sk.dreamcatcher-第123部分

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　　　　Duddits　groaned；　clutched　his　middle；　and　shivered　all　over。　'Ennie；　I　sick。　Duddits　sick。'
　　　　Henry　brushed　Duddits's　hairless　brow；　not　liking　the　heat　of　the　skin。　What　came　next？　Seizures；　probably。　A　big　one　might　take　Duds　off　in　a　hurry；　given　his　weakened　condition；　and　God　knew　that　might　be　a　mercy。　The　best　thing。　Still；　it　hurt　to　think　of　it。　Henry　Devlin；　the　potential　suicide。　And　instead　of　him；　the　darkness　had　swallowed　his　friends；　one　by　one。
　　　　'You　hang　in　there；　Duds。　Almost　done　now。'　But　he　had　an　idea　the　toughest　part　might　still　be　ahead。
　　　　Duddits's　eyes　opened　again。　'Isser　Ay　…　ot　tuck。'
　　　　'What？'　Owen　asked。　'I　didn't　get　that　one。'
　　　　'He　says　Mr　Gray　got　stuck；'　Henry　said；　still　brushing　Duddit's　brow。　Wishing　there　was　hair　to　brush；　and　remembering　when　there　had　been。　Duddits's　fine　blond　hair。　His　crying　had　hurt　them；　had　chopped　into　their　heads　like　a　dull　blade；　but　how　happy　his　laughter　had　made　them　…　you　heard　Duddits　Cavell　laugh　and　for　a　little　while　you　believed　the　old　lies　again：　that　life　was　good；　that　the　lives　of　boys　and　men；　girls　and　women；　had　some　purpose。　That　there　was　light　as　well　as　darkness。
　　　　'Why　doesn't　he　just　throw　the　goddam　dog　into　the　Reservoir？'　Owen　asked。　His　voice　cracked　with　weariness。　'Why　does　he　feel　he　has　to　go　all　the　way　to　this　Shaft　12？　Is　it　just　because　the　Russian　woman　did？'
　　　　'I　don't　think　the　Reservoir　is　sure　enough　for　him；'　Henry　said。　'The　Standpipe　would　have　been　good；　but　the　aqueduct　is　even　better。　It's　an　intestine　sixty…five　miles　long。　And　Shaft　12　is　the　throat。　Duddits；　can　we　catch　him？'
　　　　Duddits　looked　at　him　from　his　exhausted　eyes；　then　shook　his　head。　Owen　pounded　his　own　thigh　in　frustration。　Duddits　wet　his　lips。　Spoke　two　words　in　a　hoarse　near…whisper。　Owen　heard　them　but　couldn't　make　them　out。
　　　　'What？　What　did　he　say？'
　　　　〃'Only　Jonesy。〃'
　　　　'What　does　that　mean？　Only　Jonesy　what？'
　　　　'Only　Jonesy　can　stop　him；　I　guess。'
　　　　The　Hummer　skidded　again　and　Henry　grabbed　hold　of　the　seat。　A　cold　hand　closed　over　his；　Duddits　was　looking　at　him　with　desperate　intensity。　He　tried　to　speak　and　began　coughing　instead；　gruesome　wet　hacking　sounds。　Some　of　the　blood　that　came　out　of　his　mouth　was　markedly　lighter；　frothy　and　almost　pink。　Henry　thought　it　was　lung…blood。　And　even　while　the　coughs　shook　him；　Duddits's　grip　on　Henry's　hand　didn't　loosen。
　　　　'Think　it　to　me；'　Henry　said。　'Can　you　think　it　to　me；　Duds？'　For　a　moment　there　was　nothing　but　Duddits's　cold　hand　closed　over　his；　Duddits's　eyes　locked　on　his。　Then　Duddits　and　the　khaki　interior　of　the　Humvee；　with　its　faded　scent　of　surreptitiously　smoked　cigarettes；　was　gone。　In　its　place　Henry　sees　a　pay　telephone　…　the　old…fashioned　kind　with　different…sized　holes　on　top；　one　for　quarters；　one　for　dimes；　one　for　nickels。　The　rumble　of　men's　voices　and　a　clack…clacking　sound；　hauntingly　familiar。　After　a　moment　he　realizes　it's　the　sound　of　checkers　on　a　checkerboard。　He's　looking　at　the　pay　phone　in　Gosselin's；　the　one　from　which　they　called　Duddits　after　the　death　of　Richie　Grenadeau。　Jonesy　made　the　actual　call；　because　he　was　the　only　one　with　a　phone　he　could　bill　it　to。　The　others　gathered　around；　all　of　them　still　with　their　jackets　on　because　it　was　so　cold　in　the　store；　even　living　in　the　big　woods　with　trees　all　around　him；　Old　Man　Gosselin　wouldn't　throw　an　extra　log　in　the　stove；　what　a　fuckin　pisser。　There　are　two　signs　over　the　phone。　One　reads　PLEASE　LIMIT　ALL　CALLS　TO　5　MINS。
　　　　The　other　one…
　　　　There　was　a　crunching　bang。　Duddits　was　thrown　against　the　back　of　Henry's　seat　and　Henry　was　thrown　into　the　dashboard。　Their　hands　parted。　Owen　had　skidded　off　the　road　and　into　the　　ditch。　Ahead　of　them；　the　Subaru's　tracks；　fading　now　under　fresh　cover；　ran　off　into　the　thickening　snow。
　　　　'Henry！　You　all　right？'
　　　　'Yeah。　Duds？　Okay？'
　　　　Duddits　nodded；　but　the　cheek　he　had　struck　was　turning　black　with　amazing　speed。　Your　Leukemia　at　Work　for　You。
　　　　Owen　dropped　the　Humvee's　transmission　into　low　range　and　began　to　creep　up　the　ditch。　The　Humvee　was　canted　at　a　severe　angle　…　maybe　thirty　degrees　…　but　it　rolled　pretty　well　once　Owen　got　it　moving。
　　　　'Fasten　your　seatbelt。　First　fasten　his；　though。'
　　　　'He　was　trying　to　tell　me　s…'
　　　　'I　don't　give　a　damn　what　he　was　trying　to　tell　you。　This　time　we　were　all　right；　next　time　we　could　roll　three…sixty。　Fasten　his　belt；　then　your　own。'
　　　　Henry　did　as　he　was　told；　thinking　about　the　other　sign　over　the　pay　phone。　What　had　it　said？　Something　about　Jonesy。　Only　Jonesy　could　stop　Mr　Gray　now；　that　was　the　Gospel　According　to　Duddits。
　　　　What　had　that　other　sign　said？


4

Owen　was　forced　to　drop　his　speed　to　twenty。　It　made　him　crazy　to　creep　like　this；　but　the　wet　snow　was　falling　furiously　now　and　visibility　was　back　to　nearly　zero。
　　　　Just　before　the　Subaru's　tracks　disappeared　entirely　they　came　to　the　car　itself；　nose…down　in　a　water…carved　ditch　running　across　the　road；　passenger　door　open；　rear　wheels　in　the　air。
　　　　Owen　stepped　on　the　emergency　brake；　drew　his　Glock；　opened　his　door。　'Stay　here；　Henry；'　he　said；　and　got　out。　He　ran　to　the　Subaru；　bent　low。
　　　　Henry　unlatched　his　seatbelt　and　turned　to　Duddits；　who　was　now　sprawled　against　the　back　seat；　gasping　for　breath；　held　in　a　sitting　position　only　by　the　seatbelt。　One　cheek　was　a　waxy　yellow；　the　other　had　been　engulfed　by　spreading　blood　under　the　skin。　His　nose　was　bleeding　again；　the　wads　of　cotton　sticking　out　of　the　nostrils　soaked　and　dripping。
　　　　'Duds；　I'm　so　sorry；'　Henry　said。　'This　is　a　fuckarow。'　　　
　　　　Duddits　nodded；　then　raised　his　arms。　He　could　only　hold　them　up　for　a　few　seconds；　but　to　Henry　his　meaning　seemed　obvious　enough。　Henry　opened　his　door　and　got　out　just　as　Owen　came　running　back；　his　Glock　now　stuffed　in　his　belt。　The　air　was　so　thick　with　snow；　the　individual　flakes　so　huge；　that　breathing　had　bee　difficult。
　　　　'I　thought　I　told　you　to　stay　where　you　were；'　Owen　said。
　　　　'I　only　want　to　get　in　the　back　with　him。'
　　　　'Why？'
　　　　Henry　spoke　clearly　enough；　although　his　voice　trembled　slightly。　'Because　he's　dying；'　he　said。　'He's　dying；　but　I　think　he　has　one　more　thing　to　tell　me　first。'


5

Owen　looked　in　the　rearview　mirror；　saw　Henry　with　his　arms　around　Duddits；　saw　they　were　both　wearing　their　seatbelts；　and　fastened　his　own。
　　　　'Hold　him　good；'　he　said。　'There's　going　to　be　a　hell　of　a　jounce。
　　　　He　reversed　a　hundred　feet；　put　the　Hummer　in　low；　and　drove　forward；　aiming　for　the　spot　between　the　abandoned　Subaru　and　the　righthand　ditch。　The　crack　in　the　road　looked　a　little　narrower　on　that　side。
　　　　There　was　indeed　a　hell　of　a　jounce。　Owen's　seatbelt　locked　and　he　saw　Duddits's　body　leap　in　Henry's　arms。　Duddits's　bald　head　bounced　against　Henry's　chest。　Then　they　were　over　the　crack　and　once　more　rolling　up　East　Street。　Owen　could　just　make　out　the　last　phantom　shapes　of　shoeprints　on　the　now…white　ribbon　of　the　road。　Mr　Gray　was　on　foot　and　they　were　still　rolling。　If　they　could　catch　up　before　the　bastard　cut　into　the　woods…
　　　　But　they　didn't。


6

With　a　final　tremendous　effort；　Duddits　raised　his　head。　Now；　Henry　saw　with　dismay　and　horror；　Duddits's　eyes　were　also　filling　with　blood。
　　　　Clack。　Clack…clack。　The　dry　chuckles　of　old　men　as　someone　acplishes　the　fabled　triple　jump。　The　phone　began　to　swim　into　his　field　of　vision　again。　And　the　signs　over　it。
　　　　'No；　Duddits；'　Henry　whispered。　'Don't　try。　Save　your　strength。'
　　　　But　for　what？　For　what　if　not　for　this？　　　　
　　　　The　sign　on　the　right：　PLEASE　LIMIT　ALL　CALLS　TO　5　MINS；　Smells　of　tobacco；　smells　of　woodsmoke；　the　old　brine　of　pickles。　His　friend's　arms　around　him。
　　　　And　the　sign　on　the　left：　CALL　JONESY　NOW。
　　　　'Duddits　。　。　。'　His　voice　floating　in　the　darkness。　Darkness；　his　old　friend。　'Duddits；　I　don't　know　how。'
　　　　Duddits's　voice　came　to　him　a　final　time；　very　tired　but　calm：　Quick；　Henry　…　I　can　only　hold　on　a　little　longer　…　you　need　to　talk　to　him。
　　　　Henry　picks　the　telephone's　receiver　out　of　its　cradle。　Thinks　absurdly　（but　isn't　the　whole　situation　absurd？）　that　he　doesn't　have　any　change　not　so　much　as　a　crying　dime。　Holds　the　phone　to　his　ear。
　　　　Roberta　Cavell's　voice　es；　impersonal　and　businesslike：　'Massachusetts　General　Hospital；　how　may　I　direct　your　call？'


7

Mr　Gray　flailed　Jonesy's　body　along　the　path　which　ran　up　the　east　side　of　the　Reservoir　from　the　point　where　East　Street　ended；　slipping；　falling；　grabbing　branches；　getting　up　again。　Jonesy's　knees　were　lacerated；　the　pants　tom　open　and　soaked　with　blood。　His　lungs　were　burning；　his　heart　beating　like　a　steam…hammer。　Yet　the　only　thing　that　concerned　him　was　Jonesy's　hip；　the　one　he'd　broken　in　the　accident。　It　was　a　hot　and　throbbing　ball；　shooting　pain　all　the　way　down　the　thigh　to　the　knee；　and　up　to　the　middle　of　his　back　along　the　road　of　his　spine。　The　weight　of　the　dog　made　things　worse。　It　was　still　asleep；　but　the　thing　inside　was　wide　awake；　held　in　place　only　by　Mr　Gray's　will。　Once；　as　he　was　rising　to　his　feet；　the　hip　locked　up　entirely　and　Mr　Gray　had　to　beat　it　repeatedly　with　Jonesy's　gloved　fist　to　make　it　let　go　again。　How