pzb.drawingblood-第76节

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　　〃Thanks；　but　I'll　pass。〃
　　〃I'll　take　it；〃　said　Terry。
　　The　others　carried　five　loads　in　from　the　Mustang　while　Zach　dialed　up　the　Louisiana　DMV　puter　and　made　the　necessary　changes；　plus　a　couple　of　embellishments。　Eddy　selected　several　items　from　the　piles　of　Zach's　stuff：　a　bulky　army　jacket；　a　pair　of　sunglasses；　the　broadbrimmed　black　hat　Dougal　had　sold　Zach　in　the　French　Market　less　than　a　week　ago。　When　she　put　these　things　on；　it　was　obvious　that　from　a　distance　she　could　easily　pass　for　Zach。
　　Eddy　walked　over　to　the　sofa。　〃Excuse　me；〃　she　said　to　Trevor；　and　leaned　down　and　kissed　Zach　square　on　the　lips。　Then　she　turned　and　went　to　the　front　door　and　smiled　back　at　them。　It　was　a　rather　rueful　smile；　but　not　a　bitter　one。
　　〃It's　been　nice　knowing　all　of　you；〃　she　said。　〃Really　it　has。　Good　luck　to　you。　I　think　you'll　all　need　it。　Give　me　about　ten　minutes'　head　start。〃
　　The　door　closed　noiselessly　behind　her。　A　few　moments　later　they　heard　the　smooth　purr　of　the　Mustang　pulling　out　of　the　driveway。
　　Everyone　gazed　uncertainly　at　each　other。　Then　Trevor　asked　Zach；　〃Did　you　really　dream　about　Jamaica？〃
　　Zach　started　to　nod；　winced；　and　said；　〃Yes。〃
　　〃Then　let's　go。〃
　　They　looked　up　to　see　Kinsey；　Terry；　and　even　Dougal　grinning　like　proud　parents　at　a　wedding。
　　〃Maybe　we　got　time　for　jus'　one　more　little　smoke；〃　said　Dougal。　〃I　t'ink　we　got　somet'ing　to　celebrate。〃
　　
　　Eddy　drove　along　Kinsey's　road；　stopped　the　car　for　a　long　moment　at　the　intersection；　then　turned　right　at　Farmers　Hardware　onto　Firehouse　Street。　She　didn't　know　where　the　agents　were　or　what　their　cars　would　look　like；　but　she　figured　she　could　make　them　see　her。
　　She　tugged　the　black　hat　down　over　her　face；　pushed　the　sunglasses　up　on　her　nose；　and　gathered　every　particle　of　her　nerve。　She　was　going　to　have　to　do　some　fancy　driving。　But　the　car　could　take　it；　Zach　had　once　driven　her　down　Highway　10　at　a　hundred　twenty　miles　per　hour。　And　she　could　take　it　too。
　　She　was　sick　of　hot；　humid　weather　that　sapped　the　strength　but　teased　the　libido。　For　that　matter；　she　was　sick　of　the　libido。　She　was　sick　of　beautiful　boys；　geeks；　and　the　assorted　mutants　that　fell　somewhere　in　between。　She　was　going　to　have　adventures　she　damn　well　felt　like　having；　ones　that　didn't　depend　on　some　man。　One　way　or　another；　this　would　be　the　first。
　　She　saw　the　Whirling　Disc　up　ahead　on　her　left。　Halfway　through　downtown　now。　They'd　had　plenty　of　time　to　notice　the　car；　plenty　of　time　to　read　the　license　plate　if　Stefan　had　been　able　to　give　them　that。
　　Eddy　revved　the　engine；　stomped　the　gas；　and　went　blasting　through　Missing　Mile。　The　needle　jittered　up　to　sixty；　seventy…five；　eighty。　She　glanced　in　her　rearview　mirror；　saw　three　white　Chevy　vans　pulling　away　from　the　curb　behind　her；　and　let　out　a　howl　of　pure　triumph。
　　They　hit　the　open　road　going　ninety。　Eddy　kept　pushing　the　Mustang；　watched　the　vans　fall　behind。　She　tried　to　keep　the　needle　steady　at　a　hundred。　She　didn't　want　to　lose　them　too　fast；　not　until　Dougal's　creaky　old　station　wagon　had　had　plenty　of　time　to　slip　out　the　other　way。
　　Eddy　turned　on　the　tape　player；　cranked　up　the　volume。　〃YORE　CHEATIN'　HAWRRRRRT；〃　whined　Hank　Williams。　She　hit　the　EJECT　button；　risked　a　glance　at　the　other　tapes　on　the　dashboard；　tossed　Hank　in　the　back　seat；　and　slapped　on　Patsy　Cline。
　　Crazy。　Crazy　for　lovin'　you　。　。　。
　　Not　anymore；　kiddo。
　　Maybe　they　would　catch　her。　But　they　couldn't　keep　her；　her　money　and　her　car　were　no　longer　traceable　to　Zach。　She　trusted　him　on　that　one。　And　after　that；　she　would　go　where　she　wanted。
　　Eddy　saw　a　wide；　bright　highway　heading　west；　with　the　marvelous　clean　flatlands　beginning　to　unfurl　before　her　wheels。　Prairie；　mesa；　desert　stark　and　dry　as　a　bone；　stretching　all　the　way　to　the　Pacific　Ocean。
　　It　was　hers　to　have；　and　she　wanted　it。
　　
　　Thursday　night　and　Friday　morning　were　a　long　confusing　blur。　Zach　remembered　getting　dressed；　Kinsey　and　Terry　hugging　him；　then　climbing　into　the　back　seat　of　Dougal's　station　wagon　and　promptly　falling　asleep　in　Trevor's　lap。
　　Somewhere　near　Atlanta；　he　thought；　Dougal　stopped　the　car　in　a　pretty　little　suburb　and　ushered　them　into　a　houseful　of　Jamaicans。　A　Hefty　garbage　bag　full　of　fragrant　marijuana　sat　in　the　middle　of　the　living…room　floor　and　massive　joints　were　constantly　being　rolled。　They　were　given　bowls　of　spicy　goat　stew　and　glasses　of　fresh　ginger　beer。　From　the　boom　box　in　the　corner；　Bob　Marley　sang　that　every　little　thing　was　gonna　be　all　right。　Zach　was　beginning　to　believe　him。
　　They　all　grabbed　a　couple　of　hours'　sleep。　Then　Dougal　drove　straight　through　to　South　Louisiana。　〃Lay　low；　Zachary；〃　he　thought　he　remembered　hearing　Dougal　whisper　once。　〃We　pretty　close　to　New　Orleans　now。　But　we　be　at　Colin's　soon。〃　Then　nothing　but　green　swamp　light　for　miles　and　miles；　and　Trevor　holding　him　all　the　way。
　　They　arrived　at　Colin's　place　at　dusk。　It　was　a　small　shack　deep　in　the　swamp；　surrounded　by　still　water；　bright　green　vines　and　other　vegetation；　great　moss…encrusted　stands　of　cypress　and　oak。　Out　back　in　a　large　cleared　area　was　the　runway。　It　was　built　atop　the　mud；　Zach　thought；　on　the　same　basic　principle　as　a　cracker　balanced　on　toothpicks　sunk　into　a　dish　of　thick　pudding。　On　the　runway　sat　Colin's　plane；　so　small　and　spindly　it　looked　like　a　toy。　They　would　be　taking　off　in　the　morning。　They　stared　at　the　ramshackle　contraption；　then　at　each　other。　〃Adventure；〃　Zach　murmured；　and　Trevor　nodded。
　　Colin　was　a　wiry；　jet…black　Rastafarian　with　dreadlocks　hanging　halfway　to　his　waist。　The　inside　of　his　shack　was　a　single　large　room　with　sleeping　bags　on　the　floor。　Trevor　and　Zach　crawled　into　a　single　bag　and　fell　asleep。　Dougal　and　Colin　sat　up　most　of　the　night；　talking　and　smoking。
　　They　climbed　the　steps　into　the　cargo　hold　at　dawn。　Zach's　stomach　dropped　as　he　felt　the　wheels　leave　the　ground。　But　once　they　were　in　the　air　the　motion　was　soothing；　lulling　him　back　to　sleep　with　the　weight　of　America　lifting　off　his　back。
　　He　woke　up　once　on　the　flight　to　the　sound　of　someone　gagging；　realized　it　was　himself。　Trevor　was　awkwardly　holding　his　head　up　while　Dougal　offered　him　a　neat　little　plastic…lined　bag　to　puke　in。　〃Colin　keep　these　in　de　plane；〃　Dougal　explained。　〃It's　jus'　de　Bermuda　Triangle　make　some　people　sick　a　little。　Soon　pass。〃
　　Zach　felt　horrible。　His　food…deprived　body　must　have　sucked　up　the　goat　stew　already；　he　only　had　the　dry　heaves。　Soon　the　nausea　subsided　a　little。　Dougal　handed　him　a　smoldering　joint　and　he　dragged　on　it　gratefully。　〃We're　over　the　Bermuda　Triangle？〃
　　〃Jus'　a　little　on　de　edge。〃
　　Zach　handed　the　joint　back　to　Dougal；　who　crawled　up　to　the　cockpit　to　pass　it　to　Colin。　He　closed　his　eyes　and　leaned　back　against　Trevor。　〃What　do　you　think；　Trev？〃　he　whispered。　〃Am　I　a　fun　date　or　what？〃
　　He　was　pretty　sure　he　knew　the　answer。　But　he　fell　back　asleep　before　he　could　hear　it。
　　Sometime　later　Trevor　shook　him　awake　and　gripped　his　hand。　The　plane　was　full　of　light。　Dougal　motioned　them　toward　the　cockpit。　Peering　over　the　pilot's　mass　of　dreadlocks；　Zach　could　see　a　calm　clear　expanse　of　water　the　color　of　turquoise；　a　stretch　of　beach　like　a　wide　white　ribbon　unfurling　out　of　sight；　a　lush　green　country　in　the　distance。
　　The　place　he　had　seen　in　his　dreams。　A　place　for　him　and　his　lover　to　get　lost　together。
　　〃Wele　home；〃　said　the　Rasta　man。
　　
　　
　　One　Month　Later
　　
　　The　asphalt　of　Firehouse　Street　had　begun　to　soften　in　the　July　heat　by　the　time　Kinsey　let　himself　into　the　Sacred　Yew。　The　summer　had　gotten　hotter　and　wetter　until　all　the　days　seemed　to　run　together　in　a　long　soggy　blur。　It　would　continue　like　this　straight　on　through　September。　Kinsey　could　not　bring　himself　to　concoct　any　dinner　specials；　one　did　not　want　to　cook　in　this　weather；　did　not　even　want　to　eat。
　　The　Secret　Service　agents　had　e　back　at　the　end　of　June　to　ask　more　questions。　It　seemed　they　had　been　mistaken　about　the　car　Zach　drove；　and　were　now　looking　for　a　tan　Malibu　registered　in　his　name。　Of　course；　no　one　in　Missing　Mile　knew　anything。　None　of　the　kids　had　ever　seen　that　pallid　raven…haired　boy　whose　picture　the　agent　kept　flashing　around。　No　one　remembered　the　night　Gumbo　had　had　a　guest　singer；　especially　not　the　ones　who　had　been　in　the　crowd　at　that　show；　galvanized　by　a　wild　voice　now　tragic；　now　raucous；　now　joyous。
　　Kinsey　grabbed　a　Natty　Boho　from　the　cooler　and　stood　at　the　bar　sorting　through　the　day's　mail。　Electric　bill；　surprisingly　low　。　。　。　gas　bill　。　。　。　collection　agency　notice　。　。　。　and　two　postcards。　One　was　postmarked　Flagstaff；　Arizona；　and　read　KINSEY；　YOU　FORGOT　TO　PAY　THE　PHONE　BILL。　LOVE；　STEVE。　Below　that　was　scrawled　Krazy　Kat　lived　here　and　an　amorphous　swirl　that　might　have　been　a　G。
　　The　other　card　was　creased；　smudged；　ragged　at　the　edges。　But　Kinsey　thought　it　still　bore　a　faint　breath　of　sun　and　salt。　The　picture　side　was　a　closeup　photograph　of　some　ackee；　the　peculiar　Jamaican　fruit　that　was　deadly　poison　before　it　burst　open；　but　could　be　scrambled　like　eggs　afterward。　Creamy　yellow　curds　of　flesh