until　today。　Today　Sharon　had　seen　peculiar　ings　and　goings　at　the　house。　Some　people　had　arrived　in　a　big　car　and　taken　a　sick…looking　woman　away　with　them。　And　now；　as　she　idled　at　the　hopscotch　game；　there　was　somebody　at　one　of　the　middle　floor　windows；　a　big；　shadowy　figure；　and　he　was　beckoning　to　her。
　　Sharon　was　ten。　It　would　be　a　year　before　her　first　period；　and　though　she　had　an　inkling　of　the　matter　between　men　and　women　from　her　half…sister；　she　thought　it　a　ridiculous　palaver。　The　boys　who　played　football　in　the　street　were　foulmouthed；　grubby　creatures；　she　could　scarcely　imagine　ever　pining　for　their　affections。
　　But　the　alluring　figure　at　the　window　was　a　male；　and　it　found　something　in　Sharon；　it　turned　over　a　rock。　Beneath　were　the　first　stirrings　of　lives　that　weren't　quite　ready　for　the　sun。　They　wriggled；　they　made　her　thin　legs　itch。　It　was　to　stop　that　itch　that　she　disobeyed　every　prohibition　on　Number　Eighty…two　and　slipped　into　the　house　when　next　the　front　door　was　opened；　and　up　to　where　she　knew　the　stranger　to　be。
　　〃Hello？〃　she　said；　standing　on　the　landing　outside　the　room。
　　〃You　can　e　in；〃　the　man　said。
　　Sharon　had　never　smelled　death　before；　but　she　knew　it　instinctively：　introductions　were　superfluous。　She　stood　in　the　doorway　and　peered　at　the　man。　She　could　still　run　if　she　wanted　to；　she　knew　that　too。　She　was　made　yet　safer　by　the　fact　that　he　was　tied　to　the　bed。　This　she　could　see；　though　the　room　was　dark。　Her　inquisitive　mind　found　nothing　odd　in　this；　adults　played　games；　the　way　children　did。
　　〃Put　on　the　light；〃　the　man　suggested。　She　reached　up　for　the　switch　beside　the　door　and　turned　it　on。　The　weak　bulb　lit　the　prisoner　strangely；　by　it　he　looked　sicker　than　anybody　Sharon　had　ever　set　eyes　on。　He　had　obviously　dragged　the　bed　across　the　room　to　the　window；　and　in　so　doing　the　ropes　that　tied　him　had　bitten　into　his　gray　skin；　so　that　shiny　brown　fluids…not　quite　like　blood…covered　his　hands　and　trousers；　and　spattered　the　floor　at　his　feet。　Black　blotches　made　his　face；　which　was　also　shiny；　piebald。
　　〃Hello；〃　he　said。　His　voice　was　warped；　as　though　he　was　speaking　out　of　a　cheap　radio。　Its　weirdness　amused　her。
　　〃Hello；〃　she　said　back。
　　He　gave　her　a　lopsided　grin；　and　the　bulb　caught　the　wetness　of　his　eyes；　which　were　so　deep　in　his　head　she　could　scarcely　make　them　out。　But　when　they　moved；　as　they　did　now；　the　skin　around　them　fluttered。
　　〃I'm　sorry　to　call　you　away　from　your　games；〃　he　said。
　　She　dawdled　in　the　door；　not　quite　certain　whether　to　go　or　stay。　〃I　shouldn't　really　be　here；〃　she　teased。
　　〃Oh　。　。　。〃　he　said；　rolling　his　eyes　up　until　all　the　whites　showed。　〃Please　don't　go。〃　She　thought　he　looked　ical　with　his　jacket　all　stained　and　his　eyes　rolling。　〃If　Marilyn　found　out　I'd　been　here…〃　〃Your　sister；　is　that？〃　〃My　mother。　She'd　hit　me。〃　The　man　looked　doleful。　〃She　shouldn't　do　that；〃　he　said。
　　〃Well；　she　does。〃　〃That's　shameful；〃　he　replied　mournfully。
　　〃Oh；　she　won't　find　out；〃　Sharon　reassured　him。　The　man　was　more　distressed　by　her　talk　of　a　beating　than　she'd　intended。　〃Nobody　knows　I'm　here。〃　〃Good；〃　he　said。　〃I　wouldn't　want　any　harm　to　e　to　you　on　my　account。〃　〃Why　are　you　all　tied　up？〃　she　inquired。　〃Is　it　a　game？〃　〃Yes。　That's　all　it　is。　Tell　me；　what's　your　name？〃　〃Sharon。〃　〃You're　quite　right；　Sharon；　it's　a　game。　Only　I　don't　want　to　play　anymore。　It's　started　to　hurt　me。　You　can　see。〃　He　raised　his　hands　as　far　as　he　could；　to　show　how　the　bindings　bit。　A　diet　of　flies；　disrupted　from　their　laying；　buzzed　about　his　head。
　　〃Are　you　any　good　at　untying　knots？〃　he　asked　her。
　　〃Not　very。〃　〃Could　you　try。　For　me？〃　〃Suppose　so；〃　she　said。
　　〃Only　I'm　feeling　very　tired。　e　in；　Sharon。　Close　the　door。〃　She　did　as　she　was　told。　There　was　no　threat　here。　Just　a　mystery　（or　two　maybe：　death　and　men）　and　she　wanted　to　know　more。　Besides；　the　man　was　ill：　he　could　do　her　no　harm　in　his　present　condition。　The　closer　she　got　to　him　the　worse　he　looked。　His　skin　was　blistering；　and　there　were　beads　of　something　like　black　oil　dotting　his　face。　Beneath　the　smell　of　his　perfume；　which　was　strong；　there　was　something　bitter。　She　didn't　want　to　touch　him；　sorry　as　she　felt　for　him。
　　〃Please　。　。　。〃　he　said；　proffering　his　bound　hands。　The　flies　roved　around；　irritated。　There　were　lots　of　them；　and　they　were　all　interested　in　him；　in　his　eyes；　in　his　ears。
　　〃I　should　get　a　doctor；〃　she　said。　〃You're　not　well。〃　〃No　time　for　that；〃　he　insisted。　〃Just　untie　me；　then　I'll　find　a　doctor　myself；　and　nobody　need　know　you've　been　up　here。〃　She　nodded；　seeing　the　logic　of　this；　and　approached　him　through　the　cloud　of　flies　to　untie　the　restraints。　Her　fingers　were　not　strong；　her　nails　bitten　to　the　quick；　but　she　worked　at　the　knots　with　determination；　a　charming　frown　flawing　the　perfect　plane　of　her　brow　as　she　labored。　Her　efforts　were　hampered　by　the　flow　of　yolky　fluid　from　his　broken　flesh；　which　gummed　everything　up。　Once　in　a　while　she'd　turn　her　hazel　eyes　up　to　him；　he　wondered　whether　she　could　see　degeneration　occurring　in　front　of　her。　If　she　could；　she　was　too　engrossed　in　the　challenge　of　the　knots　to　leave；　either　that；　or　she　was　willingly　unleashing　him；　aware　of　the　power　she　wielded　in　so　doing。
　　Only　once　did　she　show　any　sign　of　anxiety；　when　something　in　his　chest　seemed　to　fail；　a　piece　of　internal　machinery　slipping　into　a　lake　around　his　bowels。　He　coughed　and　exhaled　a　breath　that　made　sewerage　smell　like　primroses。　She　turned　her　head　away　and　pulled　a　face。　He　apologized　politely　and　she　asked　him　not　to　do　it　again；　then　went　back　to　the　problem　at　hand。　He　waited　patiently；　knowing　that　any　attempt　to　hurry　her　along　would　only　spoil　her　concentration。　But　in　time　she　got　the　measure　of　the　riddle；　and　the　binding　began　to　loosen。　His　flesh；　which　was　now　the　consistency　of　softened　soap；　skidded　off　the　bone　of　his　wrists　as　he　pulled　his　hands　free。
　　〃Thank　you；〃　he　said。　〃Thank　you。　You've　been　very　kind。〃　He　bent　to　untie　the　ropes　at　his　feet；　his　breath；　or　what　passed　for　it；　a　gritty　rattle　in　his　chest。
　　〃I'll　go　now；〃　she　said。
　　〃Not　yet；　Sharon；〃　he　replied；　speaking　was　drudgery　now。　〃Please　don't　go　yet。〃　〃But　I　have　to　be　home。〃　The　Razor…Eater　looked　at　her　creamy　face：　she　looked　so　fragile；　standing　under　the　light。　She　had　withdrawn　from　his　immediate　vicinity　once　the　knots　were　untied；　as　though　the　initial　trepidation　had　begun　again。　He　tried　to　smile；　to　reassure　her　that　all　was　well；　but　his　face　wouldn't　obey。　The　fat　and　muscle　just　drooped　on　his　skull；　his　lips　felt　inept。　Words；　he　knew；　were　close　to　failing　him。　It　would　have　to　be　signs　from　now　on。　He　was　moving　into　a　purer　world…one　of　symbols；　of　ritual…a　world　where　Razor…Eaters　truly　belonged。
　　His　feet　were　free。　In　a　matter　of　moments　he　could　be　across　the　room　to　where　she　stood。　Even　…if　she　turned　and　ran　he　could　catch　her。　No　one　to　see　or　hear；　and　even　if　there　were　what　c