sk.dreamcatcher-第94部分

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Hughes　Meams

CHAPTER　EIGHTEEN

THE　CHASE　BEGINS


1

Jonesy　had　no　idea　what　time　it　was　when　the　green　DYSART'S　Sign　twinkled　out　of　the　snowy　gloom　…　the　Ram's　dashboard　clock　was　bitched　up；　just　flashing　12：00　A。M。　over　and　over　…　but　it　was　still　dark　and　still　snowing　hard。　Outside　of　Derry；　the　plows　were　losing　their　battle　with　the　storm。　The　stolen　Ram　was　'a　pretty　good　goer'；　as　Jonesy's　Pop　would　have　said；　but　it　too　was　losing　its　battle；　slipping　and　slueing　more　frequently　in　the　deepening　snow；　fighting　its　way　through　the　drifts　with　increasing　difficulty。　Jonesy　had　no　idea　where　Mr　Gray　thought　he　was　going；　but　Jonesy　didn't　believe　he　would　get　there。　Not　in　this　storm；　not　in　this　truck。
　　　　The　radio　worked；　but　not　very　well；　so　far　everything　that　came　through　was　faint；　blurred　with　static。　He　heard　no　time…checks；　but　picked　up　a　weather　report。　The　storm　had　switched　over　to　rain　from　Portland　south；　but　from　Augusta　to　Brunswick；　the　radio　said；　the　precipitation　was　a　wicked　mix　of　sleet　and　freezing　rain。　Most　munities　were　without　power；　and　nothing　without　chains　on　its　wheels　was　moving。
　　　　Jonesy　liked　this　news　just　fine。


2

When　Mr　Gray　turned　the　steering　wheel　to　head　up　the　ramp　toward　the　beckoning　green　sign；　the　Ram　pickup　slid　broadside；　spraying　up　great　clouds　of　snow。　Jonesy　knew　he　likely　would　have　gone　off　the　exit　ramp　and　into　the　ditch　if　he'd　been　in　control；　but　he　wasn't。　And　although　he　was　no　longer　immune　to　Jonesy's　emotions；　Mr　Gray　seemed　much　less　prone　to　panic　in　a　stress　situation。　Instead　of　wrenching　blindly　against　the　skid；　Mr　Gray　turned　into　it；　held　the　wheel　over　until　the　slide　stopped；　then　straightened　the　truck　out　again。　The　dog　sleeping　in　the　passenger　footwell　never　woke　up；　and　Jonesy's　pulse　barely　rose。　If　he　had　been　in　control；　Jonesy　knew；　his　heart　would　have　been　hammering　like　hell。　But；　of　course；　his　idea　of　what　to　do　with　the　car　when　it　stormed　like　this　was　to　put　it　in　the　garage。
　　　　Mr　Gray　obeyed　the　stop…sign　at　the　top　of　the　ramp；　although　Route　9　was　a　drifted　wasteland　in　either　direction。　Across　from　the　ramp　was　a　huge　parking　lot　brilliantly　lit　by　arc…sodiums；　beneath　their　glare；　the　wind…driven　snow　seemed　to　move　like　the　frozen　respiration　of　an　enormous；　unseen　beast。　On　an　ordinary　night；　Jonesy　knew；　that　yard　would　have　been　full　of　rumbling　diesel　semis；　Kenworths　and　Macks　and　Jimmy…Petes　with　their　green　and　amber　cab…lights　glimmering。　Tonight　the　area　was　almost　deserted；　except　for　the　area　marked　LONG…TERM　SEE　YARD　MANAGER　　　MUST　HAVE　TICKET。　In　there　were　a　dozen　or　more　freight…haulers；　their　edges　softened　by　the　drifts。　Inside；　their　drivers　would　be　eating；　playing　pinball；　watching　Spank…O…Vision　in　the　truckers'　lounge；　or　trying　to　sleep　in　the　grim　dormitory　out　back；　where　ten　dollars　got　you　a　cot；　a　clean　blanket；　and　a　scenic　view　of　a　cinderblock　wall。　All　of　them　no　doubt　thinking　the　same　two　thoughts：　When　can　I　roll？　And　How　much　is　this　going　to　cost　me？
　　　　Mr　Gray　stepped　down　on　the　gas；　and　although　he　did　it　gently；　as　Jonesy's　file　concerning　winter　driving　suggested；　all　four　of　the　pickup's　wheels　spun；　and　the　truck　began　to　jitter　sideways；　digging　itself　in。
　　　　Go　on！　Jonesy　cheered　from　his　position　at　the　office　window。　Go　on；　stick　it！　Stick　it　right　up　to　the　rocker…panels！　Because　when　you're　stuck　in　a　four…wheel　drive；　you're　really　stuck！
　　　　Then　the　wheels　caught　…　first　the　front　ones；　where　the　weight　of　the　motor　gave　the　Ram　a　little　more　traction　…　then　the　back　ones。　The　Ram　trundled　across　Route　9　and　toward　the　sign　marked　ENTRANCE。　Beyond　it　was　another：　WELE　TO　THE　BEST　TRUCK　STOP　IN　NEW　ENGLAND。　Then　the　truck's　headlights　picked　out　a　third；　snowcaked　but　readable：　HELL；　WELE　TO　THE　BEST　TRUCK　STOP　ON　EARTH。
　　　　Is　this　the　best　truck　stop　on　earth？　Mr　Gray　asked。
　　　　Of　course；　Jonesy　said。　And　then　…　he　couldn't　help　it　…　he　burst　out　laughing。
　　　　Why　do　you　do　that？　Why　do　you　make　that　sound？
　　　　Jonesy　realized　an　amazing　thing；　both　touching　and　terrifying：　Mr　Gray　was　smiling　with　Jonesy's　mouth。　Not　much；　just　a　little；　but　it　was　a　smile。　He　doesn't　really　know　what　laughter　is；　Jonesy　thought。　Of　course　he　hadn't　known　what　anger　was；　either；　but　he　had　proved　to　be　a　remarkably　fast　learner；　he　could　now　tantrum　with　the　best　of　them。
　　　　What　you　said　struck　me　funny。
　　　　What　exactly　is　funny？
　　　　Jonesy　had　no　idea　how　to　answer　the　question。　He　wanted　Mr　Gray　to　experience　the　entire　gamut　of　human　emotions；　suspecting　that　humanizing　his　usurper　might　ultimately　be　his　only　chance　of　survival　…　we　have　met　the　enemy　and　he　is　us；　Pogo　had　once　said。　But　how　did　you　explain　funny　to　a　collection　of　spores　from　another　world？　And　what　was　funny　about　Dysart's　proclaiming　itself　the　best　truck　stop　on　earth？
　　　　Now　they　were　passing　yet　another　sign；　one　with　arrows　pointing　left　and　right。　BIGUNS　it　said　beneath　the　left　arrow。　And　LITTLEUNS　under　the　right。
　　　　Which　are　we？　Mr　Gray　asked；　stopping　at　the　sign。
　　　　Jonesy　could　have　made　him　retrieve　the　information；　but　what　would　have　been　the　point？　We're　a　littleun；　he　said；　and　Mr　Gray　turned　the　Ram　to　the　right。　The　tires　spun　a　little　and　the　truck　lurched。　Lad　raised　his　head；　let　fly　another　long　and　fragrant　fart；　then　whined。　His　lower　midsection　had　swelled　and　distended；　anyone　who　didn't　know　better　would　no　doubt　have　mistaken　him　for　a　bitch　about　to　give　birth　to　a　good…sized　litter。
　　　　There　were　perhaps　two　dozen　cars　and　pickups　parked　in　the　littleuns'　lot；　the　ones　most　deeply　buried　in　snow　belonging　to　the　help　…　mechanics　（always　one　or　two　on　duty）；　waitresses；　short…order　cooks。　The　cleanest　vehicle　there；　Jonesy　saw　with　sharp　interest；　was　a　powder…blue　State　Police　car　with　packed　snow　around　the　roof…lights。　Being　arrested　would　certainly　put　a　spike　in　Mr　Gray's　plans；　on　the　other　hand；　Jonesy　had　already　been　present　at　three　murder…sites；　if　you　counted　the　cab　of　the　pickup。　No　witnesses　at　the　first　two　crime　scenes；　and　probably　no　Gary　Jones　fingerprints；　either；　but　here？　Sure。　Plenty　of　them。　He　could　see　himself　standing　in　a　courtroom　somewhere　and　saying；　But　Judge；　it　was　the　alien　inside　me　who　mitted　those　murders。　It　was　Mr　Gray。　Another　joke　that　Mr　Gray　wouldn't　get。
　　　　That　worthy；　meanwhile；　had　been　rummaging　again。　Dry　Farts；　he　said。　Why　do　you　call　this　place　Dry　Farts　when　the　sign　says　Dysart's？
　　　　It's　what　Lamar　used　to　call　it；　Jonesy　said；　remembering　long；　hilarious　breakfasts　here；　usually　going　or　ing　back　from　Hole　in　the　Wall。　And　this　fit　night　into　the　tradition；　didn't　it？　My　Dad　called　it　that；　too。
　　　　Is　it　funny？
　　　　Moderately；　I　guess。　It's　a　pun　based　on　similar　sounds。　Puns　are　what　we　call　the　lowest　form　of　humor。
　　　　Mr　Gray　parked　in　the　rank　closest　to　the　lighted　island　of　the　restaurant；　but　all　the　way　down　from　the　State　Police　cruiser。　Jonesy　had　no　idea　if　Mr　Gray　understood　the　significance　of　the　lightbars　on　top　or　not。　He　reached　for　the　Ram's　headlight　knob　and　pushed　it　in。　He　reached　for　the　ignition；　then　stopped　and　issued　several　hard　barks　of　laughter：　'Ha！　Ha！　Ha！　Ha！'
　　　　How'd　that　feel？　Jonesy　asked；　more　than　a　little　curious。　A　little　apprehensive；　too。
　　　　'Like　nothing；'　Mr　Gray　said　flatly；　and　turned　off　the　ignition。　But　then；　sitting　there　in　the　dark　with　the　wind　howling　around　the　cab　of　the　truck；　he　did　it　again；　and　with　a　little　more　conviction：　'Ha！　Ha；　ha；　ha！'　In　his　office　refuge；　Jonesy　shivered。　It　was　a　creepy　sound；　like　a　ghost　trying　to　remember　how　to　be　human。
　　　　Lad　didn't　like　it　either。　He　whined　again；　looking　uneasily　at　the　man　behind　the　steering　wheel　of　his　master's　truck。


3

Owen　was　shaking　Henry　awake；　and　Henry　responded　reluctantly。　He　felt　as　if　he　had　gone　to　sleep　only　seconds　ago。　His　limbs　all　seemed　to　have　been　dipped　in　cement。
　　　　'Henry。'
　　　　'I'm　here。'　Left　leg　itching。　Mouth　itching　even　worse；　the　　goddam　byrus　was　growing　on　his　lips　now；　too。　He　rubbed　it　off　with　his　forefinger；　surprised　at　how　easily　it　broke　free。　Like　a　crust。
　　　　'Listen　up。　And　look。　Can　you　look？'
　　　　Henry　looked　up　the　road；　which　was　now　dim　and　snow…ghostly　…　Owen　had　pulled　the　Sno…Cat　over　and　turned　off　the　lights。　Farther　along；　there　were　mental　voices　in　the　dark；　the　auditory　equivalent　of　a　campfire。　Henry　went　to　them。　There　were　four　of　them；　young　men　with　no　seniority　in　。　。　。　in　。　。　。
　　　　Blue　Group；　Owen　whispered。　This　time　we're　Blue　Group。
　　　　Four　young　men　with　no　seniority　in　Blue　Group；　trying　not　to　be　scared　。　。　。　trying　to　be　tough　。　。　。　voices　in　the　dark　。　。　。　a　little　campfire　of　voices　in　the　dark　。　。　。
　　　　By　its　light；　Henry　discovered　he　could　see　dimly：　snow；　of　course；　and　a　few　flashing　yellow　lights　illuminating　a　turnpike　entrance　ramp。　There　was　also　the　lid　of　a　pizza　carton　seen　in　the　light　of　an　instrument　panel。　It　had　been　turned　into　a　tray。　On　it　were　Saltines；　several　blocks　of　cheese；　and　a　Swiss　Army　knife。　The　Swiss　Army　knife　belonged　to　the　one　named　Smitty；　and　they　were　all　using　it　to　cut　the　cheese。　The　longer　Henry　looked；　the　better　h