dk.coldfire-第63节

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　Jim　was　turned　away　from　her；　lying　on　his　side。　His　knees　were　drawn　up　slightly　in　a　modified　fetal　position。　He　was　still　sound　asleep。　
　When　she　could　get　her　breath；　she　sat　up。　She　was　not　merely　shaking；　she　was　rattling。　She　was　convinced　she　could　hear　her　bones　clattering　against　one　another。　
　She　was　glad　that　she　had　not　eaten　anything　after　the　doughnuts　last　evening。　They　had　passed　through　her　stomach　hours　ago。　If　she　had　eaten　anything　else；　she'd　be　wearing　it　now。　
　She　hunched　forward　and　put　her　face　in　her　hands。　She　sat　like　that　until　the　rattling　quieted　to　a　shudder　and　the　shudder　faded　to　spasms　of　shivering。　
　When　she　raised　her　face　from　her　hands；　the　first　thing　she　noticed　was　daylight　at　the　narrow　windows　of　the　high　room。　It　was　opalescent　graypink；　a　weak　glow　rather　than　a　sunny…blue　glare；　but　daylight　nonetheless。　
　Seeing　it；　she　realized　that　she　had　not　been　convinced　she　would　ever　see　daylight　again。　
　She　looked　at　her　wristwatch。　6：10。　Dawn　must　have　broken　only　a　short　while　ago。　She　could　have　been　asleep　only　two　to　two　and　a　half　hours。　
　It　had　been　worse　than　no　sleep　at　all；　she　did　not　feel　in　the　least　rested。　
　The　dream。　She　suspected　that　The　Friend　had　used　its　telepathic　power　to　push　her　down　into　sleep　against　her　will。　And　because　of　the　unusually　intense　nature　of　the　nightmare；　she　was　convinced　it　had　sent　her　that　gruesome　reel　of　mind…film。　
　But　why？　Jim　murmured　and　stirred；　then　grew　still　again；　breathing　deeply　but　quietly。　His　dream　must　not　be　the　same　one　she'd　had；　if　it　was；　he　would　be　writhing　and　crying　out　like　a　man　on　the　rack。　
　She　sat　for　a　while；　considering　the　dream；　wondering　if　she　had　been　shown　a　prophetic　vision。　Was　The　Friend　warning　her　that　she　was　going　to　wind　up　in　a　Dixie　Duck　Burger　Palace　scrambling　for　her　life　through　food　and　blood；　stalked　by　a　raving　maniac　with　an　automatic　carbine？　She　had　never　even　heard　of　Dixie　Duck；　and　she　couldn't　imagine　a　more　ludicrous　place　to　die。　
　She　was　living　in　a　society　where　the　streets　were　crawling　with　casualties　of　the　drug　wars；　some　of　them　so　brain…blasted　that　they　might　well　pick　up　a　gun　and　go　looking　for　the　rat　people　who　were　working　with　the　CIA；　running　spy　networks　out　of　burger　restaurants。　
　She　had　worked　on　newspapers　all　her　adult　life。　She　had　seen　stories　no　less　tragic；　no　more　strange。　
　After　about　fifteen　minutes；　she　couldn't　bear　to　think　about　the　nightù　mare　any　more；　not　for　a　while。　Instead　of　getting　a　handle　on　it　through　analysis；　she　became　more　confused　and　distressed　the　longer　she　dwelt　on　it。　In　memory；　the　images　of　slaughter　did　not　fade；　as　was　usually　the　case　with　a　dream；　but　became　more　vivid。　She　didn't　need　to　puzzle　it　out　right　now。　
　Jim　was　sleeping；　and　she　considered　waking　him。　But　he　needed　his　rest　as　much　as　she　did。　There　was　no　sign　of　The　Enemy　making　use　of　a　dream　doorway；　no　change　in　the　limestone　walls　or　the　oak…plank　floor；　so　she　let　Jim　sleep。　
　As　she　had　looked　around　the　room；　studying　the　walls；　she　had　noticed　the　yellow　tablet　lying　on　the　floor　under　the　far　window。　She　had　pitched　it　aside　last　evening　when　The　Friend　had　resisted　vocalizing　its　answers　and　had　tried；　instead；　to　present　her　with　responses　to　all　her　written　questions　at　once；　before　she　was　able　to　read　them　aloud。　
　She'd　never　had　a　chance　to　ask　it　all　of　the　questions　on　her　list；　and　now　she　wondered　what　might　be　on　that　answer…tablet。　
　She　eased　off　her　bedding　as　quietly　as　possible；　rose；　and　walked　carefully　across　the　room。　She　tested　the　floorboards　as　she　went　to　make　sure　they　weren't　going　to　squeak　when　she　put　her　full　weight　on　them。　
　As　she　stooped　to　pick　up　the　tablet；　she　heard　a　sound　that　froze　her。　
　Like　a　heartbeat　with　an　extra　thump　in　it。　
　She　looked　around　at　the　walls；　up　at　the　dome。　The　light　from　the　highburning　lantern　and　the　windows　was　sufficient　to　be　certain　that　the　limestone　was　only　limestone；　the　wood　only　wood。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　It　was　faint；　as　if　someone　was　tapping　the　rhythm　out　on　a　drum　far　away；　outside　the　mill；　somewhere　up　in　the　dry　brown　hills。　
　But　she　knew　what　it　was。　No　drum。　It　was　the　tripartite　beat　that　always　preceded　the　materialization　of　The　Enemy。　Just　as　the　bells　had；　until　its　final　visit；　preceded　the　arrival　of　The　Friend。　
　As　she　listened；　it　faded　away。　
　She　strained　to　hear　it。　
　Gone。　
　Relieved　but　still　trembling；　she　picked　up　the　tablet。　The　pages　were　rumpled；　and　they　made　some　noise　falling　into　place。　
　Jim's　steady　breathing　continued　to　echo　softly　around　the　room；　with　no　change　of　rhythm　or　pitch。　
　Holly　read　the　answers　on　the　first　page；　then　the　second。　She　saw　that　they　were　the　same　responses　The　Friend　had　vocalized…although　without　the　spur…of　the…moment　questions　that　she　had　not　written　down　on　the　question…tablet。　She　skimmed　down　the　third　and　fourth　pages；　on　which　it　had　listed　the　people　Jim　had　saved…Carmen　Diaz；　Amanda　Cutter；　Steven　Aimes；　Laura　Lenaskian…explaining　what　great　things　each　of　them　was　destined　to　achieve。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　She　snapped　her　head　up。　
　The　sound　was　still　distant；　no　louder　than　before。　
　Jim　groaned　in　his　sleep。　
　Holly　took　a　step　away　from　the　window；　intending　to　wake　him；　but　the　dreaded　sound　faded　away　again。　Evidently　The　Enemy　was　in　the　neighborhood；　but　it　had　not　found　a　doorway　in　Jim's　dream。　He　had　to　get　his　sleep；　he　couldn't　function　without　it。　She　decided　to　let　him　alone。　
　Easing　back　to　the　window　again；　Holly　held　the　answer…tablet　up　to　the　light。　She　turned　to　the　fifth　page…and　felt　the　flesh　on　the　nape　of　her　neck　go　as　cold　and　nubbly　as　frozen　turkey　skin。　
　Peeling　the　pages　back　with　great　delicacy；　so　as　not　to　rustle　them　more　than　absolutely　necessary；　she　checked　the　sixth　page；　the　seventh；　the　eighth。　They　were　all　the　same。　Messages　were　printed　on　them　in　the　wavery　hand　that　The　Friend　had　used　when　pulling　its　little　words…risingas…if…through…water　trick。　But　they　were　not　answers　to　her　questions。　
　They　were　two　alternating　statements；　unpunctuated；　each　repeated　three　times　per　page：　HE　LOVES　YOU　HOLLY　HE　WILL　KILL　YOU　HOLLY　HE　LOVES　YOU　HOLLY　HE　WILL　KILL　YOU　HOLLY　HE　LOVES　YOU　HOLLY　HE　WILL　KILL　YOU　HOLLY　Staring　at　those　obsessively　repeated　statements；　she　knew　that　〃he〃　could　be　no　one　but　Jim。　She　focused　only　on　the　five　hateful　words；　trying　to　understand。　
　And　suddenly　she　thought　that　she　did。　The　Friend　was　warning　her　that　in　its　madness　it　would　act　against　her；　perhaps　because　it　hated　her　for　bringing　Jim　to　the　mill；　for　making　him　seek　answers；　and　for　being　a　distraction　from　his　mission。　If　The　Friend；　which　was　the　sane　half　of　the　alien　consciousness；　could　reach　into　Jim's　mind　and　pel　him　to　undertake　life…saving　missions；　was　it　possible　that　The　Enemy；　the　dark　half；　could　reach　into　his　mind　and　pel　him　to　kill？　Instead　of　the　insane　personality　materializing　in　monstrous　form　as　it　had　done　for　an　instant　at　the　motel　Friday　night　and　as　it　attempted　to　do　in　Jim's　bedroom　yesterday；　might　it　choose　to　use　Jim　against　her；　take　mand　of　him　to　a　greater　extent　than　The　Friend　had　ever　done；　and　turn　him　into　a　killing　machine？　That　might　perversely　delight　the　mad…child　aspect　of　the　entity。　
　She　shook　herself　as　if　casting　off　a　pestering　wasp。　
　No。　It　was　impossible。　All　right；　Jim　could　kill　in　the　defense　of　innocent　people。　But　he　was　incapable　of　killing　someone　innocent。　No　alien　consciousness；　no　matter　how　powerful；　could　override　his　true　nature。　In　his　heart　he　was　good　and　kind　and　caring。　
　His　love　for　her　could　not　be　subverted　by　this　alien　force；　no　matter　how　strong　it　was。　
　But　how　did　she　know　that？　She　was　engaging　in　wishful　thinking。　
　For　all　she　knew；　The　Enemy's　powers　of　mental　control　were　so　awesome　that　it　could　reach　into　her　brain　right　now　and　tell　her　to　drown　herself　in　the　pond；　and　she　would　do　as　told。　
　She　remembered　Norman　Rink。　The　Atlanta　convenience　store。　Jim　had　pumped　eight　rounds　from　a　shotgun　into　the　guy；　blasting　at　him　again　and　again；　long　after　he　was　dead。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　Still　far　away。　
　Jim　groaned　softly。　
　She　moved　away　from　the　window　again；　intent　on　waking　him；　and　almost　called　out　his　name；　before　she　realized　that　The　Enemy　might　be　in　him　already。　Dreams　are　doorways。　She　didn't　have　a　clue　as　to　what　The　Friend　meant　by　that；　or　if　it　was　anything　more　than　stage　dressing　like　the　bells。　But　maybe　what　it　had　meant　was　that　The　Enemy　could　enter　the　dreamer's　dream　and　thus　the　dreamer's　mind。　Maybe　this　time　The　Enemy　did　not　intend　to　materialize　from　the　wall　but　from　Jim；　in　the　person　of　Jim；　in　total　control　of　Jim；　just　for　a　murderous　little　lark。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　！ub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　A　little　louder；　a　little　closer？　Holly　felt　that　she　was　losing　her　mind。　Paranoid；　schizoid；　flat…out　crazy。　No　better　than　The　Friend　and　his　other　half　She　was　frantically　trying　to　understand　a　totally　alien　consciousness；　and　the　more　she　pondered　the　possibilities；　the　stranger　and　more