sk.thewastelands-第25节

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e；　swinging　back　and　forth　in　her　swivel　chair　and　playing　with　a　lock　of　her　hair。　The　silver…plated　bell　stood　on　the　desk　beside　her。　Jake　waited　until　she　swivelled　away　from　the　door　and　then　hurried　past。　Thirty　seconds　later　he　was　emerging　into　the　bright　sunshine　of　a　morning　in　late　May。
　　I've　gone　truant；　he　thought。　Even　his　distraction　did　not　keep　him　from　being　amazed　at　this　unexpected　development。　When　I　don't　e　back　from　the　bathroom　in　five　minutes　or　so；　Ms。　Avery　will　send　somebody　to　check　。　。　。　and　then　they'll　know。　They'll　all　know　that　I've　left　school；　gone　truant。
　　He　thought　of　the　folder　lying　on　his　desk。
　　They'll　read　it　and　they'll　think　I'm　crazy。　Fou。　Sure　they　will。　Of　course。　Because　I　am。
　　Then　another　voice　spoke。　It　was；　he　thought；　the　voice　of　the　man　with　the　bombardier's　eyes；　the　man　who　wore　the　two　big　guns　slung　low　on　his　hips。　The　voice　was　cold　。　。　。　but　not　without　fort。
　　No；　Jake；　Roland　said。　You're　not　crazy。　You're　lost　and　scared；　but　you're　not　crazy　and　need　fear　neither　your　shadow　in　the　morning　striding　behind　you　nor　your　shadow　at　evening　rising　to　meet　you。　Yow　have　to　find　your　way　back　home；　that's　all。
　　〃But　where　do　I　go？〃　Jake　whispered。　He　stood　on　the　sidewalk　of　Fifty…sixth　Street　between　Park　and　Madison；　watching　the　traffic　bolt　past。　A　city　bus　snored　by；　laying　a　thin　trail　of　acrid　blue　diesel　smoke。　〃Where　do　I　go？　Where's　the　fucking　door？〃
　　But　the　voice　of　the　gunslinger　had　fallen　silent。
　　Jake　turned　left；　in　the　direction　of　the　East　River；　and　began　to　walk　blindly　forward。　He　had　no　idea　where　he　was　going…no　idea　at　all。　He　could　only　hope　his　feet　would　carry　him　to　the　right　place　。　。　。　as　they　had　carried　him　to　the　wrong　one　not　long　ago。
　　　
　　　5
　　IT　HAD　HAPPENED　THREE　weeks　earlier。
　　One　could　not　say　It　all　began　three　weeks　earlier；　because　that　gave　the　impression　that　there　had　been　some　sort　of　progression；　and　that　wasn't　right。　There　had　been　a　progression　to　the　voices；　to　the　violence　with　which　each　insisted　on　its　own　particular　version　of　reality；　but　the　rest　of　it　had　happened　all　at　once。
　　He　left　home　at　eight　o'clock　to　walk　to　school…he　always　walked　when　the　weather　was　good；　and　the　weather　this　May　had　been　abso…lutely　fine。　His　father　had　left　for　the　Network；　his　mother　was　still　in　bed；　and　Mrs。　Greta　Shaw　was　in　the　kitchen；　drinking　coffee　and　reading　her　New　York　Post。
　　〃Goodbye；　Greta；〃　he　said。　〃I'm　going　to　school　now。〃
　　She　raised　a　hand　to　him　without　looking　up　from　the　paper。　〃Have　a　good　day；　Johnny。〃
　　All　according　to　routine。　Just　another　day　in　the　life。
　　And　so　it　had　been　for　the　next　fifteen　hundred　seconds。　Then　everything　had　changed　forever。
　　He　idled　along；　bookbag　in　one　hand；　lunch　sack　in　the　other；　looking　in　the　windows。　Seven　hundred　and　twenty　seconds　from　the　end　of　his　life　as　he　had　always　known　it；　he　paused　to　look　in　the　window　of　Brendio's；　where　mannequins　dressed　in　fur　coats　and　Edwardian　suits　stood　in　stiff　poses　of　conversation。　He　was　thinking　only　of　going　bowling　that　afternoon　after　school。　His　average　was　158；　great　for　a　kid　who　was　only　eleven。　His　ambition　was　to　some　day　be　a　bowler　on　the　pro　tour　（and　if　his　father　had　known　this　little　factoid；　he　also　would　have　hit　the　roof）。
　　Closing　in　now…closing　in　on　the　moment　when　his　sanity　would　be　suddenly　eclipsed。
　　He　crossed　Thirty…ninth　and　there　were　four　hundred　seconds　left。　Had　to　wait　for　the　WALK　light　at　Forty…first　and　there　were　two　hundred　and　seventy。　Paused　to　look　in　the　novelty　shop　on　the　corner　of　Fifth　and　Forty…second　and　there　were　a　hundred　and　ninety。　And　now；　with　just　over　three　minutes　left　in　his　ordinary　life；　Jake　Cham…bers　walked　beneath　the　unseen　umbrella　of　that　force　which　Roland　called　ka…tet。
　　An　odd；　uneasy　feeling　began　to　creep　over　him。　At　first　he　thought　it　was　a　feeling　of　being　watched；　and　then　he　realized　it　wasn't　that　at　all　。。。　or　not　precisely　that。　He　felt　that　he　had　been　here　before；　that　he　was　reliving　a　dream　he　had　mostly　forgotten。　He　waited　for　the　feeling　to　pass；　but　it　didn't。　It　grew　stronger；　and　now　began　to　mix　with　a　sensation　he　reluctantly　recognized　as　terror。
　　Up　ahead；　on　the　near　corner　of　Fifth　and　Forty…third；　a　black　man　in　a　Panama　hat　was　setting　up　a　pretzel…and…soda　cart。
　　He's　the　one　that　yells　〃Oh　my　God；　he's　kilt！〃　Jake　thought。
　　Approaching　the　far　corner　was　a　fat　lady　with　a　Bloomingdale's　bag　in　her　hand。
　　She'll　drop　the　bag。　Drop　the　bag　and　put　her　hands　to　her　mouth　and　scream。　The　bag　will　split　open。　There's　a　doll　inside　the　bag。　It's　wrapped　in　a　red　towel。　I'll　see　this　from　the　street。　From　where　I'll　be　lying　in　the　street　with　my　blood　soaking　into　my　pants　and　spreading　around　me　in　a　pool。
　　Behind　the　fat　woman　was　a　tall　man　in　a　gray　nailhead　worsted　suit。　He　was　carrying　a　briefcase。
　　He's　the　one　who　vomits　on　his　shoes。　He's　the　one　who　drops　his　briefcase　and　throws　up　on　his　shoes。　What's　happening　to　me？
　　Yet　his　feet　carried　him　numbly　forward　toward　the　intersection；　where　people　were　crossing　in　a　brisk；　steady　stream。　Somewhere　behind　him；　closing　in；　was　a　killer　priest。　He　knew　this；　just　as　he　knew　that　the　priest's　hands　would　in　a　moment　be　outstretched　to　push　。　。　。　but　he　could　not　look　around。　It　was　like　being　locked　in　a　nightmare　where　things　simply　had　to　take　their　course。
　　Fifty…three　seconds　left　now。　Ahead　of　him；　the　pretzel　vendor　was　opening　a　hatch　in　the　side　of　his　cart。
　　He's　going　to　take　out　a　bottle　of　Yoo…Hoo；　Jake　thought。　Not　a　can　but　a　bottle。　He'll　shake　it　up　and　drink　it　all　at　once。
　　The　pretzel　vendor　brought　out　a　bottle　of　Yoo…Hoo；　shook　it　vigor…ously；　and　spun　off　the　cap。
　　Forty　seconds　left。
　　Now　the　light　will　change。
　　White　WALK　went　out。　Red　DONT　WALK　began　to　flash　rapidly　on　and　off。　And　somewhere；　less　than　half　a　block　away；　a　big　blue　Cadillac　was　now　rolling　toward　the　intersection　of　Fifth　and　Forty…third。　Jake　knew　this；　just　as　he　knew　the　driver　was　a　fat　man　wearing　a　hat　almost　the　exact　same　blue　shade　as　his　car。
　　I'm　going　to　die！
　　He　wanted　to　scream　this　aloud　to　the　people　walking　heedlessly　all　around　him；　but　his　jaws　were　locked　shut。　His　feet　swept　him　serenely　onward　toward　the　intersection。　The　DONT　WALK　sign　stopped　flashing　and　shone　out　its　solid　red　warning。　The　pretzel　vendor　tossed　his　empty　Yoo…Hoo　bottle　into　the　wire　trash　basket　on　the　corner。　The　fat　lady　stood　on　the　corner　across　the　street　from　Jake；　holding　her　shopping　bag　by　the　handles。　The　man　in　the　nailhead　suit　was　directly　behind　her。　Now　there　were　eighteen　seconds　left。
　　Time　for　the　toy　truck　to　go　by；　Jake　thought。
　　Ahead　of　him　a　van　with　a　picture　of　a　happy　jumping…jack　and　the　words　TOOKER'S　WHOLESALE　TOYS　printed　on　the　side　swept　through　the　intersection；　jolting　up　and　down　in　the　potholes。　Behind　him；　Jake　knew；　the　man　in　the　black　robe　was　beginning　to　move　faster；　closing　the　gap；　now　reaching　out　with　his　long　hands。　Yet　he　could　not　look　around；　as　you　couldn't　look　around　in　dreams　when　something　awful　was　gaining　on　you。
　　Run！　And　if　you　can't　run；　sit　down　and　grab　hold　of　a　No　Parking　sign！　Don't　just　let　it　happen！
　　But　he　was　powerless　to　stop　it　from　happening。　Ahead；　on　the　edge　of　the　curb；　was　a　young　woman　in　a　white　sweater　and　a　black　skirt。　To　her　left　was　a　young　Chicano　guy　with　a　boombox。　A　Donna　Summer　disco　tune　was　just　ending。　The　next　song；　Jake　knew；　would　be　〃Dr。　Love；〃　by　Kiss。
　　They're　going　to　move　apart…
　　Even　as　the　thought　came；　the　woman　moved　a　step　to　her　right。　The　Chicano　guy　moved　a　step　to　his　left；　creating　a　gap　between　them。　Jake's　traitor　feet　swept　him　into　the　gap。　Nine　seconds　now。
　　Down　the　street；　bright　May　sunshine　twinkled　on　a　Cadillac　hood　ornament。　It　was；　Jake　knew；　a　1976　Sedan　de　Ville。　Six　seconds。　The　Caddy　was　speeding　up。　The　light　was　getting　ready　to　change　and　the　man　driving　the　de　Ville；　the　fat　man　in　the　blue　hat　with　the　feather　stuck　jauntily　in　the　brim；　meant　to　scat　through　the　intersection　before　it　could。　Three　seconds。　Behind　Jake；　the　man　in　black　was　lunging　forward。　On　the　young　man's　boombox；　〃Love　to　Love　You；　Baby〃　ended　and　〃Dr。　Love〃　began。
　　Two。
　　The　Cadillac　changed　to　the　lane　nearest　Jake's　side　of　the　street　and　charged　down　on　the　intersection；　its　killer　grille　snarling。
　　One。
　　Jake's　breath　stopped　in　his　throat。
　　None。
　　〃Uh！〃　Jake　cried　as　the　hands　struck　him　firmly　in　the　back；　pushing　him；　pushing　him　into　the　street；　pushing　him　out　of　his　life…
　　Except　there　were　no　hands。
　　He　reeled　forward　nevertheless；　hands　flailing　at　the　air；　his　mouth　a　dark　O　of　dismay。　The　Chicano　guy　with　the　boombox　reached　out；　grabbed　Jake's　arm；　and　hauled　him　backward。　〃Look　out；　little　hero；〃　he　said。　〃That　traffic　turn　you　into　bratwurst。〃
　　The　Cadillac　floated　by。　Jake　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　fat　man　in　the　blue　hat　peering　out　through　the　windshield；　and　then　it　was　gone。
　　That　was　when　it　happened；　that　was　when　he　split　down　the　middle　and　became　two　boys。　One　lay　dying