cb.booksofblood-第20节
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turned the television off。 As the silver…blue fluorescence died； and the insistent beat of the music was cut dead； he became aware； in the gloom； in the hush； of somebody at the door。
〃Who is it？〃
〃Slape； sir。〃
〃I told you to stay with Lacey。〃
〃He had to go； sir。〃
〃Go？〃
〃He ran off； sir。 I couldn't stop him。〃
〃Damn you。 What do you mean； you couldn't stop him？〃 Redman started to re…cross the room； catching his foot on a stool。 It scraped on the linoleum； a little protest。
Slape twitched。
〃I'm sorry； sir；〃 he said； 〃I couldn't catch him。 I've got a bad foot。〃 Yes； Slape did limp。 〃Which way did he go？〃 Slape shrugged。 〃Not sure； sir。〃
〃Well； remember。〃
〃No need to lose your temper； sir。〃 The 〃sir〃 was slurred： a parody of respect。 Redman found his hand itching to hit this pus…filled adolescent。 He was within a couple of feet of the door。 Slape didn't move aside。
〃Out of my way； Slape。〃
〃Really； sir； there's no way you can help him now。 He's gone。〃
〃I said； out of my way。〃 As he stepped forward to push Slape aside there was a click at navel…level and the bastard had a flick…knife pressed to Redman's belly。 The point bit the fat of his stomach。
〃There's really no need to go after him； sir。〃
〃What in God's name are you doing； Slape？〃
〃We're just playing a game；〃 he said through teeth gone grey。
〃There's no real harm in it。 Best leave well alone。〃 The point of the knife had drawn blood。 Warmly； it wended its way down into Redman's groin。 Slape was prepared to kill him； no doubt of that。 Whatever this game was； Slape was having a little fun all of his own。 Killing teacher； it was called。 The knife was still being pressed； infinitesimally slowly； through the wall of Redman's flesh。 The little rivulet of blood had thickened into a stream。
〃Kevin likes to e out and play once in a while；〃 said Slape。
〃Henessey？〃
〃Yes； you like to call us by our second names； don't you？ That's more manly isn't it？ That means we're not children； that means we're men。 Kevin isn't quite a man though； you see sir。 He's never wanted to be a man。 In fact； I think he hated the idea。 You know why？ （The knife divided muscle now； just gently）。 He thought once you were a man； you started to die： and Kevin used to say he'd never die。〃
〃Never die。〃
〃Never。〃
〃I want to meet him。〃
〃Everybody does； sir。 He's charismatic。 That's the Doctor's word for him： Charismatic。〃
〃I want to meet this charismatic fellow。〃
〃Soon。〃
〃Now。〃
〃I said soon。〃 Redman took the knife…hand at the wrist so quickly Slape had no chance to press the weapon home。 The adolescent's response was slow； doped perhaps； and Redman had the better of him。 The knife dropped from his hand as Redman's grip tightened； the other hand took Slape in a strangle…hold； easily rounding his emaciated neck。 Redman's palm pressed on his assailant's Adam's apple； making him gargle。
〃Where's Henessey？ You take me to him。〃 The eyes that looked down at Redman were slurred as his words； the irises pin…pricks。
〃Take me to him！〃 Redman demanded。
Slape's hand found Redman's cut belly； and his fist jabbed the wound。 Redman cursed； letting his hold slip； and Slape almost slid out of his grasp； but Redman drove his knee into the other's groin； fast and sharp。 Slape wanted to double up in agony； but the neck…hold prevented him。 The knee rose again； harder。 And again。 Again。
Spontaneous tears ran down Slape's face； coursing through the minefield of his boils。
〃I can hurt you twice as badly as you can hurt me；〃 Redman said； 〃so if you want to go on doing this all night I'm happy as a sand…boy。〃 Slape shook his head； grabbing his breath through his constricted windpipe in short； painful gasps。
〃You don't want any more？〃 Slape shook his head again。 Redman let go of him； and flung him across the corridor against the wall。 Whimpering with pain； his face crimped； he slid down the wall into a foetal position； hands between his legs。
〃Where's Lacey？〃 Slape had begun to shake； the words tumbled out。 〃Where d'you think？ Kevin's got him。〃
〃Where's Kevin？〃 Slape looked up at Redman； puzzled。
〃Don't you know？〃
〃I wouldn't ask if I did； would I？〃 Slape seemed to pitch forward as he spoke； letting out a sigh of pain。 Redman's first thought was that the youth was collapsing； but Slape had other ideas。 The knife was suddenly in his hand again； snatched from the floor； and Slape was driving it up towards Redman's groin。 He sidestepped the cut with a hair's breadth to spare； and Slape was on his feet again； the pain forgotten。 The knife slit the air back and forth； Slape hissing his intention through his teeth。
〃Kill you； pig。 Kill you； pig。〃 Then his mouth was wide and he was yelling： 〃Kevin！ Kevin！ Help me！〃 The slashes were less and less accurate as Slape lost control of himself； tears； snot and sweat sliming his face as he stumbled towards his intended victim。
Redman chose his moment； and delivered a crippling blow to Slape's knee； the weak leg； he guessed。 He guessed correctly。
Slape screamed； and staggered back； reeling round and hitting the wall face on。 Redman followed through； pressing Slape's back。 Too late； he realized what he'd done。 Slape's body relaxed as his knife hand； crushed between wall and body； slid out； bloody and weapon less。 Slape exhaled death…air； and collapsed heavily against the wall； driving the knife still deeper into his own gut。 He was dead before he touched the ground。
Redman turned him over。 He'd never bee used to the suddenness of death。 To be gone so quickly； like the image on the television screen。 Switched off and blank。 No message。
The utter silence of the corridors became overwhelming as he walked back towards the vestibule。 The cut on his stomach was not significant； and the blood had made its own scabby bandage of his shirt； knitting cotton to flesh and sealing the wound。 It scarcely hurt at all。 But the cut was the least of his problems： he had mysteries to unravel now； and he felt unable to face them。 The used； exhausted atmosphere of the place made him feel； in his turn； used and exhausted。 There was no health to be had here； no goodness； no reason。
He believed； suddenly； in ghosts。
In the vestibule there was a light burning； a bare bulb suspended over the dead space。 By it； he read Lacey's crumpled letter。 The smudged words on the paper were like matches set to the tinder of his panic。
Mama； They fed me to the pig。 Don't believe them if they said I never loved you； or if they said I ran away。 I never did。 They fed me to the pig。 I love you。
Tommy。
He pocketed the letter and began to run out of the building and across the field。 It was well dark now： a deep； starless dark； and the air was muggy。 Even in daylight he wasn't sure of the route to the farm； it was worse by night。 He was very soon lost； somewhere between the playing…field and the trees。 It was too far to see the outline of the main building behind him； and the trees ahead all looked alike。
The night…air was foul； no wind to freshen tired limbs。 It was as still outside as inside； as though the whole world had bee an interior： a suffocating room bounded by a painted ceiling of cloud。
He stood in the dark； the blood thumping in his head； and tried to orient himself。
To his left； where he had guessed the out…houses to be； a light glimmered。 Clearly he was pletely mistaken about his position。 The light was at the sty。 It threw the ramshackle chicken run into silhouette as he stared at it。
There were figures there； several； standing as if watching a spectacle he couldn't yet see。
He started towards the sty； not knowing what he would do once he reached it。 If they were all armed like Slape； and shared his murderous intentions； then that would be the end of him。 The thought didn't worry him。 Somehow tonight to get off of this closed…down world was an attractive option。 Down and out。
And there was Lacey。 There'd been a moment of doubt； after speaking to Leverthal； when he'd wondered why he cared so much about the boy。 That accusation of special pleading； it had a certain truth to it。 Was there something in him that wanted Thomas Lacey naked beside him？ Wasn't that the sub…text of Leverthal's remark？ Even now； running uncertainly towards the lights； all he could think of was the boy's eyes； huge and demanding； looking deep into his。
Ahead there were figures in the night； wandering away from the farm。 He could see them against the lights of the sty。 Was it all over already？ He made a long curve around to the left of the buildings to avoid the spectators as they left the scene。 They made no noise： there was no chatter or laughter amongst them。 Like a congregation leaving a funeral they walked evenly in the dark； each apart from the other； heads bowed。 It was eerie； to see these godless delinquents so subdued by reverence。
He reached the chicken…run without encountering any of them face to face。
There were still a few figures lingering around the pig…house。 The wall of the sow's partment was lined with candles； dozens and dozens of them。 They burned steadily in the still air；
