sk.thewastelands-第85部分

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　　〃Take　off　your　scarf；　Gasher；〃　the　Tick…Tock　Man　said。　〃I　want　a　look　inside　it。〃
　　Jake　sidled　a　step　closer　to　the　podium　with　the　burtons　on　it。
　　〃No！〃　Gasher's　hands　returned　to　the　scarf　and　pressed　against　it　as　if　it　might　fly　away　of　its　own　accord。　〃Be　damned　if　I　will！〃
　　〃Brandon；　grab　him；〃　Tick…Tock　said。
　　Brandon　lunged　for　Gasher。　Gasher's　move　wasn't　as　quick　as　Tick…Tock's　had　been；　but　it　was　quick　enough；　he　bent；　yanked　a　knife　from　the　top　of　his　boot；　and　buried　it　in　Brandon's　arm。
　　〃Oh；　you　barstard！〃　Brandon　shouted　in　surprise　and　pain　as　blood　began　to　pour　out　of　his　arm。
　　〃Lookit　what　you　did！〃　Tilly　screamed。
　　〃Do　I　have　to　do　everything　around　here　myself？〃　Tick…Tock　shouted；　more　exasperated　than　angry；　it　seemed；　and　rose　to　his　feet。　Gasher　retreated　from　him；　weaving　the　bloody　knife　back　and　forth　in　front　of　his　face　in　mystic　patterns。　He　kept　his　other　hand　planted　firmly　on　top　of　his　head。
　　〃Draw　back；〃　he　panted。　〃I　loves　you　like　a　brother；　Ticky；　but　if　you　don't　draw　back；　I'll　hide　this　blade　in　your　guts…so　I　will。〃
　　〃You？　Not　likely；〃　the　Tick…Tock　Man　said　with　a　laugh。　He　removed　his　own　knife　from　its　scabbard　and　held　it　delicately　by　the　bone　hilt。　All　eyes　were　on　the　two　of　them。　Jake　took　two　quick　steps　to　the　podium　with　its　little　cluster　of　buttons　and　reached　for　the　one　he　thought　the　Tick…Took　man　had　pushed。
　　Gasher　was　backing　along　the　curved　wall；　the　tubes　of　light　painting　his　mandrus…riddled　face　in　a　succession　of　sick　colors：　bile…green；　fever…red；　jaundice…yellow。　Now　it　was　the　Tick…Tock　Man　standing　below　the　ventilator　grille　where　Oy　was　watching。

　　〃Put　it　down；　Gasher；〃　Tick…Tock　said　in　a　reasonable　tone　of　voice。　〃You　brought　the　boy　as　I　asked；　if　anyone　else　gets　pricked　over　this；　it'll　be　Hoots；　not　you。　Just　show　me…〃
　　Jake　saw　Oy　crouching　to　spring　and　understood　two　things：　what　the　humbler　meant　to　do　and　who　had　put　him　up　to　it。
　　〃Oy；　no！〃　he　screamed。
　　All　of　them　turned　to　look　at　him。　At　that　moment　Oy　leaped；　hitting　the　flimsy　ventilator　grille　and　knocking　it　free。　The　Tick…Tock　Man　wheeled　toward　die　sound；　and　Oy　fell　onto　his　upturned　face；　biting　and　slashing。
　　
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　　ROLAND　HEARD　IT　FAINTLY　even　through　the　twin　doors…Oy；　no！…and　his　heart　sank。　He　waited　for　the　valve…wheel　to　turn；　but　it　did　not。　He　closed　his　eyes　and　sent　with　all　his　might：　The　door；　Jake！　Open　the　door！
　　He　sensed　no　response；　and　the　pictures　were　gone。　His　munica…tion　line　with　Jake；　flimsy　to　begin　with；　had　now　been　severed。
　　
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　　THE　TICK…TOCK　MAN　blundered　backward；　cursing　and　screaming　and　grabbing　at　the　writhing；　biting；　digging　thing　on　his　face。　He　felt　Oy's　claws　punch　into　his　left　eye；　popping　it；　and　a　horrible　red　pain　sank　into　his　head　like　a　flaming　torch　thrown　down　a　deep　well。　At　that　point；　rage　overwhelmed　pain。　He　seized　Oy；　tore　him　off　his　face；　and　held　him　over　his　head；　meaning　to　twist　him　like　a　rag。
　　〃No！〃　Jake　wailed。　He　forgot　about　the　button　which　unlocked　the　doors　and　seized　the　gun　hanging　from　the　back　of　the　chair。
　　Tilly　shrieked。　The　others　scattered。　Jake　levelled　the　old　German　machine…gun　at　the　Tick…Tock　Man。　Oy；　upside　down　in　those　huge；　strong　hands　and　bent　almost　to　the　snapping　point；　writhed　madly　and　slashed　his　teeth　into　the　air。　He　shrieked　in　agony…a　horribly　human　sound。
　　〃Leave　him　alone；　you　bastard！〃　Jake　screamed；　and　pressed　the　trigger。
　　He　had　enough　presence　of　mind　left　to　aim　low。　The　roar　of　the　Schmeisser　。40　was　ear…splitting　in　the　enclosed　space；　although　it　fired　only　five　or　six　rounds。　One　of　the　lighted　tubes　popped　in　a　burst　of　cold　orange　fire。　A　hole　appeared　an　inch　above　the　left　knee　of　the　Tick…Tock　Man's　tight…fitting　trousers；　and　a　dark　red　stain　began　to　spread　at　once。　Tick…Tock's　mouth　opened　in　a　shocked　O　of　surprise；　an　expression　which　said　more　clearly　than　words　could　have　done　that；　for　all　his　intelligence；　Tick…Tock　had　expected　to　live　a　long；　happy　life　where　he　shot　people　but　was　never　shot　himself。　Shot　at；　perhaps；　but　actually　hit？　That　surprised　expression　said　that　just　wasn't　supposed　to　be　in　the　cards。
　　Wele　to　the　real　world；　you　fuck；　Jake　thought。
　　Tick…Tock　dropped　Oy　to　the　iron　grillework　floor　to　grab　at　his　wounded　leg。　Copperhead　lunged　at　Jake；　got　an　arm　around　his　throat；　and　then　Oy　was　on　him；　barking　shrilly　and　chewing　at　Copperhead's　ankle　through　the　black　silk　pants。　Copperhead　screamed　and　danced　away；　shaking　Oy　back　and　forth　at　the　end　of　his　leg。　Oy　clung　like　a　limpet。　Jake　turned　to　see　the　Tick…Tock　Man　crawling　toward　him。　He　had　retrieved　his　knife　and　the　blade　was　now　clamped　between　his　teeth。
　　〃Goodbye；　Ticky；〃　Jake　said；　and　pressed　the　Schmeisser's　trigger　again。　Nothing　happened。　Jake　didn't　know　if　it　was　empty　or　jammed；　and　this　was　hardly　the　time　to　speculate。　He　took　two　steps　backward　before　finding　further　retreat　blocked　by　the　big　chair　which　had　served　the　Tick…Tock　Man　as　a　throne。　Before　he　could　slip　around；　putting　the　chair　between　them；　Tick…Tock　had　grabbed　his　ankle。　His　other　hand　went　to　the　hilt　of　his　knife。　The　ruins　of　his　left　eye　lay　on　his　cheek　like　a　glob　of　mint　jelly；　the　right　eye　glared　up　at　Jake　with　insane　hatred。
　　Jake　tried　to　pull　away　from　the　clutching　hand　and　went　sprawling　on　the　Tick…Tock　man's　throne。　His　eye　fell　on　a　pocket　which　had　been　sewn　into　the　right…hand　arm…rest。　Jutting　from　the　elasticized　top　was　the　cracked　pearl　handle　of　a　revolver。
　　〃Oh；　cully；　how　you'll　suffer！〃　the　Tick…Tock　Man　whispered　ecstati…cally。　The　O　of　surprise　had　been　replaced　by　a　wide；　trembling　grin。　〃Oh　how　you'll　suffer！　And　how　happy　I'll　be　to　。。。　What…？〃
　　The　grin　slackened　and　the　surprised　O　began　to　reappear　as　Jake　pointed　the　cheesy　nickel…plated　revolver　at　him　and　thumbed　back　the　hammer。　The　grip　on　Jake's　ankle　tightened　until　it　seemed　to　him　that　the　bones　there　must　snap。
　　〃You　dasn't！〃　Tick…Tock　said　in　a　screamy　whisper。
　　〃Yes　I　do；〃　Jake　said　grimly；　and　pulled　the　trigger　of　the　Tick…Tock　Man's　runout　gun。　There　was　a　Hat　crack；　much　less　dramatic　than　the　Schmeisser's　Teutonic　roar。　A　small　black　hole　appeared　high　up　on　the　right　side　of　Tick…Tock's　forehead。　The　Tick…Tock　Man　went　on　staring　up　at　Jake；　disbelief　in　his　remaining　eye。
　　Jake　tried　to　make　himself　shoot　him　again　and　couldn't　do　it。
　　Suddenly　a　flap　of　the　Tick…Tock　Man's　scalp　peeled　away　like　old　wallpaper　and　dropped　on　his　right　cheek。　Roland　would　have　known　what　this　meant；　Jake；　however；　was　now　almost　beyond　coherent　thought。　A　dark；　panicky　horror　was　spinning　across　his　mind　like　a　tornado　funnel。　He　cringed　back　in　the　big　chair　as　the　hand　on　his　ankle　fell　away　and　the　Tick…Tock　Man　collapsed　forward　on　his　face。
　　The　door。　He　had　to　open　the　door　and　let　the　gunslinger　in。
　　Focusing　on　that　and　nothing　but；　Jake　let　the　pearl…handled　revolver　clatter　to　the　iron　grating　and　pushed　himself　out　of　the　chair。　He　was　reaching　again　for　the　button　he　thought　he　had　seen　Tick…Tock　push　when　a　pair　of　hands　settled　around　his　throat　and　dragged　him　back…ward；　away　from　the　podium。
　　〃I　said　I'd　kill　you　for　it；　my　narsty　little　pal；〃　a　voice　whispered　in　his　ear；　〃and　the　Gasherman　always　keeps　his　promises。〃
　　Jake　flailed　behind　him　with　both　hands　and　found　nothing　but　thin　air。　Gasher's　fingers　sank　into　his　throat；　choking　relentlessly。　The　world　started　to　turn　gray　in　front　of　his　eyes。　Gray　quickly　deepened　to　purple；　and　purple　to　black。
　　
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　　A　PUMP　STARTED　UP；　and　the　valve…wheel　in　the　center　of　the　hatch　spun　rapidly。　Gods　be　thanked！　Roland　thought。　He　seized　the　wheel　with　his　right　hand　almost　before　it　had　stopped　moving　and　yanked　it　open。　The　other　door　was　ajar；　from　beyond　it　came　the　sounds　of　men　fighting　and　Oy's　bark；　now　shrill　with　pain　and　fury。
　　Roland　kicked　the　door　open　with　his　boot　and　saw　Gasher　throttling　Jake。　Oy　had　left　Copperhead　and　was　now　trying　to　make　Gasher　let　go　of　Jake；　but　Gasher's　boot　was　doing　double　duty：　protecting　its　owner　from　the　bumbler's　teeth；　and　protecting　Oy　from　the　virulent　infection　which　ran　in　Gasher's　blood。　Brandon　stabbed　Oy　in　the　flank　again　in　an　effort　to　make　him　stop　worrying　Gasher's　ankle；　but　Oy　paid　no　heed。　Jake　hung　from　his　captor's　dirty　hands　like　a　puppet　whose　strings　have　been　cut。　His　face　was　bluish…white；　his　swollen　lips　a　delicate　shade　of　lavender。
　　Gasher　looked　up。　〃You；〃　he　snarled。
　　〃Me；〃　Roland　agreed。　He　fired　once　and　tin；　left　side　of　Gasher's　head　disintegrated。　The　man　went　flying　backward；　bloodstained　yellow　scarf　unravelling；　and　landed　on　top　of　the　Tick…Tock　Man。　His　feet　drummed　spastically　on　the　iron　grillework　for　a　moment　and　then　fell　still。
　　The　gunslinger　shot　Brandon　twice；　fanning　the　hammer　of　his　revolver　with　the　flat　of　his　right　hand。　Brandon；　who　had　been　bent　over　Oy　for　another　stroke；　spun　around；　struck　the　wall；　and　slid　slowly　down　it；　clutching　at　one　of　the　tubes。　Green　swamplight　spilled　out　from　between　his　loosening　fingers。
　　Oy　limped　to　where　Jake　lay　and　began　licking　his　pale；　still　face。
　　Copperhead　and　Hoots　had　seen　enough。　They　ran　side　by　side　for　the　small　door　through　which　Tilly　had　gone　to　get　the　dipper　of　water。　It　was　the　wrong　time　for　chivalry；　Roland　shot　them　both　in　the　back。　He　would　have　to　move　fast　now；　very　fast　indeed；　and　he　would　not　risk　being　waylaid　by　these　two　if　they　should　chance　to　rediscover　their　guts。
　　A　cluster　of　bright　orange　lights　came　on　at　the　top　of　the　capsule…shaped　enclosure；　and　an　alarm　began　to　go　off：　in　broad；　hoarse　blats　that　bartered　the　walls。　After　a　moment　or　two；　the　emergency　lights　began　to　pulse　in　sync　with　the　alarm。
　　
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　　EDDIE　WAS　RETURNING　TO　Susannah　when　the　alarm　began　to　wail。　He　yelled　in　surprise　and　raised　the　Ruger；　pointing　it　at　nothing。　〃What's　happening？〃
　　Susannah　shook　her　head…she　had　no　idea。　The　alarm　was　scary；　but　that　was　only　part　of　the　problem；　it　was　also　loud　enough　to　be　physically　painful。　Those　amplified　jags　of　sound　made　Eddie　think　of　a　tractor…tra