sk.thewastelands-第50节

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　linoleum。　Its　door　gaped　open。　Black；　smelly　stuff　was　caked　inside　and　had　trickled　down　to　form　a　long…congealed　puddle　on　the　floor。　The　kitchen　cabinets　stood　open。　In　one　he　saw　what　was　probably　the　world's　oldest　can　of　Snow's　Clam　Fry…Ettes。　Poking　out　of　another　was　the　head　of　a　dead　rat。　Its　eyes　were　white　and　seemingly　in　motion；　and　after　a　moment　Jake　realized　that　the　empty　sockets　were　filled　with　squirming　maggots。
　　Something　fell　into　his　hair　with　a　flabby　thump。　Jake　screamed　in　surprise；　reached　for　it；　and　grasped　something　that　felt　like　a　soft；　bris…tle…covered　rubber　ball。　He　pulled　it　free　and　saw　it　was　a　spider；　its　bloated　body　the　color　of　a　fresh　bruise。　Its　eyes　regarded　him　with　stupid　malevolence。　Jake　threw　it　against　the　wall。　It　broke　open　and　splattered　there；　legs　twitching　feebly。
　　Another　one　dropped　onto　his　neck。　Jake　felt　a　sudden　painful　bite　just　below　the　place　where　his　hair　stopped。　He　ran　backward　into　the　hall；　tripped　over　the　fallen　banister；　fell　heavily；　and　felt　the　spider　pop。　Its　innards…wet；　feverish；　and　slippery…slid　between　his　shoulder…blades　like　warm　egg…yoke。　Now　he　could　see　other　spiders　in　the　kitchen　doorway。　Some　hung　on　almost　invisible　silken　threads　like　obscene　plumb…bobs；　others　simply　dropped　on　the　floor　in　a　series　of　muddy　plops　and　scuttered　eagerly　over　to　greet　him。
　　Jake　flailed　to　his　feet；　still　screaming。　He　felt　something　in　his　mind；　something　that　felt　like　a　frayed　rope；　starting　to　give　way。　He　supposed　it　was　his　sanity；　and　at　that　realization；　Jake's　considerable　courage　finally　broke。　He　could　bear　this　no　longer；　no　matter　what　the　stake。　He　bolted；　meaning　to　flee　if　he　still　could；　and　realized　too　late　that　he　had　turned　the　wrong　way　and　was　running　deeper　into　The　Mansion　instead　of　back　toward　the　porch。
　　He　lunged　into　a　space　too　big　to　be　a　parlor　or　living　room；　it　seemed　to　be　a　ballroom。　Elves　with　strange；　sly　smiles　on　their　faces　capered　on　the　wallpaper；　peering　at　Jake　from　beneath　peaked　green　caps。　A　mouldy　couch　was　pushed　against　one　wall。　In　the　center　of　the　warped　wooden　floor　was　a　splintered　chandelier；　its　rusty　chain　lying　in　snarls　among　the　spilled　glass　beads　and　dusty　teardrop　pendants。　Jake　skirted　the　wreck；　snatching　one　terrified　glance　back　over　his　shoulder。　He　saw　no　spiders；　if　not　for　the　nastiness　still　trickling　down　his　back；　he　might　have　believed　he　had　imagined　them。
　　He　looked　forward　again　and　came　to　a　sudden；　skidding　halt。　Ahead；　a　pair　of　French　doors　stood　half…open　on　their　recessed　tracks。　Another　hallway　stretched　beyond。　At　the　end　of　this　second　corridor　stood　a　closed　door　with　a　golden　knob。　Written　across　the　door…or　perhaps　carved　into　it…were　two　words：
　　THE　BOY
　　Below　the　doorknob　was　a　filigreed　silver　plate　and　a　keyhole。
　　I　found　it！　Jake　thought　fiercely。　I　finally　found　it！　That's　it！　That's　the　door！
　　From　behind　him　a　low　groaning　noise　began；　as　if　the　house　was　beginning　to　tear　itself　apart。　Jake　turned　and　looked　back　across　the　ballroom。　The　wall　on　the　far　side　of　the　room　had　begun　to　swell　outward；　pushing　the　ancient　couch　ahead　of　it。　The　old　wallpaper　shud…dered；　the　elves　began　to　ripple　and　dance。　In　places　the　paper　simply　snapped　upward　in　long　curls；　like　windowshades　which　have　been　released　too　suddenly。　The　plaster　bulged　forward　in　a　pregnant　curve。　From　beneath　it；　Jake　could　hear　dry　snapping　sounds　as　the　lathing　broke；　rearranging　itself　into　some　new；　as…yet…hidden　shape。　And　still　the　sound　increased。　Only　it　was　no　longer　precisely　a　groan；　now　it　sounded　like　a　snarl。
　　He　stared；　hypnotized；　unable　to　pull　his　eyes　away。
　　The　plaster　didn't　crack　and　then　vomit　outward　in　chunks；　it　seemed　to　have　bee　plastic；　and　as　the　wall　continued　to　bulge；　making　an　irregular　white　bubble…shape　from　which　scraps　and　draggles　of　wallpaper　still　hung；　the　surface　began　to　mold　itself　into　hills　and　curves　and　valleys。　Suddenly　Jake　realized　he　was　looking　at　a　huge　plastic　face　that　was　pushing　itself　out　of　the　wall。　It　was　like　looking　at　someone　who　has　walked　headfirst　into　a　wet　sheet。
　　There　was　a　loud　snap　as　a　chunk　of　broken　lath　tore　free　of　the　rippling　wall。　It　became　the　jagged　pupil　of　one　eye。　Below　it；　the　wall　writhed　into　a　snarling　mouth　filled　with　jagged　teeth。　Jake　could　see　fragments　of　wallpaper　clinging　to　its　lips　and　gums。
　　One　plaster　hand　tore　free　of　the　wall；　trailing　an　unravelling　brace…let　of　rotted　electrical　wire。　It　grasped　the　sofa　and　threw　it　aside；　leaving　ghostly　white　fingermarks　on　its　dark　surface。　More　lathing　burst　free　as　the　plaster　fingers　flexed。　They　created　sharp；　splintery　claws。　Now　the　face　was　all　the　way　out　of　the　wall　and　staring　at　Jake　with　its　one　wooden　eye。　Above　it；　in　the　center　of　its　forehead；　one　wallpaper　elf　still　danced。　It　looked　like　a　weird　tattoo。　There　was　a　wrenching　sound　as　the　thing　began　to　slide　forward。　The　hall　doorway　tore　out　and　became　a　hunched　shoulder。　The　thing's　one　free　hand　clawed　across　the　floor；　spraying　glass　droplets　from　the　fallen　chandelier。
　　Jake's　paralysis　broke。　He　turned；　lunged　through　the　French　doors；　and　pelted　down　the　second　length　of　hallway　with　his　pack　bouncing　and　his　right　hand　groping　for　the　key　in　his　pocket。　His　heart　was　a　runaway　factory　machine　in　his　chest。　Behind　him；　the　thing　which　was　crawling　out　of　The　Mansion's　woodwork　bellowed　at　him；　and　although　there　were　no　words；　Jake　knew　what　it　was　saying；　it　was　telling　him　to　stand　still；　telling　him　that　it　was　useless　to　run；　telling　him　there　was　no　escape。　The　whole　house　now　seemed　alive；　the　air　resounded　with　splintering　wood　and　squalling　beams。　The　humming；　insane　voice　of　the　doorkeeper　was　everywhere。
　　Jake's　hand　closed　on　the　key。　As　he　brought　it　out；　one　of　the　notches　caught　in　the　pocket。　His　fingers；　wet　with　sweat；　slipped。　The　key　fell　to　the　floor；　bounced；　dropped　through　a　crack　between　two　warped　boards；　and　disappeared。
　　
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　　〃HE'S　IN　TROUBLE！〃　SUSANNAH　heard　Eddie　shout；　but　the　sound　of　his　voice　was　distant。　She　had　plenty　of　trouble　herself　。　。　。　but　she　thought　she　might　be　doing　okay；　just　the　same。
　　I'm　goan　melt　that　icicle；　sugar；　she　had　told　the　demon。　I'm　goan　melt　it；　and　when　it's　gone；　what　you　goan　do　then？
　　She　hadn't　melted　it；　exactly；　but　she　had　changed　it。　The　thing　inside　her　was　certainly　giving　her　no　pleasure；　but　at　least　the　terrible　pain　had　subsided　and　it　was　no　longer　cold。　It　was　trapped；　unable　to　disengage。　Nor　was　she　holding　it　in　with　her　body；　exactly。　Roland　had　said　sex　was　its　weakness　as　well　as　its　weapon；　and　he　had　been　right；　as　usual。　It　had　taken　her；　but　she　had　also　taken　it；　and　now　it　was　as　if　each　of　them　had　a　finger　stuck　in　one　of　those　fiendish　Chinese　tubes；　where　yanking　only　sticks　you　tighter。
　　She　hung　onto　one　idea　for　dear　life；　had　to；　because　all　other　conscious　thought　had　vanished。　She　had　to　hold　this　sobbing；　frightened；　vicious　thing　in　the　snare　of　its　own　helpless　lust。　It　wriggled　and　thrust　and　convulsed　within　her；　screaming　to　be　let　go　at　the　same　time　it　used　her　body　with　greedy；　helpless　intensity；　but　she　would　not　let　it　go　free。
　　And　what's　gonna　happen　when　I　finally　do　let　go？　she　wondered　desperately。　What's　it　gonna　do　to　pay　me　back？
　　She　didn't　know。
　　
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　　THE　RAIN　WAS　FALLING　in　sheets；　threatening　to　turn　the　circle　within　the　stones　into　a　sea　of　mud。　〃Hold　something　over　the　door！〃　Eddie　shouted。　〃Don't　let　the　rain　wash　it　out！〃
　　Roland　snatched　a　glance　at　Susannah　and　saw　she　was　still　strug…gling　with　the　demon。　Her　eyes　were　half…shut；　her　mouth　pulled　down　in　a　harsh　grimace。　He　could　not　see　or　hear　the　demon；　but　he　could　sense　its　angry；　frightened　thrashings。
　　Eddie　turned　his　streaming　face　toward　him。　〃Did　you　hear　me？〃　he　shouted。　〃Get　something　over　the　goddam　door；　and　do　it　NOW！〃
　　Roland　yanked　one　of　their　hides　from　his　pack　and　held　a　corner　in　each　hand。　Then　he　stretched　his　arms　out　and　leaned　over　Eddie；　creating　a　makeshift　tent。　The　tip　of　Eddie's　homemade　pencil　was　caked　with　mud。　He　wiped　it　across　his　arm；　leaving　a　smear　the　color　of　bitter　chocolate；　then　wrapped　his　fist　around　the　stick　again　and　bent　over　his　drawing。　It　was　not　exactly　the　same　size　as　the　door　on　Jake's　side　of　the　barrier…the　ratio　was　perhaps　。75：1…but　it　would　be　big　enough　for　Jake　to　e　through　。　。　。　if　the　keys　worked。
　　If　he　even　has　a　key；　isn't　that　what　you　mean？　he　asked　himself。　Suppose　he's　dropped　it　。　。　。　or　that　house　made　him　drop　it？
　　He　drew　a　plate　under　the　circle　which　represented　the　doorknob；　hesitated；　and　then　squiggled　the　familiar　shape　of　a　keyhole　within　it。
　　He　hesitated。　There　was　one　more　thing；　but　what？　It　was　hard　to　think　of；　because　it　felt　as　if　there　were　a　tornado　roaring　through　his　head；　a　tornado　with　random　thoughts　flipping　around　inside　it　instead　of　uprooted　barns　and　privies　and　chicken…houses。
　　〃e　on；　sugah！〃　Susannah　cried　from　behind　him。　〃You　weakenin　on　me！　Wassa　matta？　I　thought　you　was　some　kind　of　hot…shit　studboy！〃
　　Boy。　That　was　it。
　　Carefully；　he　wrote　THE　BOY　a