thunter.fearloathinglasvegas-第21部分

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Why　should　I　fuck　with　chi　Wren？'　he　says；　'They're　too　small！〃'　He　shrugged。　〃Christ；　what　could　I　say？　Even　a　goddamn　were　wolf　is　entitled　to　legal　counsel。。。I　didn't　dare　turn　the　creep　down。　He　might　have　picked　up　a　letter　opener　and　gone　after　my　pineal　gland。〃
　　〃Why　not？〃　I　said。　〃He　could　probably　get　Melvin　Belli　for　that。〃　I　nodded；　barely　able　to　talk　now。　My　body　felt　like　I'd　just　been　wired　into　a　220　volt　socket。　〃Shit；　we　should　get　us　some　of　that　stuff。〃　I　muttered　finally。　〃Just　eat　a　big　handful　and　see　what　happens。〃
　　〃Some　of　what？〃
　　〃Extract　of　pineal。〃　He　stared　at　me。　〃Sure；〃　he　said。　〃That's　a　good　idea。　One　whiff　of　that　shit　would　turn　you　into　something　out　of　a　god　damn　medical　encyclopedia！　Man；　your　head　would　swell　up　like　a　watermelon；　you'd　probably　gain　about　a　hundred　pounds　in　two　hours。。。claws；　bleeding　warts；　then　you'd　notice　about　six　huge　hairy　tits　swefling　up　on　your　back　。。　。〃　He　shook　his　head　emphatically。　〃Man；　I'll　try　just　about　anything；　but　I'd　never　in　hell　touch　a　pineal　gland。　〃Last　Christmas　somebody　gave　me　a　whole　Jimson　weed…the　root　must　have　wqighed　two　pound；　enough　for　a　year…but　I　ate　the　whole　goddamn　thiung　in　about　twenty　minutes。〃　The　slightest　hesitation　made　me　want　to　grab　him　by　the　throat　and　force　him　to　talk　faster。　〃Right！〃　I　said　eagerly。　〃Jimson　weed！　What　happened？〃
　　〃Luckily；　I　vomited　most　of　it　right　back　up；〃　he　said。　〃But　even　so；　I　went　blind　for　three　days。　Christ　I　couldn't　even　walk！　My　whole　body　turned　to　wax。　I　was　such　a　mess　that　they　had　to　haul　me　back　to　the　ranch　house　in　a　wheelbarrow。。。they　said　I　was　trying　to　talk；　but　I　sounded　like　a　raccoon。〃
　　〃Fantastic；〃　I　said。　But　I　could　barely　hear　him。　I　was　so　wired　that　my　hands　were　clawing　uncontrollably　at　the　bed　spread；　jerking　it　right　out　from　under　me　while　he　talked。　My　heels　were　dug　into　the　mattress；　with　both　knees　locked　。。。　I　could　feel　my　eyeballs　swelling；　about　to　pop　out　of　the　sockets。
　　〃Finish　the　fucking　story！〃　I　snarled。　〃What　happened？　What　about　the　glands？〃　He　backed　away；　keeping　an　eye　on　me　as　he　edged　across　the　room。　〃Maybe　you　need　another　drink；〃　he　said　nervously。　〃Jesus；　that　stuff　got　right　on　top　of　you；　didn't　it？〃　I　tried　to　smile。　〃Well。。。nothing　worse　。。　。　no；　this　is　worse　。。　。〃　It　was　hard　to　move　my　jaws；　my　tongue　felt　like　burning　magnesium。　〃No。。。nothing　to　worry　about；〃　I　hissed。　〃Maybe　if　you　could　just。。。shove　me　into　the　pool；　or　something。。
　　〃Goddamnit；〃　he　said。　〃You　took　too　much。　You're　about　to　~plode。　Jesus；　look　at　your　face！'　I　couldn't　move。　Total　paralysis　now。　Every　muscle　in　my　was　contracted。　I　couldn't　even　move　my　eyeballs；　much　turn　my　head　or　talk。
　　〃It　won't　last　long；〃　he　said。　〃The　first　rush　is　the　worst。　ride　the　bastard　out。　If　I　put　you　in　the　pool　right　now；　sink　like　a　goddamn　stone。〃　I　was　sure　of　it。　Not　even　my　lungs　seemed　to　be　functioning。　I　needed　artificial　respiration；　but　I　couldn't　open　my　mouth　to　say　so。　I　was　going　to　die。　Just　sitting　there　on　the　bed；　unable　to　move。。。well　at　least　there's　no　pain。
　　Probably；　I'll　black　out　in　a　few　seconds；　and　after　that　it　won't　matter。
　　My　attorney　had　gone　back　to　watching　television。　The　news　was　on　again。　Nixon's　face　filled　the　screen；　but　his　speech　was　hopelessly　garbled。　The　only　word　I　could　make　out　was　〃sacrifice。〃　Over　and　over　again：　〃Sacrifice。。。sacrifice　。。。　sacrificeI　could　hear　myself　breathing　heavily。　My　attorney　seemed　to　notice。　〃Just　stay　relaxed；〃　he　said　over　his　shoulder；　with　out　looking　at　me。　〃Don't　try　to　fight　it；　or　you'll　start　getting　brain　bubbles。。。strokes；　aneurisms。。。you'll　just　wither　up　and　die。〃　His　hand　snaked　out　to　change　channels。
　　
　　It　was　after　midnight　when　I　finally　was　able　to　talk　and　move　around。。。but　I　was　still　not　free　of　the　drug；　the　voltage　had　merely　been　cranked　down　from　220　to　110。　I　was　a　babbling　nervous　wreck；　flapping　around　the　room　like　a　wild　animal；　pouring　sweat　and　unable　to　concentrate　on　any　one　thought　for　more　than　two　or　three　seconds　at　a　time。
　　My　attorney　put　down　the　phone　after　making　several　calls。　〃There's　only　one　place　where　we　can　get　fresh　salmon；〃　he　said；　〃and　it's　closed　on　Sunday。〃
　　〃Of　course；〃　I　snapped。　〃These　goddamn　Jesus　freaks！　They're　multiplying　like　rats！〃　He　eyed　me　curiously。
　　〃What　about　the　Process？〃　I　said。　〃Don't　they　have　a　place　here？　Maybe　a　delicatessen　or　something？　With　a　few　tables　in　back？　They　have　a　fantastic　menu　in　London。　I　ate　there　once；　incredible　food　〃
　　〃Get　a　grip　on　yourself；〃　he　said。　〃You　don't　want　to　even　mention　the　Process　in　this　town。〃
　　〃You're　right；〃　I　said。　〃Call　Inspector　Bloor。　He　knows　about　food。　I　think　he　has　a　list。〃
　　〃Better　to　call　room　service；〃　he　said。　〃We　can　get　the　crab　looey　and　a　quart　of　Christian　Brothers　muscatel　for　about　twenty　bucks。
　　〃No！〃　I　said。　〃We　must　get　out　of　this　place。　I　need　air。　Let's　drive　up　to　Reno　and　get　a　big　tuna　fish　salad。。。hell；　it　won't　take　long。　Only　about　four　hundred　miles；　no　traffic　out　there　on　the　desert。。。〃
　　〃Forget　it；〃　he　said。　〃That's　Army　territory。　Bomb　tests；　nerve　gas…we'd　never　make　it。〃　We　wound　up　at　a　place　called　The　Big　Flip　about　halfway　downtown。　I　had　a　〃New　York　steak〃　for　1。88。　My　attorney　ordered　the　〃Coyote　Bush　Basket〃　for　2。09　。　。　。　and　after　that　we　drank　off　a　pot　of　watery　〃Golden　West〃　coffee　and　watched　four　boozed…up　cowboy　types　kick　a　faggot　half　to　death　between　the　pinball　machines。
　　〃The　action　never　stops　in　this　town；〃　said　my　attorney　as　we　shuffled　out　to　the　car。　〃A　man　with　the　right　contacts　could　probably　pick　up　all　the　fresh　adrenochrome　he　wanted；　if　he　hung　around　here　for　a　while。〃　I　agreed；　but　I　wasn't　quite　up　to　it；　right　then。　I　hadn't　slept　for　something　like　eighty　hours；　and　that　fearful　ordeal　with　the　drug　had　left　me　pletely　exhausted。。。tomorrow　we　would　have　to　get　serious。　The　drug　conference　was　scheduled　to　kick　off　at　noon。。。and　we　were　still　not　sure　how　to　handle　it。　So　we　drove　back　to　the　hotel　and　watched　a　British　horror　film　on　the　late　show。
　　
　　　6。　Getting　Down　to　Business。。。Opening　Day　at　the　Drug　Convention
　　
　　〃On　behalf　of　the　prosecuting　attorneys　of　this　county；　I　wele　you。〃　We　sat　in　the　rear　fringe　of　a　crowd　of　about　1500　in　the　main　ballroom　of　the　Dunes　Hotel。　Far　up　in　front　of　the　room；　barely　visible　from　the　rear；　the　executive　director　of　the　National　District　Attorneys'　Association…a　middle…aged；　well…groomed；　successful　GOP　businessman　type　named　Pat　rick　Healy…was　opening　their　Third　National　Institute　on　Narcotics　and　Dangerous　Drugs。　His　remarks　reached　us　by　way　of　a　big；　low…fidelity　speaker　mounted　on　a　steel　pole　in　our　corner。　Perhaps　a　dozen　others　were　spotted　around　the　room；　all　facing　the　rear　and　looming　over　the　crowd。。。so　hat　no　matter　where　you　sat　or　even　tried　to　hide；　you　were　ways　looking　down　the　muzzle　of　a　big　speaker。
　　This　produced　an　odd　effect。　People　in　each　section　of　the　Lroom　tended　to　stare　at　the　nearest　voice…box；　instead　of　watching　the　distant　figure　of　whoever　was　actually　talking　up　front；　on　the　podium。　This　1935　style　of　speaker　placement　totally　depersonalized　the　room。　There　was　something　is　and　authoritarian　about　it。
　　Whoever　set　up　that　system　was　probably　some　kind　of　Sheriff's　auxiliary　technician　on　leave　from　a　drive…in　theater　in　Muskogee；　where　the　management　couldn't　afford　individual　car　speakers　and　relied　on　ten　huge　horns；　mounted　ontelephone　poles　in　the　parking　area。　A　year　earlier　I　had　been　to　the　Sky　River　Rock　Festival　in　rural　Washington；　where　a　dozen　stone…broke　freaks　from　the　Seattle　Liberation　Front　had　assembled　a　sound　sys　tem　that　carried　every　small　note　of　an　acoustic　guitar…even　a　cough　or　the　sound　of　a　boot　dropping　on　the　stage…to　half…deaf　acid　victims　huddled　under　bushes　a　half　mile　away。
　　But　the　best　technicians　available　to　the　National　DAs'　convention　in　Vegas　apparently　couldn't　handle　it。　Their　sound　system　looked　like　something　Ulysses　S。　Grant　might　have　triggered　up　to　address　his　troops　during　the　Seige　of　Vicksburg。　The　voices　from　up　front　crackled　with　a　fuzzy；　high…pitched　urgency；　and　the　delay　was　just　enough　to　keep　the　words　disconcertingly　out　of　phase　with　the　speaker's　ges　tures。
　　〃We　must　e　to　terms　with　the　Drug　Culture　in　this　country！。。untry　。　。　。　country　。。。〃　These　echoes　drifted　back　to　the　rear　in　confused　waves。　〃The　reefer　butt　is　called　a　'roach'　because　it　resembles　a　cockroach　。。ckroach　。。。　cockroach　。。
　　〃What　the　fuck　are　these　people　talking　about？〃　my　attorney　whispered。　〃You'd　have　to　be　crazy　on　acid　to　think　a　joint　looked　like　a　goddamn　cockroach！〃　I　shrugged。　It　was　clear　that　we'd　stumbled　into　a　prehis　toric　gathering。　The　voice　of　a　〃drug　expert〃　named　Bloomquist　crackled　out　of　the　nearby　speakers：　〃。　。。　about　these　flashbacks；　the　patient　never　knows；　he　thinks　it's　all　over　and　he　gets　himself　straightened　out　for　six　months。。。and　then；　darn　it；　the　whole　trip　es　back　on　him。〃　Gosh　darn　that　fiendish　LSD！　Dr。　E。　R。　Bloomquist；　MD；　was　the　keynote　speaker；　one　of　the　big　stars　of　the　conference。　He　is　the　author　of　a　paperback　book　titled　Marijua