cb.damnationgame-第62部分

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　　〃Yes；　it's　me。〃　He　crossed　the　room　to　her；　and　she　seemed　almost　shocked　by　the　suddenness　of　his　approach。　Her　eyes　sprang　open；　recognition　flooding　into　them；　with　fear　in　attendance。　She　half…sat　up；　the　T…shirt　clinging　to　her　sweaty　torso。　The　crook　of　her　arm　was　punctured　and　bruised。
　　〃Don't　e　near　me。〃　〃What's　wrong？〃　〃Don't　e　near　me。〃　He　took　a　step　back　at　the　ferocity　of　her　order。　What　the　hell　had　they　done　to　her？
　　She　sat　up　fully；　and　put　her　head　between　her　legs；　elbows　on　her　knees。
　　〃Wait　。　。　。〃　she　said；　still　whispering。
　　Her　breath　became　very　regular。　He　waited；　aware　for　the　first　time　that　the　room　seemed　to　buzz。　Perhaps　not　just　the　room：　perhaps　this　whine…as　if　a　generator　were　humming　away　to　itself　somewhere　in　the　building…had　been　in　the　air　since　he'd　first　e　in。　If　so；　he　hadn't　noticed　it。　Now；　waiting　for　her　to　finish　whatever　ritual　she　was　engaged　upon；　it　irritated　him。　Subtle；　yet　so　pervasive　it　was　impossible；　after　a　few　seconds　of　hearing　it；　to　know　if　it　were　more　than　a　whine　in　the　inner　ear。　He　swallowed　hard：　his　sinuses　clicked。　The　sound　went　on；　a　monotone。　At　last；　Carys　looked　up。
　　〃It's　all　right；〃　she　said。　〃He　isn't　here。〃　〃I　could　have　told　you　that。　He　left　the　house　two　hours　ago。　I　watched　him　go。〃　〃He　doesn't　need　to　be　here　physically；〃　she　said；　rubbing　the　back　of　her　neck。
　　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　〃I'm　fine。〃　From　the　tone　of　her　voice　they　might　have　seen　each　other　only　the　day　before。　He　felt　foolish；　as　though　his　relief；　his　desire　to　pick　her　up　and　run；　was　inappropriate；　even　redundant。
　　〃We　have　to　go；〃　he　said。　〃They　may　e　back。〃　She　shook　her　head。　〃No　use；〃　she　told　him。
　　〃What　do　you　mean；　no　use？〃　〃If　you　knew　what　he　can　do。〃　〃Believe　me；　I've　seen。〃　He　thought　of　Bella；　poor　dead　Bella；　with　her　pups　suckling　rot。　He'd　seen　enough；　and　more。
　　〃There's　no　use　trying　to　escape；〃　she　insisted。　〃He's　got　access　to　my　head。　I'm　an　open　book　to　him。〃　This　was　an　overstatement。　He　was　less　and　less　able　to　control　her。　But　she　was　tired　of　the　fight：　almost　as　tired　as　the　European。　She　wondered　sometimes　if　he　hadn't　infected　her　with　his　world…weariness；　if　a　trace　of　him　in　her　cortex　hadn't　tainted　every　possibility　with　the　knowledge　of　its　dissolution。　She　saw　that　now；　in　Marty；　whose　face　she'd　dreamed；　whose　body　she'd　wanted。　Saw　how　he　would　age；　would　wind　down　and　die；　as　everything　wound　down　and　died。　Why　stand　up　at　all；　the　disease　in　her　system　asked；　if　it's　only　a　matter　of　time　before　you　fall　down　again？
　　〃Can't　you　block　him　out？〃　Marty　demanded。
　　〃I'm　too　weak　to　resist　him。　With　you　I'll　be　weaker　still。〃　〃Why？〃　The　remark　appalled　him。
　　〃As　soon　as　I　relax；　he'll　get　through。　Do　you　see？　The　moment　I　surrender　to　anything；　anyone；　he　can　break　in。〃　Marty　thought　about　Carys〃　face　on　the　pillow；　and　the　way；　for　an　insane　moment；　another　face　had　seemed　to　peer　down　between　her　fingers。　The　Last　European　had　been　watching；　even　then；　sharing　the　experience。　A　ménage　à　trois　for　male；　female　and　occupying　spirit。　Its　obscenity　touched　deeper　chords　of　anger　in　him：　not　the　superficial　rage　of　a　righteous　man；　but　a　profound　rejection　of　the　European　in　all　his　decadence。　Whatever　happened　as　a　consequence；　he　would　not　be　talked　into　leaving　Carys　to　Mamoulian's　devices。　If　need　be　he'd　take　her　against　her　will。　When　she　was　out　of　this　buzzing　house；　with　the　despair　peeling　the　wallpaper；　she'd　remember　how　good　life　could　be；　he'd　make　her　remember。　He　stepped　toward　her　again；　and　went　down　on　his　haunches　to　touch　her。　She　flinched。
　　〃He's　occupied…〃　he　reassured　her；　〃…he's　at　the　casino。〃　〃He'll　kill　you；〃　she　said　simply；　〃if　he　finds　you've　been　here。〃　〃He'll　kill　me　whatever　happens　now。　I've　interfered。　I've　seen　his　hidey…hole；　and　I'm　going　to　do　damage　to　it　before　we　go；　just　so　he　remembers　me。〃　〃Do　whatever　you　want　to　do。〃　She　shrugged。　〃It's　up　to　you。　But　leave　me　be。〃　〃So　Papa　was　right；〃　Marty　said　bitterly。
　　〃Papa？　What　did　he　tell　you？〃　〃That　you　wanted　to　be　with　Mamoulian　all　along。〃　〃No。〃　〃You　want　to　be　like　him！〃　〃No；　Marty；　no！〃　〃I　suppose　he　supplies　the　best…quality　dope；　eh？　And　I　can't；　can　I？〃　She　didn't　deny　this；　just　looked　sullen。　〃What　the　fuck　am　I　doing　here？〃　he　said。　〃You're　happy；　aren't　you？　Christ；　you're　happy。〃　It　was　laughable　to　think　how　he'd　misunderstood　the　politics　of　this　rescue。　She　was　content　in　this　hovel；　as　long　as　she　was　supplied。　Her　talk　of　Mamoulian's　invasions　were　window　dressing。　In　her　heart　she　could　forgive　him　every　crime　he　perpetrated　as　long　as　the　dope　kept　ing。
　　He　stood　up。　〃Where's　his　room？〃　〃No；　Marty。〃　〃I　want　to　see　where　he　sleeps。　Where　is　it？〃　She　pulled　herself　up　on　his　arm。　Her　hands　were　hot　and　damp。
　　〃Please　leave；　Marty。　This　isn't　a　game。　It's　not　all　going　to　be　forgiven　when　we　e　to　the　end；　you　know？　It　doesn't　even　stop　when　you　die。　Do　you　understand　what　I'm　saying？〃　〃Oh；　yes；〃　he　said；　〃I　understand。〃　He　put　his　palm　on　her　face。　Her　breath　smelled　sour。　His　too；　he　thought；　but　for　the　whisky。
　　〃I'm　not　an　innocent　any　longer。　I　know　what's　going　on。　Not　all　of　it；　but　enough。　I've　seen　things　I　pray　I　never　see　again；　I've　heard　stories　。　。　。　Christ；　I　understand。〃　How　could　he　impress　it　upon　her　forcibly　enough？　〃I'm　shit…scared。　I've　never　been　so　scared　in　my　life。〃　〃You've　got　reason；〃　she　said　coldly。
　　〃Don't　you　care　what　happens　to　you？〃　〃Not　much。〃　〃I'll　find　you　dope；〃　he　said。　〃If　that's　all　that's　keeping　you　here；　I'll　get　it　for　you。〃　Did　a　doubt　cross　her　face？　He　pressed　the　point　home。　〃I　saw　you　looking　for　me　at　the　funeral。〃　〃You　were　there？〃　〃Why　were　you　looking　if　you　didn't　want　me　to　e？〃　She　shrugged。　〃I　don't　know。　I　thought　maybe　you'd　gone　with　Papa。〃　〃Dead；　you　mean？〃　She　frowned　at　him。　〃No。　Gone　away。　Wherever　he's　gone。〃　It　took　a　moment　for　her　words　to　sink　in。　At　last；　he　said：　〃You　mean　he's　not　dead？〃　She　shook　her　head。　〃I　thought　you　knew。　I　thought　you'd　be　involved　with　his　getaway。〃　Of　course　the　old　bastard　wasn't　dead。　Great　men　didn't　just　lie　down　and　die　offstage。　They　bided　their　time　through　the　middle　acts…revered；　mourned　and　vilified…before　appearing　to　play　some　final　scene　or　other。　A　death　scene；　a　marriage。
　　〃Where　is　he？〃　Marty　asked。
　　〃I　don't　know；　and　neither　does　Mamoulian。　He　tried　to　get　me　to　find　him；　the　way　I　found　Toy；　but　I　can't　do　it。　I've　lost　focus。　I　even　tried　to　find　you　once。　It　was　useless。　I　could　scarcely　think　my　way　beyond　the　front　door。〃　〃But　you　found　Toy？〃　〃That　was　at　the　beginning。　Now　。　。　。　I'm　used　up。　I　tell　him　it　hurts。　Like　something's　going　to　break　inside　me。〃　Pain；　remembered　and　actual；　registered　on　her　face。
　　〃And　you　still　want　to　stay？〃　〃It'll　be　over　soon。　For　all　of　us。〃　〃e　with　me。　I've　got　friends　who　can　help　us；〃　he　appealed　to　her；　gripping　her　wrists。　〃Gentle　God；　can't　you　see　I　need　you？　Please。　I　need　you。〃　〃I'm　no　use。　I'm　weak。〃　〃Me　too。　I'm　weak　too。　We　deserve　each　other。〃　The　thought；　in　its　cynicism；　seemed　to　please　her。　She　pondered　it　a　moment　before　saying；　〃Maybe　we　do；〃　very　quietly。　Her　face　was　a　maze　of　indecision；　dope　and　doubt。　Finally　she　said：　〃I'll　dress。〃　He　hugged　her；　hard；　breathing　the　staleness　of　her　hair；　knowing　that　this　first　victory　might　be　his　only　one；　but　jubilating　nevertheless。　She　gently　broke　his　embrace　and　turned　to　the　business　of　preparing　to　go。　He　watched　her　while　she　pulled　on　her　jeans；　but　her　self…consciousness　made　him　leave　her　to　it。　He　stepped　onto　the　landing。　Out　of　her　presence；　the　hum　filled　his　ears；　louder　now；　he　thought；　than　it　had　been。　Switching　on　his　flashlight　he　climbed　the　last　flight　of　stairs　to　Mamoulian's　room。　With　each　step　he　took　the　whine　deepened；　it　sounded　in　the　boards　of　the　stairs　and　in　the　walls…a　living　presence。
　　On　the　top　landing　there　was　only　one　door；　the　room　beyond　it　apparently　spread　over　the　entire　top　floor。　Mamoulian；　the　natural　aristocrat；　had　taken　the　choicest　space　for　himself。　The　door　had　been　left　open。　The　European　feared　no　intruder。　When　Marty　pushed；…　it　swung　inward　a　few　inches；　but　his　reluctant　flashlight　beam　failed　to　penetrate　more　than　an　arm's　length　into　the　darkness　beyond。　He　stood　on　the　threshold　like　a　child　hesitating　in　front　of　a　ghost…train　ride。
　　During　his　peripheral　association　with　Mamoulian　he　had　e　to　feel　an　intense　curiosity　about　the　man。　There　was　harm　there；　no　doubt　of　that；　perhaps　terrible　capacities　for　violence。　But　just　as　Mamoulian's　face　had　appeared　beneath　Carys〃；　there　was　probably　a　face　under　that　of　the　European。　More　than　one；　perhaps。　Half　a　hundred　faces；　each　stranger　than　the　one　before；　regressing　toward　some　state　that　was　older　than　Bethlehem。　He　had　to　have　one　peep；　didn't　he？　One　look；　for　old　times〃　sake。　Girding　his　loins；　he　pushed　forward　into　the　living　darkness　of　the　room。
　　〃Marty！〃　Something　flickered　in　front　of　him；　a　bubble　burst　in　his　head　as　Carys　called　up　to　him。
　　〃Marty！　I'm　ready！〃　The　hum　in　the　room　seemed　to　have　risen　as　he　entered。　Now；　as　he　withdrew；　it　lowered　itself　to　a　moan　of　disappointment。　Don't　go；　it　seemed　to　sigh。