sk.thewastelands-第4部分

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around　in　the　general　vicinity　of　the　upper　deck；　aliens　who　might　decide　to　e　down　from　their　UFOs　on　nuclear…powered　jet…skis　at　any　time　in　order　to　kidnap　little　kids　like　Eddie　Dean。　So　it　was　wrong　to　make　Henry　more　nervous　than　this　terrible　responsibility　had　already　made　him。　If　Eddie　was　doing　something　that　did　make　Henry　more　nervous；　Eddie　ought　to　cease　doing　that　thing　immediately。　It　was　a　way　of　paying　Henry　back　for　all　the　time　Henry　had　spent　Watching　Out　for　Eddie。　When　you　thought　about　it　that　way；　you　saw　that　doing　things　better　than　Henry　could　do　them　was　very　unfair。
　　Then　there　was　the　underneath　reason。　That　reason　（the　world　beneath　the　world；　one　might　say）　was　more　powerful；　because　it　could　never　be　stated：　Eddie　could　not　allow　himself　to　be　better　than　Henry　at　much　of　anything；　because　Henry　was；　for　the　most　part；　good　for　nothing　。　。　。　except　Watching　Out　for　Eddie；　of　course。
　　
　　Henry　taught　Eddie　how　to　play　basketball　in　the　playground　near　the　apartment　building　where　they　lived…this　was　in　a　cement　suburb　where　the　towers　of　Manhattan　stood　against　the　horizon　like　a　dream　and　the　welfare　check　was　king。　Eddie　was　eight　years　younger　than　Henry　and　much　smaller；　but　he　was　also　much　faster。　He　had　a　natural　feel　for　the　game；　once　he　got　on　the　cracked；　hilly　cement　of　the　court　with　the　ball　in　his　hands；　the　moves　seemed　to　sizzle　in　his　nerve…endings。　He　was　faster；　but　that　was　no　big　deal。　The　big　deal　was　this：　he　was　better　than　Henry。　If　he　hadn't　known　it　from　the　results　of　the　pick…up　games　in　which　they　sometimes　played；　he　would　have　known　it　from　Henry's　thunderous　looks　and　the　hard　punches　to　the　upper　arm　Henry　often　dealt　out　on　their　way　home　afterwards。　These　punches　were　supposedly　Henry's　little　jokes…〃Two　for　flinching！〃　Henry　would　cry　cheerily；　and　then　whap…whap！　Into　Eddie's　bicep　with　one　knuckle　extended…but　they　didn't　feel　like　jokes。　They　felt　like　warnings。　They　felt　like　Henry's　way　of　saying　You　better　not　fake　me　out　and　make　me　look　stupid　when　you　drive　for　the　basket；　bro；　you　better　remember　that　I'm　Watching　Out　for　You。
　　The　same　was　true　with　reading　。　。　。　baseball　。　。　。　Ring…a…Levio　。　。　。　math　。　。　。　even　jump…rope；　which　was　a　girl's　game。　That　he　was　better　at　these　things；　or　could　be　better；　was　a　secret　that　had　to　be　kept　at　all　costs。　Because　Eddie　was　the　younger　brother。　Because　Henry　was　Watching　Out　for　him。　But　the　most　important　part　of　the　underneath　reason　was　also　the　simplest：　these　things　had　to　be　kept　secret　because　Henry　was　Eddie's　big　brother；　and　Eddie　adored　him。
　　
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　　Two　DAYS　AGO；　WHILE　Susannah　was　skinning　out　a　rabbit　and　Roland　was　starting　supper；　Eddie　had　been　in　the　forest　just　south　of　camp。　He　had　seen　a　funny　spur　of　wood　jutting　out　of　a　fresh　stump。　A　weird；　feeling…he　supposed　it　was　the　one　people　called　deja　vu…swept　over　him；　and　he　found　himself　staring　fixedly　at　the　spur；　which　looked　like　a　badly　shaped　doorknob。　He　was　distantly　aware　that　his　mouth　had　gone　dry。
　　After　several　seconds；　he　realized　he　was　looking　at　the　spur　sticking　out　of　the　stump　but　thinking　about　the　courtyard　behind　the　building　where　he　and　Henry　had　lived…thinking　about　the　feel　of　the　warm　cement　under　his　ass　and　the　whopping　smells　of　garbage　from　the　dumpster　around　the　corner　in　the　alley。　In　this　memory　he　had　a　chunk　of　wood　in　his　left　hand　and　a　paring　knife　from　the　drawer　by　the　sink　in　his　right。　The　chunk　of　wood　jutting　from　the　stump　had　called　up　the　memory　of　that　brief　period　when　he　had　fallen　violently　in　love　with　wood…carving。　It　was　just　that　the　memory　was　buried　so　deep　he　hadn't　realized；　at　first；　what　it　was。
　　What　he　had　loved　most　about　carving　was　the　seeing　part；　which　happened　even　before　you　began。　Sometimes　you　saw　a　car　or　a　truck。　Sometimes　a　dog　or　cat。　Once；　he　remembered；　it　had　been　the　face　of　an　idol…one　of　the　spooky　Easter　Island　monoliths　he　had　seen　in　an　issue　of　National　Geographic　at　school。　That　had　turned　out　to　be　a　good　one。　The　game　was　to　find　out　how　much　of　that　thing　you　could　get　out　of　the　wood　without　breaking　it。　You　could　never　get　it　all；　but　if　you　were　very　careful；　you　could　sometimes　get　quite　a　lot。
　　There　was　something　inside　the　boss　on　the　side　of　the　stump。　He　thought　he　might　be　able　to　release　quite　a　lot　of　it　with　Roland's　knife…it　was　the　sharpest；　handiest　tool　he　had　ever　used。
　　Something　inside　the　wood；　waiting　patiently　for　someone…someone　like　him！…to　e　along　and　let　it　out。　To　set　it　free。
　　Oh　lookit　the　sissy！　Whatcha　makin　today；　sissy？　A　dollhouse？　A　pisspot　for　your　itty…bitty　teeny　peenie？　A　slingshot；　so　you　can　pretend　to　hunt　rabbits；　just　like　the　big　boys？　Awwww　。　。　。　ain't　that　CUTE？
　　He　felt　a　burst　of　shame；　a　sense　of　wrongness；　that　strong　sense　of　secrets　that　must　be　kept　at　any　cost；　and　then　he　remembered…again…that　Henry　Dean；　who　had　in　his　later　years　bee　the　great　sage　and　eminent　junkie；　was　dead。　This　realization　had　still　not　lost　its　power　to　surprise；　it　kept　hitting　him　in　different　ways；　sometimes　with　sorrow；　sometimes　with　guilt；　sometimes　with　anger。　On　this　day；　two　days　before　the　great　bear　came　charging　out　of　the　green　corridors　of　the　woods；　it　had　hit　him　in　the　most　surprising　way　of　all。　He　had　felt　relief；　and　a　soaring　joy。
　　He　was　free。
　　Eddie　had　borrowed　Roland's　knife。　He　used　it　to　cut　carefully　around　the　jutting　boss　of　wood；　then　brought　it　back　and　sat　beneath　a　tree　with　it；　turning　it　this　way　and　that。　He　was　not　looking　at　it；　he　was　looking　into　it。
　　Susannah　had　finished　with　her　rabbit。　The　meat　went　into　the　pot　over　the　fire；　the　skin　she　stretched　between　two　sticks；　tying　it　with　hanks　of　rawhide　from　Roland's　purse。　Later　on；　after　the　evening　meal；　Eddie　would　begin　scraping　it　clean。　She　used　her　hands　and　arms；　slipping　effortlessly　over　to　where　Eddie　was　sitting　with　his　back　propped　against　the　tall　old　pine。　At　the　campfire；　Roland　was　crumbling　some　arcane…and　no　doubt　delicious…woods…herb　into　the　pot。　〃What's　doing；　Eddie？〃
　　Eddie　had　found　himself　restraining　an　absurd　urge　to　hide　the　boss　of　wood　behind　his　back。　〃Nothing；〃　he　said。　〃Thought　I　might；　you　know；　curve　something。〃　He　paused；　then　added：　〃I'm　not　very　good；　though。〃　He　sounded　as　if　he　might　be　trying　to　reassure　her　of　this　fact。
　　She　had　looked　at　him；　puzzled。　For　a　moment　she　seemed　on　the　verge　of　saying　something；　then　simply　shrugged　and　left　him　alone。　She　had　no　idea　why　Eddie　seemed　ashamed　to　be　passing　a　little　time　in　whittling…her　father　had　done　it　all　the　time…but　if　it　was　something　that　needed　to　be　talked　about；　she　supposed　Eddie　would　get　to　it　in　his　own　time。
　　He　knew　the　guilty　feelings　were　stupid　and　pointless；　but　he　also　knew　he　felt　more　fortable　doing　this　work　when　Roland　and　Susan…nah　were　out　of　camp。　Old　habits；　it　seemed；　sometimes　died　hard。　Beating　heroin　was　child's　play　pared　to　beating　your　childhood。
　　When　they　were　away；　hunting　or　shooting　or　keeping　Roland's　peculiar　form　of　school；　Eddie　found　himself　able　to　turn　to　his　piece　of　wood　with　surprising　skill　and　increasing　pleasure。　The　shape　was　in　there；　all　right；　he　had　been　right　about　that。　It　was　a　simple　one；　and　Roland's　knife　was　setting　it　free　with　an　eerie　ease。　Eddie　thought　he　was　going　to　get　almost　all　of　it；　and　that　meant　the　slingshot　might　actually　turn　out　to　be　a　practical　weapon。　Not　much　pared　to　Roland's　big　revolvers；　maybe；　but　something　he　had　made　himself；　just　the　same。　His。　And　this　idea　pleased　him　very　much。
　　When　the　first　crows　rose　in　the　air；　cawing　affrightedly；　he　did　not　hear。　He　was　already　thinking…hoping…that　he　might　see　a　tree　with　a　bow　trapped　in　it　before　too　long。
　　
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　　HE　HEARD　THE　BEAR　approaching　before　Roland　and　Susannah　did；　but　not　much　before…he　was　lost　in　that　high　daze　of　concentration　which　acpanies　the　creative　impulse　at　its　sweetest　and　most　powerful。　He　had　suppressed　these　impulses　for　most　of　his　life；　and　now　this　one　held　him　wholly　in　its　grip。　Eddie　was　a　willing　prisoner。
　　He　was　pulled　from　his　daze　not　by　the　sound　of　falling　trees　but　by　the　rapid　thunder　of　a　。45　from　the　south。　He　looked　up；　smiling；　and　brushed　hair　from　his　forehead　with　a　sawdusty　hand。　In　that　moment；　sitting　with　his　back　against　a　tall　pine　in　the　clearing　which　had　bee　home；　his　face　crisscrossed　with　opposing　beams　of　green…gold　forest　light；　he　looked　handsome　indeed…a　young　man　with　unruly　dark　hair　which　constantly　tried　to　spill　across　his　high　forehead；　a　young　man　with　a　strong；　mobile　mouth　and　hazel　eyes。
　　For　a　moment　his　eyes　shifted　to　Roland's　other　gun；　hanging　by　its　belt　from　a　nearby　branch；　and　he　found　himself　wondering　how　long　it　had　been　since　Roland　had　gone　anywhere　without　at　least　one　of　his　fabulous　weapons　hanging　by　his　side。　That　question　led　to　two　others。
　　How　old　was　he；　this　man　who　had　plucked　Eddie　and　Susannah　from　their　world　and　their　whens？　And；　more　important；　what　was　wrong　with　him？
　　Susannah　had　promised　to　broach　that　subject　。。。　if　she　shot　well　and　didn't　get　Roland's　back　hair　up；　that　was。　Eddie　didn't　think　Roland　would　tell　her…not　at　first…but　it　was　time　to　let　old　long　tall　and　ugly　know　that　they　knew　something　was　wrong。
　　〃There'll　be　water　if　God　wills　it；〃　Eddie　said。　He　turned　back　to　his　carving　with　a　little　smile　playing　on　his　lips。　They　had　both　begun　to　pick　up　Roland's　little　sayings　。　。　。　and　he　theirs。　It　was　almost　as　if　they　were　halves　of　die　same…
　　Then　a　tree　fell　close　by　in　the　forest；　and　Eddie　was　on　his　feet　in　a　second；　the　half…carved　slingshot　in　one　hand；　Roland's　knife　in　the　other。　He　stared　across　the　clearing　in　the　direction　of　die　sound；　heart　thumping；　all　his　senses　finally　alert。　Something　was　ing。　Now　he　could　hear　it；　trampling　its　heedless　way　through　the　underbrush；　and　he　marvelled　bitterly　that　this　realization　had　e　so　late。　Far　back　in　his　mind；　a　small　voice　told　him　this　was　what　he　got。　This　was　what　he　got　for　doing　something　better　than　Henry；　for　making　Henry　nervous。
　　Another　tree　fell　with　a　ratcheting；　coughing　crash。　Looking　down　a　ragged　a