thunter.fearloathinglasvegas-第5节

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　traffic　I　could　see　people　talking　and　I　wanted　to　hear　what　they　were　saying。　All　of　them。　But　the　shotgun　mike　was　in　the　trunk　and　I　decided　to　leave　it　there。　Las　Vegas　is　not　the　kind　of　town　where　you　want　to　drive　down　Main　Street　aiming　a　black　bazooka…looking　instrument　at　people。Turn　up　the　radio。　Turn　up　the　tape　machine。　Look　into　the　sunset　up　ahead。　Roll　the　windows　down　for　a　better　taste　of　the　cool　desert　wind。　Ah　yes。　This　is　what　it's　all　about。　Total　control　now。　Tooling　along　the　main　drag　on　a　Saturday　night　in　Las　Vegas；　two　good　old　boys　in　a　fireapple…red　convertible。。。stoned；　ripped；　twisted。。。Good　People。
　　Great　God！　What　is　this　terrible　music？
　　〃The　Battle　Hymn　of　Lieutenant　Galley〃：
　　〃。。。as　we　go　marching　on　When　I　reach　my　final　campground；　in　that　land　beyond　the　sun；　and　the　Great　mander　asks　me。。。〃　（What　did　he　ask　you；　Rusty？）　〃Did　you　fight　or　did　you　run？〃　（and　what　did　you　tell　him；　Rusty？）　〃。。。We　responded　to　their　rifle　fire　with　everything　we　had。。。〃
　　
　　No！　I　can't　be　hearing　this！　It　must　be　the　drug。　I　glanced　over　at　my　attorney；　but　he　was　staring　up　at　the　sky；　and　I　could　see　that　his　brain　had　gone　off　to　that　campground　beyond　the　sun。　Thank　christ　he　can't　hear　this　music；　I　thought。　It　would　drive　him　into　a　racist　frenzy。
　　Mercifully；　the　song　ended。　But　my　mood　was　already　shattered。。。and　now　the　fiendish　cactus　juice　took　over；　plunging　me　into　a　sub…human　funk　as　we　suddenly　came　up　on　the　turnoff　to　the　Mint　Gun　Club。　〃One　mile；〃　the　sign　said。　But　even　a　mile　away　I　could　hear　the　crackling　scream　of　two…stroke　bike　engines　winding　out。。。and　then；　ing　closer；　I　heard　another　sound。
　　Shotguns！　No　mistaking　that　fiat　hollow　boom。
　　I　stopped　the　car。　What　the　hell　is　going　on　down　there？　I　rolled　up　all　the　windows　and　eased　down　the　gravel　road；　hunched　low　on　the　wheel。。。until　I　saw　about　a　dozen　figures　pointing　shotguns　into　the　air；　firing　at　regular　intervals。
　　Standing　on　a　slab　of　concrete　out　here　in　the　mesquite…desert；　this　scraggly　little　oasis　in　a　wasteland　north　of　Vegas　。　。　They　were　clustered；　with　their　shotguns；　about　fifty　yards　away　from　a　one…story　concrete/block…house；　half　…　shaded　by　ten　or　twelve　trees　and　surrounded　by　cop…cars；　bike…trailers　and　motorcycles。
　　Of　course。　The　Mint　Gun　Club！　These　lunatics　weren't　letting　anything　interfere　with　their　target　practice。　Here　were　about　a　hundred　bikers；　mechanics　and　assorted　motorsport　types　milling　around　in　the　pit　area；　signing　in　for　tomorrow's　race；　idly　sipping　beers　and　appraising　each　other's　machinery…and　right　in　the　middle　of　all　this；　oblivious　to　everything　but　the　clay　pigeons　flipping　out　of　the　traps　every　five　seconds　or　so；　the　shotgun　people　never　missed　a　beat。
　　Well；　why　not？　I　thought。　The　shooting　provided　a　certain　rhythm…sort　of　a　steady　bass…line…to　the　high…pitched　chaos　of　the　bike　scene。　I　parked　the　car　and　wandered　into　the　crowd；　leaving　my　attorney　in　his　a。
　　I　bought　a　beer　and　watched　the　bikes　checking　in。　Many　Husquavarnas；　high…tuned　Swedish　fireballs。。。also　Yamahas；　Kawasakis；　a　few　500　Triumphs；　Maicos；　&　there　a　CZ；　a　Pursang。。。all　very　fast；　super…light　dfrt　bikes。　No　Hogs　in　this　league；　not　even　a　Sportster。。。that　would　be　like　entering　our　Great　Red　Shark　in　the　dune　buggy　petition。
　　Maybe　I　should　do　that；　I　thought。　Sign　my　attorney　up　as　the　driver；　then　send　him　out　to　the　starting　line　with　a　head　full　of　ether　and　acid。　How　would　they　handle　it？Nobody　would　dare　go　out　on　the　track　with　a　person　that　crazy。　He　would　roll　on　the　first　turn；　and　take　out　four　or　five　dune　buggies…a　Kamikaze　trip。
　　〃What's　the　entry　fee？〃　I　asked　the　desk…man。
　　〃Two　fifty；〃　he　said。
　　〃What　if　I　told　you　I　had　a　Vincent　Black　Shadow？〃He　stared　up　at　me；　saying　nothing；　not　friendly。　I　noticed　he　was　wearing　a　。38　revolver　on　his　belt。　〃Forget　it；〃　I　said。　〃My　driver's　sick；　anyway。〃　His　eyes　narrowed。　〃Your　driver　ain't　the　only　one　sick　around　here；　buddy。〃
　　〃He　has　a　bone　in　his　throat；〃　I　said。
　　〃What？〃　The　man　was　getting　ugly；　but　suddenly　his　eyes　switched　away。　He　was　staring　at　something　else　My　attorney　no　longer　wearing　his　Danish　sunglasses；　no　longer　wearing　his　Acapulco　shirt。。。a　very　crazy　looking　；half…naked　and　breathing　heavily。
　　〃What's　the　trouble　here？〃　he　croaked。　〃This　man　is　my　client…Are　you　prepared　to　go　to　court？〃　grabbed　his　shoulder　and　gently　spun　him　around。　〃Never　〃　I　said。　〃It's　the　Black　Shadow…they　won't　accept　it。〃
　　〃Wait　a　minute！〃　he　shouted。　〃What　do　you　mean；　they　won't　accept　it？　Have　you　made　a　deal　with　these　pigs？〃
　　〃Certainly　not；〃　I　said；　pushing　him　along　toward　the　gate。　〃But　you　notice　they're　all　armed。　We're　the　only　people　here　without　guns。　Can't　you　hear　that　shooting　over　there？〃　He　paused；　listened　for　an　instant；　then　suddenly　began；running　toward　the　car。　〃You　cocksuckers！〃　he　screamed　over　his　shoulder。　〃We'll　be　back！〃　By　the　time　we　got　the　shark　back　on　the　highway　he　was　able　to　talk。　〃Jesus　christ！　How　did　we　get　mixed　up　with　that　gang　of　psychotic　bigots？　Let's　get　the　fuck　out　of　this　town。　Those　scumbags　were　trying　to　kill　us！
　　
　　　5vering　the　Story。。。A　Glimpse　of　the　Press　in　Action。。。Ugliness　&　Failure
　　
　　The　racers　were　ready　at　dawn。　Fine　sunrise　over　the　desert。　Very　tense。　But　the　race　didn't　start　until　nine；　so　we　had　to　kill　about　three　long　hours　in　the　casino　next　to　the　pits；　and　that's　where　the　trouble　started。
　　The　bar　opened　at　seven。　There　was　also　a　〃koffee　&　donut　canteen〃　in　the　bunker；　but　those　of　us　who　had　been　up　all　night　in　places　like　the　Circus…Circus　were　in　no　mood　for　coffee　&　donuts。　We　wanted　strong　drink。　Our　tempers　were　ugly　and　there　were　at　least　two　hundred　of　us；　so　they　opened　the　bar　early。　By　eight…thirty　there　were　big　crowds　around　the　crap…tables。　The　place　was　full　of　noise　and　drunken　shouting。
　　A　boney；　middle…aged　hoodlum　wearing　a　Harley…Davidson　T…shirt　boomed　up　to　the　bar　and　yelled：　〃God　damn！　What　day　is　this…Saturday？〃
　　〃More　like　Sunday；〃　somebody　replied。
　　〃Hah！　That's　a　bitch；　ain't　it？〃　the　H…D　boomer　shouted　to　nobody　in　particular。　〃Last　night　I　was　out　home　in　Long　and　somebody　said　they　were　runnin'　the　Mint　400　so　I　says　to　my　old　lady；　'Man；　I'm　goin'。〃　He　laughed。
　　〃So　she　gives　me　a　lot　of　crap　about　it；　you　know。。。so　I　started　slappin'　her　around　and　the　next　thing　I　knew　two　guys　I　never　even　seen　before　got　me　out　on　the　sidewalk　workin'　me　over。　Jesus！　They　beat　me　stupid。〃　He　laughed　again；　talking　into　the　crowd　and　not　seeming　listened。　〃Hell　yes！〃　he　continued。　〃Then　one　of　em　says；　'Where　you　going？'　And　I　says；　'Las　Vegas；　to　the　Mint　400。'　So　they　gave　me　ten　bucks　and　drove　me　down　to　the　bus　station。。。。〃　He　paused。　〃At　least　I　think　it　was　them。。。〃
　　〃Well；　anyway；　here　I　am。　And　I　tell　you　that　was　one　hell　of　a　long　night；　man！　Seven　hours　on　that　goddamn　bus！　But　when　I　woke　up　it　was　dawn　and　here　I　was　in　downtown　Vegas　and　for　a　minute　I　didn't　know　what　the　hell　I　was　doin'　here。　All　I　could　think　was；　'0　Jesus；　here　we　go　again：　Who's　divorced　me　this　time？'〃　He　accepted　a　cigarette　from　somebody　in　the　crowd；　still　grinning　as　he　lit　up。　〃But　then　I　remembered；　by　God！　I　was　here　for　the　Mint　400。。。and；　man；　that's　all　I　needed　to　know。　I　tell　you　it's　wonderful　to　be　here；　man。　I　don't　give　a　damn　who　wins　or　loses。　It's　just　wonderful　to　be　here　with　you　people。
　　Nobody　argued　with　him。　We　all　understood。　In　some　circles；　the　〃Mint　400〃　is　a　far；　far　better　thing　than　the　Super　Bowl；　the　Kentucky　Derby　and　the　Lower　Oakland　Roller　Derby　Finals　all　rolled　into　one。　This　race　attracts　a　very　special　breed；　and　our　man　in　the　Harley　T…shirt　was　clearly　one　of　them。
　　The　correspondent　from　Life　nodded　sympathetically　and　screamed　at　the　bartender：　〃Senzaman　wazzyneeds！〃
　　〃Fast　up　with　it；〃　I　croaked。　〃Why　not　five？〃　I　smacked　the　bar　with　my　open；　bleeding　palm。　〃Hell　yes！　Bring　us　ten！〃
　　〃I'll　back　it！〃　The　Life　man　screamed。　He　was　losing　his　grip　on　the　bar；　sinking　slowly　to　his　knees；　but　still　speaking　with　definite　authority：　〃This　is　a　magic　moment　in　sport！　It　may　never　e　again！〃　Then　his　voice　seemed　to　break。　〃I　once　did　the　Triple　Crown；〃　he　muttered。　〃But　it　was　nothing　like　this。〃　The　frog…eyed　woman　clawed　feverishly　at　his　belt。　〃Stand　up！〃　she　pleaded。　〃Please　stand　up！　You'd　be　a　very　handsome　man　if　you'd　just　stand　up！〃　He　laughed　distractedly。　〃Listen；　madam；〃　he　snapped。　〃I'm　damn　near　intolerably　handsome　down　here　where　I　am。　You'd　go　crazy　if　I　stood　up！〃　The　woman　kept　pulling　at　him。　She'd　been　mooning　at　his　elbows　for　two　hours；　and　now　she　was　making　her　move。　The　man　from　Life　wanted　no　part　of　it；　he　slumped　deeper　into　his　crouch。
　　I　turned　away。　It　was　too　horrible。　We　were；　after　all；　the　absolute　cream　of　the　national　sporting　press。　And　we　were　gathered　here　in　Las　Vegas　for　a　very　special　assignment：　to　cover　the　Fourth　Annual　〃Mint　400〃。。。and　when　it　es　to　things　like　this；　you　don't　fool　around。
　　But　now…even　before　the　spectacle　got　under　way…there　were　signs　that　we　might　be　losing　control　of　the　situation。　Here　we　were　on　this　fine　Nevada　mor