dk.watchers-第3部分

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g　was　warning　the　unseen　enemy　to　stay　back。
　〃Easy　boy；〃　Travis　said　softly。　〃Easy。〃
　The　retriever　stopped　barking　but　did　not　glance　at　Travis。　It　stared　intently　into　the　brush；　peeling　its　pebbly　black　lips　off　its　teeth　and　growling　deep　in　its　throat。
　Still　breathing　hard；　Travis　got　to　his　feet　and　looked　east　into　the　woods。　Evergreens；　sycamores；　a　few　larches。　Shadows　like　swatches　of　dark　cloth　were　fastened　here　and　there　by　golden　pins　and　needles　of　light。　Brush。　Briars。　Climbing　vines。　A　few　well…worn　toothlike　formations　of　rock。　He　saw　nothing　out　of　the　ordinary。
　When　he　reached　down　and　put　a　hand　upon　the　retriever's　head；　the　dog　stopped　growling；　as　if　it　understood　his　intention。　Travis　drew　a　breath；　held　it；　and　listened　for　movement　in　the　brush。
　The　cicadas　remained　silent。　No　birds　sang　in　the　trees。　The　woods　were　as　still　as　if　the　vast；　elaborate　clockwork　mechanism　of　the　universe　had　ceased　ticking。
　He　was　sure　that　he　was　not　the　cause　of　the　abrupt　silence。　His　passage　through　the　canyon　had　not　previously　disturbed　either　birds　or　cicadas。
　Something　was　out　there。　An　intruder　of　which　the　ordinary　forest　creatures　clearly　did　not　approve。
　He　took　a　deep　breath　and　held　it　again；　straining　to　hear　the　slightest　movement　in　the　woods。　This　time　he　detected　the　rustle　of　brush；　a　snapping　twig；　the　soft　crunch　of　dry　leaves…and　the　unnervingly　peculiar；　heavy；　ragged　breathing　of　something　big。　It　sounded　about　forty　feet　away；　but　he　could　not　pinpoint　its　location。
　At　his　side；　the　retriever　had　gone　rigid。　Its　floppy　ears　were　slightly　pricked；　straining　forward。
　The　unknown　adversary's　raspy　breathing　was　so　creepy…whether　because　of　the　echo　effect　of　the　forest　and　canyon；　or　because　it　was　just　creepy　to　begin　with…that　Travis　quickly　took　off　his　backpack；　unsnapped　the　flap；　and　withdrew　the　loaded　。38。
　The　dog　stared　at　the　gun。　Travis　had　the　weird　feeling　that　the　animal　knew　what　the　revolver　was…and　approved　of　the　weapon。
　Wondering　if　the　thing　in　the　woods　was　a　man；　Travis　called　out：　〃Who's　there？　e　on　out　where　I　can　see　you。〃
　The　hoarse　breathing　in　the　brush　was　now　underlaid　with　a　thick　menacing　gnarl。　The　eerie　guttural　resonance　electrified　Travis。　His　heart　beat　even　harder；　and　he　went　as　rigid　as　the　retriever　beside　him。　For　interminable　ticking　seconds；　he　could　not　understand　why　the　noise　itself　had　sent　such　a　powerful　current　of　fear　through　him。　Then　he　realized　that　what　frightened　him　was　the　noise's　ambiguity：　the　beast's　growl　was　definitely　that　of　an　animal　。　。　。　yet　there　was　also　an　indescribable　quality　that　bespoke　intelligence；　a　tone　and　modulation　almost　like　the　sound　that　an　enraged　man　might　make。　The　more　he　listened；　the　more　Travis　decided　it　was　neither　strictly　an　animal　nor　human　sound。　But　if　neither　。　。　。　then　what　the　hell　was　it？
　He　saw　the　high　brush　stirring。　Straight　ahead。　Something　was　ing　toward　him。
　〃Stop；〃　he　said　sharply。　〃No　closer。〃
　It　kept　ing。
　Now　just　thirty　feet　away。
　Moving　slower　than　it　had　been。　A　bit　wary　perhaps。　But　closing　in　nevertheless。
　The　golden　retriever　began　to　growl　threateningly；　again　warning　off　the　creature　that　stalked　them。　But　tremors　were　visible　in　its　flanks；　and　its　head　shook。　Though　it　was　challenging　the　thing　in　the　brush；　it　was　profoundly　frightened　of　a　confrontation。
　The　dog's　fear　unnerved　Travis。　Retrievers　were　renowned　for　boldness　and　courage。　They　were　bred　to　be　the　panions　of　hunters；　and　were　frequently　used　in　dangerous　rescue　operations。　What　peril　or　foe　could　provoke　such　dread　in　a　strong；　proud　dog　like　this？
　The　thing　in　the　brush　continued　toward　them；　hardly　more　than　twenty　feet　away　now。
　Though　he　had　as　yet　seen　nothing　extraordinary；　he　was　filled　with　superstitious　terror；　a　perception　of　indefinable　but　uncanny　presences。　He　kept　telling　himself　he　had　chanced　upon　a　cougar；　just　a　cougar；　that　was　probably　more　frightened　than　he　was。　But　the　icy　prickling　that　began　at　the　base　of　his　spine　and　extended　up　across　his　scalp　now　intensified。　His　hand　was　so　slick　with　sweat　that　he　was　afraid　the　gun　would　slip　out　of　his　grasp。
　Fifteen　feet。
　Travis　pointed　the　。38　in　the　air　and　squeezed　off　a　single　warning　shot。　The　blast　crashed　through　the　forest　and　echoed　down　the　long　canyon。
　The　retriever　did　not　even　flinch；　but　the　thing　in　the　brush　immediately　turned　away　from　them　and　ran　north；　upslope；　toward　the　canyon　rim。　Travis　could　not　see　it；　but　he　could　clearly　mark　its　swift　progress　by　the　waist…high　weeds　and　bushes　that　shook　and　parted　under　its　assault。
　For　a　second　or　two；　he　was　relieved　because　he　thought　he　had　frightened　it　off。　Then　he　saw　it　was　not　actually　running　away。　It　was　heading　north…northwest　on　a　curve　that　would　bring　it　to　the　deer　trail　above　them。　Travis　sensed　that　the　creature　was　trying　to　cut　them　off　and　force　them　to　go　out　of　the　canyon　by　the　lower　route；　where　it　would　have　more　and　better　opportunities　to　attack。　He　did　not　understand　how　he　knew　such　a　thing；　just　that　he　did　know　it。
　His　primordial　survival　instinct　drove　him　into　action　without　the　need　to　think　about　each　move　he　made；　he　automatically　did　what　was　required。　He　had　not　felt　that　animal　surety　since　he　had　seen　military　action　almost　a　decade　ago。
　Trying　to　keep　his　eye　on　the　telltale　tremble　of　the　brush　to　his　right；　abandoning　his　backpack　and　keeping　only　the　gun；　Travis　raced　up　the　steep　trail；　and　the　retriever　ran　behind　him。　Fast　as　he　was；　however；　he　was　not　fast　enough　to　overtake　the　unknown　enemy。　When　he　realized　that　it　was　going　to　reach　the　path　well　above　him；　he　fired　another　warning　shot；　which　did　not　startle　or　deflect　the　adversary　this　time。　He　fired　twice　into　the　brush　itself；　toward　the　indications　of　movement；　not　caring　if　it　was　a　man　out
　there；　and　that　worked。　He　did　not　believe　he　hit　the　stalker；　but　he　scared　it　at　last；　and　it　turned　away。
　He　kept　running。　He　was　eager　to　reach　the　canyon　rim；　where　the　trees　were　thin　along　the　ridge　top；　where　the　brush　was　sparse；　and　where　a　brighter　fall　of　sunlight　did　not　permit　concealing　shadows。
　When　he　arrived　at　the　crest　a　couple　of　minutes　later；　he　was　badly　winded。　The　muscles　of　his　calves　and　thighs　were　hot　with　pain。　His　heart　thumped　so　hard　in　his　chest　that　he　would　not　have　been　surprised　to　hear　the　echo　of　it　bouncing　off　another　ridge　and　ing　back　to　him　across　the　canyon。
　This　was　where　he　had　paused　to　eat　some　Oreos。　The　rattlesnake；　which　earlier　had　been　sunning　on　a　large　flat　rock；　was　gone。
　The　golden　retriever　had　followed　Travis。　It　stood　beside　him；　panting；　peering　down　the　slope　they　had　just　ascended。
　Slightly　dizzy；　wanting　to　sit　and　rest　but　aware　that　he　was　still　in　danger　of　an　unknown　variety；　Travis　looked　down　the　deer　trail；　too；　and　scanned　what　underbrush　he　could　see。　If　the　stalker　remained　in　pursuit　of　them；　it　was　being　more　circumspect；　climbing　the　slopes　without　disturbing　the　weeds　and　bushes。
　The　retriever　whined　and　tugged　once　at　Travis's　pants　leg。　It　scurried　across　the　top　of　the　narrow　ridge　to　a　declivity　by　which　they　could　make　their　way　down　into　the　next　canyon。　Clearly；　the　dog　believed　they　were　not　out　of　danger　and　ought　to　keep　moving。
　Travis　shared　that　conviction。　His　atavistic　fear…and　the　reliance　on　instinct　that　it　invoked…sent　him　hurrying　after　the　dog；　over　the　far　side　of　the　ridge；　into　another　tree…filled　canyon。
　　
　2
　Vincent　Nasco　had　been　waiting　in　the　dark　garage　for　hours。　He　did　not　look　as　if　he　would　be　good　at　waiting。　He　was　big…over　two　hundred　pounds；　six…three；　muscular…and　he　always　seemed　to　be　so　full　of　energy　that　he　might　burst　at　any　moment。　His　broad　face　was　placid；　usually　as　expressionless　as　the　face　of　a　cow。　But　his　green　eyes　flashed　with　vitality；　with　an　edgy　nervous　watchfulness…and　with　a　strange　hunger　that　was　like　something　you　expected　to　see　in　the　eyes　of　a　wild　animal；　some　jungle　cat；　but　never　in　the　eyes　of　a　man。　Like　a　cat；　in　spite　of　his　tremendous　energy；　he　was　patient。　He　could　crouch　for　hours；　motionless　and　silent；　waiting　for　prey。
　At　nine…forty　Tuesday　morning；　much　later　than　Nasco　expected；　the　dead…bolt　lock　on　the　door　between　the　garage　and　the　house　was　disengaged　with　a　single　hard　clack。　The　door　opened；　and　Dr。　Davis　Weatherby　flicked　on　the　garage　lights；　then　reached　for　the　button　that　would　raise　the　big　sectional　door。
　〃Stop　right　there；〃　Nasco　said；　rising　and　stepping　from　in　front　of　the　doctor's　pearl…gray　Cadillac。
　Weatherby　blinked　at　him；　surprised。　〃Who　the　hell…〃
　Nasco　raised　a　silencer…equipped　Walther　P…38　and　shot　the　doctor　once　in　the　face。
　Ssssnap。
　Cut　off　in　midsentence；　Weatherby　fell　backward　into　the　cheery　yellow　and　white　laundry　room。　Going　down；　he　struck　his　head　on　the　clothes　dryer　and　knocked　a　wheeled　metal　laundry　cart　into　the　wall。
　Vince　Nasco　was　not　worried　about　the　noise　because　Weatherby　was　unmarried　and　lived　alone。　He　stooped　over　the　corpse；　which　had　wedged　the　door　open；　and　tenderly　put　one　hand　on　the　doctor's　face。
　The　bullet　had　hit　Weatberby　in　the　forehead；　less　than　an　inch　above　the　bridge　of　his　nose。　There　was　little　blood　because　death　had　been　instantaneous；　and　the　slug　had　not　been　quite　powerful　enough　to　smash　through　the　back　of　the　man's　skull。　Weatherby's　brown　eyes　were　open　wide。　He　looked　startled。
　With　his　fingers；　Vince　stroked　Weatherby's　warm　cheek；　the　side　of　his　neck。　He　closed　the　sightless　left　eye；　then　the　right；　although　he　knew　that　postmortem　muscle　reactions　would　pop　them　open　again　in　a　couple　of　minutes。　With　a　profound　gratefulness　evident　in　his　tremulous　voice；　Vince　said；　〃Thank　you。　Thank　you；　Doctor。〃　He　kissed　both　of　the　dead　man's　closed　eyes。　〃Thank　you。〃
　Shivering　pleasantly；　Vince　plucked　the　car　keys　off　the　floor　where　the　dead　man　had　dropped　them；　went　into　the　garage；　and　opened　the　Cadillac's　trunk；　being　careful　not　to　touch　any　surface　on　which　he　might　leave　a　clear　fingerprint。　The　trunk　was　empty。　Good。　He　carried　Weatherby's　corpse　out　of　the　laundry　room；　put　it　in　the　trunk；　closed　and　l