dk.intensity-第24节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　She　hoped　to　spot　a　sign　for　a　highway　patrol　depot；　where　she　could　seek　help；　but　none　appeared。　The　nearest　town　of　appreciable　size；　where　she　might　be　fortunate　enough　to　find　a　police　station　or　a　cruising　squad　car；　was　Eureka；　which　was　hardly　a　metropolis。　And　even　Eureka　was　at　least　an　hour　away。
　As　a　child；　flat　under　beds　and　curled　in　the　backs　of　closets；　perched　on　rooftops　and　balanced　in　the　upper　reaches　of　trees；　in　winter　barns　and　on　warm　night　beaches；　she　had　hidden　and　waited　out　the　passions　and　the　rages　of　adults；　always　with　dread　but　also　with　patience　and　with　a　Zen…like　disconnection　from　the　realities　of　time。　Now　impatience　plagued　her　as　never　before。　She　wanted　to　see　this　man　caught；　manacled；　harried　to　justice；　hurt。　Desperately　she　wanted　this　and　without　a　single　additional　minute　of　delay；　hefore　he　could　kill　again。　Her　own　survival　wasn't　currently　at　stake　but　that　of　a　teenage　girl　whom　she　had　never　met；　and　she　was　surprised…and　made　uneasy　to　discover　that　she　could　care　so　ferociously　about　a　stranger。
　Perhaps　she　had　always　possessed　that　capacity　and　simply　had　never　been　in　a　situation　that　required　recognition　of　it。　But　no。　That　was　self…deception。　Ten　years　ago；　she　would　never　have　followed　the　motor　home。　Nor　five　years　ago。　Nor　last　year。　Perhaps　not　even　yesterday。
　Something　had　profoundly　changed　her；　and　it　hadn't　been　the　brutality　that　she'd　seen　a　few　hours　earlier　at　the　Templeton　house。　Viscerally　she　was　aware　that　this　unsettling　metamorphosis　had　been　a　long　time　ing；　like　the　slow　alteration　in　a　river's　course…by　im…I　perceptible　fractions　of　a　degree；　day　after　day。　Then　suddenly　mere　survival　was　not　enough　for　her　any　longer；　the　final　palisade　of　soil　crumbled；　the　last　stone　shifted；　and　the　destination　of　the　river　changed。
　She　frightened　herself。　This　reckless　caring。　More　lightning；　more　ferocious　than　before；　revealed　redwood　trees　so　massive　that　they　reminded　her　of　cathedral　spires。　The　steepleshattering　light　was　followed　by　quakes　of　thunder　as　violent　as　any　shift　in　the　San　Andreas。　The　sky　fissured；　and　rain　fell。
　In　the　first　instant；　the　drops　were　fat　and　milky　white　in　the　headlights；　as　if　the　night　were　an　extinguished　chandelier　in　which　were　suspended　an　infinite　number　of　rock…crystal　pendants。　They　shattered　into　the　windshield；　against　the　hood；　across　the　blacktop。
　On　the　highway　ahead；　the　motor　home　began　to　disappear　into　the　downpour。
　In　seconds　the　drops　dwindled　drastically　in　size　even　as　they　increased　in　number。　They　became　silver　gray　in　the　headlamps；　and　fell　not　straight　down　as　before　but　at　an　angle　in　the　punishing　wind。
　Chyna　switched　the　windshield　wipers　to　their　highest　setting；　but　the　motor　home　continued　to　slip　rapidly　away　into　the　storm　as　visibility　declined。　The　killer　was　not　lowering　his　speed　in　respect　of　the　worsening　weather；　he　was　accelerating。
　Afraid　to　let　him　out　of　her　sight　for　as　much　as　a　second；　Chyna　closed　the　gap　between　them　to　about　two　hundred　feet。　She　was　worried　that　he　would　attach　the　correct　significance　to　her　maneuver　and　realize　that　somehow　she　was　onto　him。
　Southbound　traffic　had　been　sparse　to　begin　with；　but　now　it　declined　in　direct　proportion　to　the　power　of　the　escalating　storm；　as　though　most　motorists　had　been　washed　off　the　highway。
　No　headlights　appeared　in　the　rearview　mirror　either。　The　psychotic　in　the　motor　home　had　set　a　pace　that　no　one　but　Chyna　was　likely　to　match。
　She　felt　almost　as　alone　with　him　here　in　the　open　as　she　had　been　inside　his　abattoir　on　wheels。
　Then；　as　enough　time　passed　to　make　the　lonely　lanes　of　blacktop　and　the　dreary　cataracts　of　rain　less　threatening　than　monotonous；　the　killer　suddenly　surprised　her。　With　a　quick　touch　of　his　brakes；　without　bothering　to　use　a　turn　signal；　he　angled　to　the　right　onto　an　exit　lane。
　Chyna　fell　back　somewhat；　again　concerned　that　he　would　bee　suspicious；　seeing　her　take　the　same　exit。　Because　theirs　were　the　only　two　vehicles　in　sight；　she　could　not　be　inconspicuous。　But　she　had　no　choice　other　than　to　follow　him。
　By　the　time　she　reached　the　end　of　the　ramp；　the　motor　home　had　vanished　into　the　rain　and　thin　mist；　but　from　the　ramp　entrance；　she　had　seen　it　turn　left。　In　fact；　the　two…lane　road　led　only　west；　and　a　sign　indicated　that　she　was　already　within　the　boundaries　of　Humboldt　Redwood　State　Park。
　In　addition；　three　munities　lay　ahead：　Honeydew；　Petrolia；　and　Capetown。　She'd　never　heard　of　any　of　them；　and　she　was　sure　that　they　were　little　more　than　wide　places　in　the　road；　where　she　would　find　no　police。
　Leaning　forward　over　the　steering　wheel；　squinting　through　the　rain…smeared　windshield；　she　drove　into　the　park；　eager　to　catch　up　with　the　killer　again；　because　he　might　live　in　or　near　one　of　those　three　small　towns。　She　was　wise　to　let　him　out　of　sight　for　a　minute；　so　he　wouldn't　think　that　she　was　too　eager　to　stay　on　his　tail。　But　soon　she　would　need　to　reestablish　visual　contact　before　he　reached　the　far　side　of　the　park　and；　perhaps　thereafter；　turned　off　the　county　road　onto　a　driveway　or　a　private　lane。
　The　deeper　the　road　wound　among　the　heaven…reaching　trees；　the　less　forcefully　the　rain　beat　against　the　Honda。　The　storm　was　not　diminishing　at　all；　but　the　huge　ramparts　of　redwoods　sheltered　the　pavement　from　the　worst　of　the　deluge。
　On　this　narrower；　twisting　route；　it　wasn't　possible　to　maintain　the　pace　they　had　kept　on　Highway　ioi。　Furthermore；　the　killer　apparently　had　decided　that　he　no　longer　needed　to　make　good　time；　perhaps　because　he'd　put　what　seemed　a　safe　distance　between　himself　and　the　dead　men　at　the　service　station；　and　when　Chyna　caught　up　with　him　in　hardly　more　than　a　minute；　he　was　driving　under　the　posted　speed　limit。
　Now；　closer　than　she'd　been　before；　she　noticed　that　the　motor　home　didn't　have　license　plates。　California…and　some　other　states；　for　all　she　knew…didn't　issue　temporary　plates　for　a　newly　purchased　vehicle；　and　it　was　legal　to　drive　without　the　tags　until　they　came　in　the　mail　from　the　Department　of　Motor　Vehicles。　Or　perhaps　before　going　to　the　Templetons'　house；　the　killer　had　removed　his　plates　rather　than　risk　a　witness　with　a　good　memory。
　Easing　off　the　accelerator；　Chyna　glanced　at　the　speedometerand　spotted　a　red　warning　light。　The　fuel…gauge　needle　was　below　the　EMPTY　mark。
　She　had　no　idea　how　long　the　warning　light　had　been　burning；　because　she'd　been　concentrating　intently　on　the　motor　home　and　the　dangers　of　the　slick　pavement。　The　car　might　have　a　gallon　or　two　in　the　tank…or　even　now　be　running　on　its　last　pint。
　Trailing　the　killer　to　his　home　base　was　no　longer　an　option。
　The　meaning　of　redwoods　is　not　grandeur；　beauty；　peace；　or　the　timelessness　of　nature。　The　meaning　of　redwoods　is　power。
　As　he　drives；　Edgler　Vess　rolls　down　the　window　beside　him　and　draws　deep　breaths　of　the　cold　air；　which　is　rich　with　the　fragrance　of　redwoods；　which　is　a　scent　of　power。　This　power　flows　into　him　with　the　fragrance；　and　his　own　power　is　thus　enhanced。
　Redwoods　are　power　because　their　great　size　is　unmatched　by　any　other　trees；　because　they　are　ancient…many　of　these　very　specimens　dating　back　centuries　before　the　birth　ofjesus　Christ…because　their　extraordinary　bark；　as　thick　as　armor　and　high　in　tannin；　makes　them　all　but　impervious　to　insects；　disease；　and　fire。　They　are　power　because　they　endure　while　all　around　them　dies；　men　and　animals　pass　among　them　and　pass　forever　away；　birds　alight　in　their　high　branches　and　seem　freer　than　anything　rooted　in　rock　and　soil；　but　eventually；　in　a　sudden　quietness　of　the　heart；　the　birds　swoon　off　the　sturdy　limbs　and　thump　to　the　ground　or　plummet　from　the　sky；　and　the　trees　still　soar；　on　the　shadowed　floors　of　these　groves；　sun…shy　ferns　and　rhododendrons　flourish　season　after　season；　but　their　immortality　is　illusory；　for　they　too　die；　and　new　generations　of　their　species　rise　in　the　deposing　remains　of　the　old。　Christ　expired　on　a　cross　of　dogwood；　the　prince　of　peace　and　prophet　of　love；　but　in　the　span　of　His　life；　not　one　of　these　trees　had　been　brought　down　by　any　storm；　though　they　cared　not　about　peace　and　knew　nothing　of　love；　they　had　endured。　Busily　engaged　on　his　endless　harvests；　Death　casts　frenetic　shadows　among　the　indifferent　redwoods；　a　ceaseless　flickering　that　dances　across　their　massive　trunks　with　no　effect；　like　the　dark　equivalent　of　leaping　firelight　on　hearthstones。
　Power　is　living　while　others　inevitably　perish。　Power　is　cool　indifference　to　their　suffering。　Power　is　taking　nourishment　from　the　deaths　of　others；　just　as　the　mighty　redwoods　draw　sustenance　from　the　perpetual　deposition　of　what　once　lived；　but　lived　only　briefly；　around　them。　This　is　also　part　of　the　philosophy　of　Edgler　Foreman　Vess。
　Through　the　open　window；　he　breathes　in　the　scent　of　redwoods；　and　the　molecules　of　their　fragrance　adhere　to　the　surface　cells　of　his　lungs；　and　the　power　of　millennia　is　conveyed　therefrom　into　his　freshly　oxygenated　blood；　pumps　through　his　heart；　reaches　to　every　extremity　of　him；　filling　him　with　strength　and　energy。
　Power　is　God；　God　is　nature；　nature　is　power；　and　the　power　is　in　him。
　His