sk.dreamcatcher-第132部分

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behind　him　jerked　back　and　forth　behind　the　wheel。　Henry　was　glad　of　the　thickly　falling　snow；　equally　glad　of　the　blood　that　sprayed　up；　striking　the　windshield　of　the　other　Humvee；　partially　obscuring　the　view。
　　　　He　could　see　all　too　well　as　it　was。
　　　　At　last　the　figure　behind　the　wheel　stopped　moving　and　fell　sideways。　A　bulky　shadow　rose　over　it；　seeming　to　hulk　in　triumph。　Henry　knew　what　it　was；　he'd　seen　one　on　Jonesy's　bed；　back　at　Hole　in　the　Wall。　One　thing　he　could　see　was　that　there　was　a　broken　window　in　the　Humvee　which　had　been　chasing　them。　He　doubted　if　the　thing　had　much　in　the　way　of　intelligence；　but　how　much　would　it　need　to　register　fresh　air？　　
　　　　They　don't　like　the　cold。　It　kills　them。
　　　　Yes；　indeed　it　did。　But　Henry　had　no　intention　of　leaving　it　at　that；　and　not　just　because　the　Reservoir　was　so　close　he　could　hear　the　water　lapping　on　the　rocks。　Something　had　run　up　an　extremely　high　debt；　and　only　he　was　left　to　present　the　bill。　Payback's　a　bitch；　as　Jonesy　had　so　often　observed；　and　payback　time　had　arrived。
　　　　He　leaned　over　the　seat。　No　weapons　there。　He　leaned　over　further　and　thumbed　open　the　glove　partment。　Nothing　in　there　but　a　litter　of　invoices；　gasoline　receipts；　and　a　tattered　paperback　titled　How　to　Be　Your　Own　Best　Friend。
　　　　Henry　opened　the　door；　got　out　into　the　snow　。　。　。　and　his　feet　immediately　flew　out　from　under　him。　He　went　on　his　butt　with　a　thump　and　scraped　his　back　on　the　Hummer's　high　splashboard。　Fuck　me　Freddy。　He　got　up；　slipped　again；　grabbed　the　top　of　the　open　door；　and　managed　to　stay　afoot　this　time。　He　shuffled　his　feet　around　to　the　back　of　the　vehicle　he'd　e　in；　never　taking　his　eyes　from　its　twin；　parked　behind。　He　could　still　see　the　thing　inside；　thrashing　and　shuffling；　dining　on　the　driver。
　　　　'Stay　where　you　are；　beautiful；'　Henry　said；　and　began　to　laugh。　The　laughter　sounded　crazy　as　bell；　but　that　didn't　stop　him。　'Lay　a　few　eggs。　I　am　the　eggman；　after　all。　Your　friendly　neighborhood　eggman。　Or　how　about　a　copy　of　How　to　Be　Your　Own　Best　Friend？　I　got　one。'
　　　　Laughing　so　hard　now　he　could　barely　speak。　Sliding　in　the　wet　and　treacherous　snow　like　a　kid　let　out　of　school　and　on　his　way　to　the　nearest　sledding　hill。　Holding　onto　the　flank　of　the　Hummer　as　best　he　could；　except　there　was　really　nothing　to　hold　onto　once　you　were　south　of　the　doors。　Watching　the　thing　shift　and　move　。　。　。　and　then　he　couldn't　see　it　anymore。　Oh…oh。　Where　the　hell　had　it　gotten　to？　In　one　of　Jonesy's　dopey　movies；　this　is　where　the　scary　music　would　start；　Henry　thought。　Attack　of　the　Killer　Shit…　Weasels。　That　got　him　laughing　again。
　　　　He　was　around　to　the　back　of　the　vehicle　now。　There　was　a　button　you　could　push　to　unlatch　the　rear　window　。　。　。　unless；　of　course；　it　was　locked。　Probably　wasn't；　though。　Hadn't　Owen　gotten　into　the　back　this　way？　Henry　couldn't　remember。　Couldn't　for　the　life　of　him。　He　was　clearly　not　being　his　own　best　friend。
　　　　Still　cackling；　fresh　tears　gushing　out　of　his　eyes；　he　thumbed　the　button　and　the　back　window　popped　open。　Henry　yanked　it　wider　and　looked　in。　Guns；　thank　God。　Army　carbines　like　the　kind　that　Owen　had　taken　on　his　last　patrol。　Henry　grabbed　one　and　examined　it。　Safety；　check。　Fire…selection　switch；　check。　Clip　marked　U。S。　ARMY　5。56　CAL　120　RNDS；　check。
　　　　'So　simple　even　a　byrum　can　do　it；'　Henry　said；　and　laughed　some　more。　He　bent　over；　holding　his　stomach　and　slipping　around　in　the　slop；　trying　not　to　fall　again。　His　legs　ached；　his　back　ached；　his　heart　ached　most　of　all　。　。　。　and　still　he　laughed。　He　was　the　eggman；　he　was　the　eggman；　he　was　the　laughing　hyena。
　　　　He　walked　around　to　the　driver's　side　of　Kurtz's　Humvee；　gun　raised　（safety　in　what　he　devoutly　hoped　was　the　OFF　position）；　spooky　music　playing　in　his　head；　but　still　laughing。　There　was　the　gasoline　hatch；　no　mistaking　that。　But　where　was　Gamera；　The　Terror　from　Beyond　Space？
　　　　As　if　it　had　heard　his　thought　…　and；　Henry　realized；　that　was　perfectly　likely　…　the　weasel　smashed　headfirst　against　the　rear　window。　The　one　that　was；　thankfully；　unbroken。　Its　head　was　smeared　with　blood；　hair；　and　bits　of　flesh。　Its　dreadful　sea…grape　eyes　stared　into　Henry's。　Did　it　know　it　had　a　way　out；　an　escape　hatch？　Perhaps。　And　perhaps　it　understood　that　using　it　would　likely　mean　a　quick　death。
　　　　It　bared　its　teeth。
　　　　Henry　Devlin；　who　had　once　won　the　American　Psychiatric　Association's　passionate　Caring　Award　for　a　New　York　Times　op…ed　piece　called　'The　End　of　Hate'；　bared　his　own　in　return。　It　felt　good。　Then　he　gave　it　the　finger。　For　Beaver。　And　for　Pete。　That　felt　good；　too。
　　　　When　he　raised　the　carbine；　the　weasel　…　stupid；　perhaps；　but　not　utterly　stupid　…　dove　out　of　sight。　That　was　cool；　Henry　had　never　had　the　slightest　intention　of　trying　to　shoot　it　through　the　window。　He　did　like　the　idea　of　it　down　there　on　the　floor；　though。　Close　to　the　gas　as　you　want　to　get；　darling；　he　thought。　He　thumbed　the　carbine's　selector…switch　to　full　auto　and　fired　a　long　burst　into　the　gas　tank。
　　　　The　sound　of　the　gun　was　deafening。　A　huge　ragged　hole　appeared　where　the　gasoline　port　had　been；　but　for　a　moment　there　was　nothing　else。　So　much　for　the　Hollywood　version　of　how　shit　like　this　works；　Henry　thought；　and　then　heard　a　hoarse　whisper　of　sound；　rising　to　a　throaty　hiss。　He　took　two　steps　backward　and　his　feet　shot　out　from　under　him　again。　This　time　falling　quite　likely　saved　his　eyesight　and　perhaps　his　life。　The　back　of　Kurtz's　Humvee　exploded　only　a　second　later；　fire　lashing　out　from　underneath　in　big　yellow　petals。　The　rear　tires　jumped　out　of　the　snow。　Glass　sprayed　through　the　snowy　air；　all　of　it　going　over　Henry's　head。　Then　the　heat　began　to　bake　him　and　he　crawled　away　rapidly；　dragging　the　carbine　by　its　strap　and　laughing　wildly。　There　was　a　second　explosion　and　the　air　was　filled　with　whirling　hooks　of　shrapnel。
　　　　Henry　got　to　his　feet　like　a　man　climbing　a　ladder；　using　the　lower　branches　of　a　handy　tree　as　rungs。　He　stood；　panting　and　laughing；　legs　aching；　back　aching；　neck　with　an　odd　sprung　feeling。　The　entire　back　half　of　Kurtz's　Humvee　was　engulfed　in　flames。　He　could　hear　the　thing　inside；　chattering　furiously　as　it　burned。
　　　　He　made　a　wide　circle　to　the　passenger　side　of　the　blazing　Humvee　and　aimed　the　carbine　at　the　broken　window。　He　stood　there　for　a　moment；　frowning；　then　realized　why　this　seemed　so　stupid。　All　the　windows　in　the　Humvee　were　broken　now；　all　the　glass　but　the　windshield。　He　began　to　laugh　again。　What　a　dork　he　was！　What　a　total　dork！
　　　　Through　the　hell　of　flames　in　the　Humvee's　cabin；　he　could　still　see　the　weasel　lurching　back　and　forth　like　a　drunk。　How　many　rounds　did　he　have　left　in　the　clip　if　the　fucking　thing　did　e　out？　Fifty？　Twenty？　Five？　However　many　rounds　there　were；　it　would　have　to　be　enough。　He　wouldn't　risk　retreating　to　Owen's　Humvee　for　another　clip。
　　　　But　the　thing　never　came　out。
　　　　Henry　stood　guard　for　five　minutes；　then　stretched　it　to　ten。　The　snow　fell　and　the　Humvee　burned；　pouring　black　smoke　into　the　white　sky。　Henry　stood　there　thinking　of　the　Derry　Days　Parade；　Gary　U。S。　Bonds　singing　'New　Orleans'；　and　here　es　a　tall　man　on　stilts；　here　es　the　legendary　cowboy；　and　how　excited　Duddits　had　been；　jumping　right　up　and　down。　Thinking　of　Pete；　standing　outside　DJHS；　hands　cupped；　pretending　to　smoke；　waiting　for　the　rest　of　them。　Pete；　whose　plan　had　been　to　captain　NASA's　first　manned　Mars　expedition。　Thinking　of　Beaver　and　his　Fonzie　jacket；　Beav　and　his　toothpicks；　Beav　singing　to　Duddits；　Baby's　boat's　a　silver　dream。　Beav　hugging　Jonesy　at　Jonesy's　wedding　and　saying　Jonesy　had　to　be　happy；　he　had　to　be　happy　for　all　of　them。
　　　　Jonesy。
　　　　When　Henry　was　absolutely　sure　the　weasel　was　dead　…　incinerated　…　he　started　up　the　path　to　see　if　Jonesy　was　still　alive。　He　didn't　hold　out　much　hope　of　that　。　。　。　but　he　discovered　he　hadn't　given　up　hope；　either。


33

Only　pain　pinned　Jonesy　to　the　world；　and　at　first　he　thought　the　haggard；　sooty…cheeked　man　kneeling　beside　him　had　to　be　a　dream；　or　a　final　figment　of　his　imagination。　Because　the　man　appeared　to　be　Henry。
　　　　'Jonesy？　Hey；　Jonesy；　are　you　there？'　Henry　snapped　his　fingers　in　front　of　Jonesy's　eyes。　'Earth　to　Jonesy。'
　　　　'Henry；　is　it　you？　Is　it　really？'
　　　　'It's　me；'　Henry　said。　He　glanced　at　the　dog　still　partly　stuck　into　the　crack　at　the　top　of　Shaft　12；　then　back　at　Jonesy。　He　brushed　Jonesy's　sweat…soaked　hair　off　his　forehead　with　infinite　tenderness。
　　　　'Man；　it　took　you　。　。　。'　Jonesy　began；　and　then　the　world　wavered。　He　closed　his　eyes；　concentrated　hard；　then　opened　them　again。　'　。　。　。　took　you　long　enough　to　get　back　from　the　store。　Did　you　remember　the　bread'　'
　　　　'Yeah；　but　I　lost　the　hot　dogs。'
　　　　'What　a　fuckin　pisser。'　Jonesy　took　a　long　and　wavering　breath。
　　　　'I'll　go　myself；　next　time。'
　　　　'Kiss　my　bender；　pal；'　Henry　said；　and　Jonesy　slipped　into　darkness　smiling。

E　P　I　L　O　G　U　E

LABOR　DAY




　　　The　universe；　she　is　a　bitch。
　　　…　Norman　Maclean

Another　summer　down　the　tubes；　Henry　thought。
　　　　There　was　nothing　sad　about　the　thought；　though；　summer　had　been　good；　and　fall　would　be　good；　too。　No　hunting　this　year；　and　there