sk.dreamcatcher-第18部分

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　　　　Pete　fumbled　but　couldn't　seem　to　find　it　even　though　it　was　right　in　front　of　him。　Working　carefully；　with　not　the　slightest　feeling　of　impatience　（he　supposed　he　might　be　in　shock）；　Henry　unclipped　the　belt　and　Pete　thumped　to　the　roof；　his　head　bending　sideways。　He　screamed　in　mingled　surprise　and　pain　and　then　came　floundering　and　yanking　his　way　out　of　the　half…open　door。　Henry　grabbed　him　under　his　arms　and　pulled　backward。　They　both　went　over　in　the　snow　and　Henry　was　afflicted　with　déjà　vu　so　strong　and　so　sudden　it　was　like　swooning。　Hadn't　they　played　just　this　way　as　kids？　Of　course　they　had。　The　day　they'd　taught　Duddits　how　to　make　snow　angels；　for　one。　Someone　began　to　laugh；　startling　him　badly。　Then　he　realized　it　was　him。
　　　　Pete　sat　up；　wild…eyed　and　glowering；　the　back　of　him　covered　with　snow。　'The　fuck　are　you　laughing　about？　That　asshole　almost　got　us　killed！　I'm　gonna　strangle　the　son　of　a　bitch！'
　　　　'Not　her　son　but　the　bitch　herself；'　Henry　said。　He　was　laughing　harder　than　ever　and　thought　it　quite　likely　that　Pete　didn't　understand　what　he　was　saying　…　especially　with　the　wind　thrown　in　…　but　he　didn't　care。　Seldom　had　he　felt　so　delicious。
　　　　Pete　flailed　to　his　feet　much　as　Henry　had　done　himself；　and　Henry　was　just　about　to　say　something　wise；　something　about　how　Pete　was　moving　pretty　well　for　a　guy　with　a　broken　leg；　when　Pete　went　back　down　with　a　cry　of　pain。　Henry　went　to　him　and　felt　Pete's　leg；　thrust　out　in　front　of　him。　It　seemed　intact；　but　who　could　tell　through　two　layers　of　clothing？
　　　　'It　ain't　broke　after　all；'　Pete　said；　but　he　was　panting　with　pain。　'Fucker's　locked　up　is　all；　just　like　when　I　was　playin　football。　Where　is　she？　You　sure　it's　a　woman？'
　　　　'Yes。'
　　　　Pete　got　up　and　hobbled　around　the　front　of　the　car　holding　his　knee。　The　remaining　headlight　still　shone　bravely　into　the　snow。　'She　better　be　crippled　or　blind；　that's　all　I　can　say；'　he　told　Henry。　'If　she's　not；　I'm　gonna　kick　her　ass　all　the　way　back　to　Gosselin's。'　Henry　began　to　laugh　again。　It　was　the　mental　picture　of　Pete　hopping　。　。　。　then　kicking。　Like　some　fucked…up　Rockette。　'Peter；　don't　you　really　hurt　her！'　he　shouted；　suspecting　any　severity　he　might　have　managed　was　negated　by　the　fact　that　he　was　speaking　between　gusts　of　maniacal　laughter。
　　　　'I　won't　unless　she　puts　some　sass　on　me；'　Pete　said。　The　words；　carried　back　to　Henry　on　the　wind；　had　an　offended…old…lady　quality　to　them　that　made　him　laugh　harder　than　ever。　He　scooted　down　his　jeans　and　long　underwear　and　stood　there　in　his　jockeys　to　see　how　badly　the　turnsignal　stalk　had　wounded　him。
　　　　It　was　a　shallow　gash　about　three　inches　long　on　the　inside　of　his　thigh。　It　had　bled　copiously　…　was　still　oozing　…　but　Henry　didn't　think　it　was　deep。
　　　　'What　in　the　hell　did　you　think　you　were　doing？'　Pete　scolded　from　the　other　side　of　the　overturned　Scout；　whose　wipers　were　still　whick…thumping　back　and　forth。　And　although　Pete's　tirade　was　laced　with　profanity　（much　of　it　decidedly　Beaverish）；　his　friend　still　sounded　to　Henry　like　an　offended　old　lady　schoolteacher；　and　this　got　him　laughing　again　as　he　hauled　up　his　britches。
　　　　'Why　you　sittin　out　here　in　the　middle　of　the　motherfuckin　road　in　the　middle　of　a　motherfuckin　snowstorm？　You　drunk？　High　on　drugs？　What　kind　of　dumb　doodlyfuck　are　you？　Hey；　talk　to　me！　You　almost　got　me　n　my　buddy　killed；　the　least　you　can　do　is　。　。　。　oww；　FUCK…ME…FREDDY！'
　　　　Henry　came　around　the　wreck　just　in　time　to　see　Pete　fall　over　beside　Ms　Buddha。　His　leg　must　have　locked　up　again。　She　never　looked　at　him。　The　orange　ribbons　on　her　hat　blew　out　behind　her。　　　　
　　　　Her　face　was　raised　into　the　storm；　wide　eyes　not　blinking　as　the　snowflakes　whirled　into　them　to　melt　on　their　warm　living　lenses；　and　Henry　felt；　in　spite　of　everything；　his　professional　curiosity　aroused。　Just　what　had　they　found　here？


3

'Oww；　fuck　me　sideways；　shit…a…goddam；　don't　that　fuckin　HURT！'
　　　　'Are　you　all　right？'　Henry　asked；　and　that　started　him　laughing　again。　What　a　foolish　question。
　　　　'Do　I　sound　all　right；　shrink…boy？'　Pete　asked　waspishly；　but　when　Henry　bent　toward　him；　he　raised　one　hand　and　waved　him　away。　'Nah；　I　got　it；　it's　lettin　go；　check　Princess　Dipshit。　She　just　sits　there。'
　　　　Henry　dropped　to　his　knees　in　front　of　the　woman；　wincing　at　the　pain　…　his　legs；　yes；　but　his　shoulder　also　hurt　where　he　had　banged　it　on　the　roof　and　his　neck　was　stiffening　rapidly　…　but　still　chuckling。
　　　　This　was　no　dewy　damsel　in　distress。　She　was　forty　at　least；　and　heavyset。　Although　her　parka　was　thick　and　she　was　wearing　God　knew　how　many　layers　beneath　it；　it　swelled　noticeably　in　front；　indicating　the　sort　of　prodigious　jugs　for　which　breast…reduction　surgery　had　been　made。　The　hair　whipping　out　from　beneath　and　around　the　flaps　of　her　cap　was　cut　in　no　particular　style。　Like　them；　she　was　wearing　jeans；　but　one　of　her　thighs　would　have　made　two　of　Henry's。　The　first　word　to　occur　to　him　was　countrywoman　…　the　kind　of　woman　you　saw　hanging　out　her　wash　in　the　toy…littered　yard　beside　her　doublewide　trailer　while　Garth　or　Shania　blared　from　a　radio　stuck　in　an　open　window　。　。　。　or　maybe　buying　a　few　groceries　at　Gosselin's。　The　orange　gear　suggested　that　she　might　have　been　hunting；　but　if　so；　where　was　her　rifle？　Already　covered　in　snow？　Her　wide　eyes　were　dark　blue　and　utterly　blank。　Henry　looked　for　her　tracks　and　saw　none。　The　wind　had　erased　them；　no　doubt；　but　it　was　still　eerie；　she　might　have　dropped　from　the　sky。
　　　　Henry　pulled　his　glove　off　and　snapped　his　fingers　in　front　of　those　staring　eyes。　They　blinked。　It　wasn't　much；　but　more　than　he　had　expected；　given　the　fact　that　a　multi…ton　vehicle　had　just　missed　her　by　inches　and　never　a　twitch　from　her。
　　　　'Hey！'　he　shouted　in　her　face。　'Hey；　e　back！　e　back！'　He　snapped　his　fingers　again　and　could　hardly　feel　them　…　when　had　it　turned　so　cold？　We're　in　a　goddam　situation　here；　he　thought。
　　　　The　woman　burped。　The　sound　was　startlingly　loud　even　with　the　wind　in　the　trees；　and　before　it　was　snatched　away　by　the　moving　air；　he　got　a　whiff　of　something　both　bitter　and　pungent　it　smelled　like　medicinal　alcohol。　The　woman　shifted　and　grimaced；　then　broke　wind　…　a　long；　purring　fart　that　sounded　like　ripping　cloth。　Maybe；　Henry　thought；　it's　how　the　locals　say　hello。　The　idea　got　him　laughing　again。
　　　　'Holy　shit；'　Pete　said；　almost　in　his　ear。　'Sounds　like　she　nipped　out　the　seat　of　her　pants　with　that　one。　What　you　been　drinkin；　lady；　Prestone？'　And　then；　to　Henry：　'She's　been　drinkin　somethin；　by　Christ；　and　if　it　ain't　antifreeze；　I'm　a　monkey。'
　　　　Henry　could　smell　it；　too。
　　　　The　woman's　eyes　suddenly　shifted；　met　Henry's　own。　He　was　shocked　by　the　pain　he　saw　in　them。　'Where's　Rick？'　she　asked。　'I　have　to　find　Rick　…　he's　the　only　one　left。'　She　grimaced；　and　when　her　lips　peeled　back；　Henry　saw　that　half　her　teeth　were　gone。　Those　remaining　looked　like　stakes　in　a　dilapidated　fence。　She　belched　again；　and　the　smell　was　strong　enough　to　make　his　eyes　water。
　　　　'Aw；　holy　Christ！'　Pete　nearly　screamed。　'What's　wrong　with　her？'
　　　　'I　don't　know；'　Henry　said。　The　only　things　he　knew　for　sure　were　that　the　woman's　eyes　had　gone　blank　again　and　that　they　were　in　a　goddam　situation　here。　Had　he　been　alone；　he　might　have　considered　sitting　down　next　to　the　woman　and　putting　his　arm　around　her　…　a　much　more　interesting　and　unique　answer　to　the　final　problem　than　the　Hemingway　Solution。　But　there　was　Pete　to　think　about　…　Pete　hadn't　even　been　through　his　first　alcohol　rehab　yet；　although　that　was　undoubtedly　in　the　cards。
　　　　And　besides；　he　was　curious。


4

Pete　was　sitting　in　the　snow；　working　at　his　knee　again　with　his　hands；　looking　at　Henry；　waiting　for　him　to　do　something；　which　was　fair　enough；　since　so　often　he　had　been　the　idea　man　of　their　quartet。　They　hadn't　had　a　leader；　but　Henry　had　been　the　closest　thing　to　it。　Even　back　in　junior　high　school　that　had　been　true。　The　woman；　meanwhile；　was　looking　at　no　one；　just　staring　off　into　the　snow　again。
　　　　Settle；　Henry　thought。　Just　take　a　deep　breath　and　settle。
　　　　He　took　the　breath；　held　it；　and　let　it　out。　Better。　A　little　better。　All　right；　what　was　up　with　this　lady？　Never　mind　where　she'd　e　from；　what　she　was　doing　here；　or　why　she　smelled　like　diluted　antifreeze　when　she　burped。　What　was　up　with　her　right　now？
　　　　Shock；　obviously。　Shock　so　deep　it　was　like　a　form　of　catatonia　…　witness　how　she　had　not　so　much　as　stirred　when　the　Scout　went　skidding　by　her　at　shaving　distance。　And　yet　she　hadn't　retreated　so　far　inside　that　only　a　hypo　of　something　excitable　could　reach　her；　she　had　responded　to　the　snap　of　his　fingers；　and　she　had　spoken。　Had　inquired　about　someone　named　Rick。
　　　　'Henry…'
　　　　'Quiet　a　minute。'
　　　　He　took　off　his　gloves　again；　held　his　hands　in　front　of　her　face；　and　clapped　them　smartly。　He　thought　the　sound　very　small　pared　to　the　steady　whoosh　of　the　wind　in　the　trees；　but　she　blinked　again。
　　　　'On　your　feet！'
　　　　Henry　took　her　gloved　hands　and　was　encouraged　when　they　closed　reflexively　around　his。　He　leaned　forward；　getting　into　her　face；　smelling　that　ethery　odor。　No　one　who　smelled　like　that　could　be　very　well。
　　　　'On　you