sk.thetalisman-第54节

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t　out　here。'　He　rewarded　the　girls　with　a　superior　little　smile。　The　brown…haired　girl　looked　smirkingly　toward　Jack；　then　swung　herself　across　the　asphalt　with　her　friends。　The　three　girls　followed　Timmy's　arrogant　body　through　the　glass　doors　into　the　mall。
　　Jack　waited　until　the　figures　of　Timmy　and　his　court；　visible　through　the　glass；　had　shrunk　to　the　size　of　puppies　far　down　the　long　mall　before　he　stepped　on　the　plate　which　opened　the　doors。
　　Cold　predigested　air　embraced　him。
　　
　　Water　trickled　down　over　a　fountain　two　stories　high　set　in　a　wide　pool　surrounded　by　benches。　Open…fronted　shops　on　both　levels　faced　the　fountain。　Bland　Muzak　drifted　down　from　the　ochre　ceiling；　as　did　the　peculiar　bronzy　light；　the　smell　of　popcorn；　which　had　struck　Jack　the　moment　the　glass　doors　had　whooshed　shut　behind　him；　emanated　from　an　antique　popcorn　wagon；　painted　fire…engine　red　and　stationed　outside　a　Waldenbooks　to　the　left　of　the　fountain　on　the　ground　level。　Jack　had　seen　immediately　that　there　was　no　movie　theater　in　the　Buckeye　Mall。　Timmy　and　his　leggy　princesses　were　floating　up　the　escalator　at　the　mall's　other　end；　making；　Jack　thought；　for　a　fast…food　restaurant　called　The　Captain's　Table　right　at　the　top　of　the　escalator。　Jack　put　his　hand　in　his　pants　pocket　again　and　touched　his　roll　of　bills。　Speedy's　guitar…pick　and　Captain　Farren's　coin　nested　at　the　bottom　of　the　pocket；　along　with　a　handful　of　dimes　and　quarters。
　　On　Jack's　level；　sandwiched　between　a　Mr。　Chips　cookie　shop　and　a　liquor　store　advertising　NEW　LOW　PRICES　for　Hiram　Walker　bourbon　and　Inglenook　Chablis；　a　Fayva　shoe　store　drew　him　toward　its　long　table　of　running　shoes。　The　clerk　at　the　cash　register　leaned　forward　and　watched　Jack　pick　over　the　shoes；　clearly　suspicious　that　he　might　try　to　steal　something。　Jack　recognized　none　of　the　brands　on　the　table。　There　were　no　Nikes　or　Pumas　here…they　were　called　Speedster　or　Bullseye　or　Zooms；　and　the　laces　of　each　pair　were　tied　together。　These　were　sneakers；　not　true　running　shoes。　They　were　good　enough；　Jack　supposed。
　　He　bought　the　cheapest　pair　the　store　had　in　his　size；　blue　canvas　with　red　zigzag　stripes　down　the　sides。　No　brand　name　was　visible　anywhere　on　the　shoes。　They　seemed　indistinguishable　from　most　of　the　other　shoes　on　the　table。　At　the　register　he　counted　out　six　limp　one…dollar　bills　and　told　the　clerk　that　he　did　not　need　a　bag。
　　Jack　sat　on　one　of　the　benches　before　the　tall　fountain　and　toed　off　the　battered　Nikes　without　bothering　to　unlace　them。　When　he　slipped　on　the　new　sneakers；　his　feet　fairly　sighed　with　gratitude。　Jack　left　the　bench　and　dropped　his　old　shoes　in　a　tall　black　wastebasket　with　DON'T　BE　A　LITTERBUG　stencilled　on　it　in　white。　Beneath　that；　in　smaller　letters；　the　wastebasket　read　The　earth　is　our　only　home。
　　Jack　began　to　move　aimlessly　through　the　long　lower　arcade　of　the　mall；　searching　for　the　telephones。　At　the　popcorn　wagon　he　parted　with　fifty　cents　and　was　handed　a　quart…size　tub　of　fresh　popcorn　glistening　with　grease。　The　middle…aged　man　in　a　bowler　hat；　a　walrus　moustache；　and　sleeve　garters　who　sold　him　the　popcorn　told　him　that　the　pay　phones　were　around　a　corner　next　to　31　Flavors；　upstairs。　The　man　gestured　vaguely　toward　the　nearest　escalator。
　　Scooping　the　popcorn　into　his　mouth；　Jack　rode　up　behind　a　woman　in　her　twenties　and　an　older　woman　with　hips　so　wide　they　nearly　covered　the　entire　width　of　the　escalator；　both　of　them　in　pants　suits。
　　If　Jack　were　to　flip　inside　the　Buckeye　Mall…or　even　a　mile　or　two　from　it…would　the　walls　shake　and　the　ceiling　crumble　down；　dropping　bricks　and　beams　and　Muzak　speakers　and　light　fixtures　down　on　everybody　unlucky　enough　to　be　inside？　And　would　the　tenth…grade　princesses；　and　even　arrogant　Timmy；　and　most　of　the　others；　too；　wind　up　with　skull　fractures　and　severed　limbs　and　mangled　chests　and　。　。　。　for　a　second　just　before　he　reached　the　top　of　the　escalator　Jack　saw　giant　chunks　of　plaster　and　metal　girders　showering　down；　heard　the　terrible　cracking　of　the　mezzanine　floor；　the　screams；　too…inaudible；　they　were　still　printed　in　the　air。
　　Angola。　The　Rainbird　Towers。
　　Jack　felt　his　palms　begin　to　itch　and　sweat；　and　he　wiped　them　on　his　jeans。
　　THIRTY…ONE　FLAVORS；　gleamed　out　a　chilly　incandescent　white　light　to　his　left；　and　when　he　turned　that　way　he　saw　a　curving　hallway　on　its　other　side。　Shiny　brown　tiles　on　the　walls　and　floor；　as　soon　as　the　curve　of　the　hallway　took　him　out　of　sight　of　anyone　on　the　mezzanine　level；　Jack　saw　three　telephones；　which　were　indeed　under　transparent　plastic　bubbles。　Across　the　hall　from　the　telephones　were　doors　to　MEN　and　LADIES。
　　Beneath　the　middle　bubble；　Jack　dialed　0；　followed　by　the　area　code　and　the　number　for　the　Alhambra　Inn　and　Gardens。　'Billing？'　asked　the　operator；　and　Jack　said；　'This　is　a　collect　call　for　Mrs。　Sawyer　in　four…oh…seven　and　four…oh…eight。　From　Jack。'　
　　The　hotel　operator　answered；　and　Jack's　chest　tightened。　She　transferred　the　call　to　the　suite。　The　telephone　rang　once；　twice；　three　times。
　　Then　his　mother　said　'Jesus；　kid；　I'm　glad　to　hear　from　you！　This　absentee…mother　business　is　hard　on　an　old　girl　like　me。　I　kind　of　miss　you　when　you're　not　moping　around　and　telling　me　how　to　act　with　waiters。'
　　'You're　just　too　classy　for　most　waiters；　that's　all；'　Jack　said；　and　thought　that　he　might　begin　to　cry　with　relief。
　　'Are　you　all　right；　Jack？　Tell　me　the　truth。'
　　'I'm　fine；　sure；'　he　said。　'Yeah；　I'm　fine。　I　just　had　to　make　sure　that　you　。　。　。　you　know。'
　　The　phone　whispered　electronically；　a　skirl　of　static　that　sounded　like　sand　blowing　across　a　beach。
　　'I'm　okay；'　Lily　said。　'I'm　great。　I'm　not　any　worse；　anyhow；　if　that's　what　you're　worried　about。　I　suppose　I'd　like　to　know　where　you　are。'　
　　Jack　paused；　and　the　static　whispered　and　hissed　for　a　moment。　'I'm　in　Ohio　now。　Pretty　soon　I'm　going　to　be　able　to　see　Richard。'
　　'When　are　you　ing　home；　Jack…O？'
　　'I　can't　say。　I　wish　I　could。'
　　'You　can't　say。　I　swear；　kid；　if　your　father　hadn't　called　you　that　silly　name…and　if　you'd　asked　me　about　this　ten　minutes　earlier　or　ten　minutes　later　。　。　。　'　
　　A　rising　tide　of　static　took　her　voice；　and　Jack　remembered　how　she'd　looked　in　the　tea　shop；　haggard　and　feeble；　an　old　woman。　When　the　static　receded　he　asked；　'Are　you　having　any　trouble　with　Uncle　Morgan？　Is　he　bothering　you？'
　　'I　sent　your　Uncle　Morgan　away　from　here　with　a　flea　in　his　ear；'　she　said。
　　'He　was　there？　He　did　e？　Is　he　still　bothering　you？'
　　'I　got　rid　of　the　Stoat　about　two　days　after　you　left；　baby。　Don't　waste　time　worrying　about　him。'
　　'Did　he　say　where　he　was　going？'　Jack　asked　her；　but　as　soon　as　the　words　were　out　of　his　mouth　the　telephone　uttered　a　tortured　electronic　squeal　that　seemed　to　bore　right　into　his　head。　Jack　grimaced　and　jerked　the　receiver　away　from　his　ear。　The　awful　whining　noise　of　static　was　so　loud　that　anyone　stepping　into　the　corridor　would　have　heard　it。　'MOM！'　Jack　shouted；　putting　the　phone　as　close　to　his　head　as　he　dared。　The　squeal　of　static　increased；　as　if　a　radio　between　stations　had　been　turned　up　to　full　volume。
　　The　line　abruptly　fell　silent。　Jack　clamped　the　receiver　to　his　ear　and　heard　only　the　flat　black　silence　of　dead　air。　'Hey；'　he　said；　and　jiggled　the　hook。　The　flat　silence　in　the　phone　seemed　to　press　up　against　his　ear。
　　Just　as　abruptly；　and　as　if　his　jiggling　the　hook　had　caused　it；　the　dial　tone…an　oasis　of　sanity；　of　regularity；　now…resumed。　Jack　jammed　his　right　hand　in　his　pocket；　looking　for　another　coin。
　　He　was　holding　the　receiver；　awkwardly；　in　his　left　hand　as　he　dug　in　his　pocket；　he　froze　when　he　heard　the　dial　tone　suddenly　slot　off　into　outer　space。
　　Morgan　Sloat's　voice　spoke　to　him　as　clearly　as　if　good　old　Uncle　Morgan　were　standing　at　the　next　telephone。　'Get　your　ass　back　home；　Jack。'　Sloat's　voice　carved　the　air　like　a　scalpel。　'You　just　get　your　ass　back　home　before　we　have　to　take　you　back　ourselves。'
　　'Wait；'　Jack　said；　as　if　he　were　begging　for　time：　in　fact；　he　was　too　terrified　to　know　quite　what　he　was　saying。
　　'Can't　wait　any　longer；　little　pal。　You're　a　murderer　now。　That's　right；　isn't　it？　You're　a　murderer。　So　we're　not　able　to　give　you　any　more　chances。　You　just　get　your　can　back　to　that　resort　in　New　Hampshire。　Now。　Or　maybe　you'll　go　home　in　a　bag。'
　　
　　Jack　heard　the　click　of　the　receiver。　He　dropped　it。　The　telephone　Jack　had　used　shuddered　forward；　then　sagged　off　the　wall。　For　a　second　it　drooped　on　a　network　of　wires；　then　crashed　heavily　to　the　floor。
　　The　door　to　the　men's　room　banged　open　behind　Jack；　and　a　voice　yelled；　'Holy　SHIT！'　
　　Jack　turned　to　see　a　thin　crewcut　boy　of　about　twenty　staring　at　the　telephones。　He　was　wearing　a　white　apron　and　a　bow　tie：　a　clerk　at　one　of　the　shops。
　　'I　didn't　do　it；'　Jack　said。　'It　just　happened。'
　　'Holy　shit。'　The　crewcut　clerk　goggled　at　Jack　for　a　split…second；　jerked　as　if　to　run；　and　then　ran　his　hands　over　the　crown　of　his　head。
　　Jack　backed　away　down　the　hall。　When　he　was　halfway　down　the　escalator　he　finally　heard　the　clerk　yelling；　'Mr。　Olafson！　The　phone；　Mr。　Olafson！'　Jack　f