rm.thenightboat-第22部分

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　　〃I　hope　to　God　you　can　get　rid　of　it　that　easily；〃　Moore　said　in　a　hollow　tone。
　　Kip　turned　away　and　vanished　in　the　crowd　as　he　moved　toward　the　doorway；　leaving　Moore　sitting　alone。
　　As　the　constable　wound　his　way　through　the　clustered　tables　he　passed　the　group　of　poker　players；　and　one　of　them　was　leaning　over；　talking　eagerly；　eyes　widened　and　voice　lowered。　Kip　strained　to　hear；　seeing　the　taut　expressions　on　the　faces　of　the　others。　〃。。。it　that　goddamn　boat　bringin'　badness　here；〃　the　man　was　saying。　〃Me；　I　afraid　to　even　go　down　there　and　see　it。　I　doan　want　nothin'　to。。。〃　He　looked　up　suddenly　into　Kip's　face；　as　did　the　other　men。　Kip　paused；　gazing　around　the　table。
　　The　man　who'd　been　speaking　glanced　across　to　the　dealer。　〃Two　fuckin'　cards；〃　he　said。
　　Kip　made　his　way　out　of　the　whirling　circles　of　smoke　and　noise　into　the　coolness　of　night。　And　as　he　walked　along　the　street　to　his　jeep　he　caught　the　fetid　odor　of　rot；　a　stench　hanging　in　the　air；　blown　across　the　island　in　the　grip　of　the　evening's　breeze。　He　knew　what　it　was：　the　decay　from　the　thing　in　the　shelter　oozing　through　the　cracks　and　holes　like　a　disease　to　infect　all　of　Coquina。
　　He　reached　the　jeep；　slid　behind　the　wheel；　and　paused　before　starting　the　engine。　He　could　lie　to　David　Moore；　he　could　lie　to　all　of　them；　perhaps；　as　part　of　his　responsibility　as　peacekeeper　of　Coquina。　But　he　could　never　lie　to　himself。　There　was　something　terrible；　something　unspeakable　in　its　evil；　down　in　the　guts　of　that　U…boat。
　　The　wafting　coils　of　rot　came　down　around　him；　tightening　at　his　throat。　He　started　the　engine；　put　it　in　gear；　and　drove　through　the　darkness　toward　home。
　　　
　　　Eleven
　　
　　WHEN　HE　WAS　a　young　boy　running　free　and　wild　on　the　waterfront　streets　of　St。　Thomas；　Cockrell　Goodloe　had　seen　a　woman　stabbed　to　death。
　　It　had　been　very　fast；　a　blur　of　motion　and　color　as　a　man　in　a　red　shirt　darted　from　an　alley；　catching　a　lithe　young　black　woman　in　a　brown…striped　dress　around　the　throat。　She　had　dropped　a　sack　of　groceries　at　her　feet；　and　Goodloe　had　seen　the　sharp　glitter　of　a　blade　as　the　knife　drove　down　into　her　midsection　once；　then　again。　〃You　bad！〃　the　man　had　shouted　mindlessly。　〃You　dirty　bad！〃　The　young　woman　had　opened　her　mouth　to　scream。　At　first　nothing　came　out　but　a　terrible　choking　sound；　and　then　the　shriek　came；　a　sound　that　raised　the　flesh　all　over　him；　that　caught　at　his　throat　and　made　him　clap　his　hands　over　his　ears。　The　man　had　cast　her　aside；　dropping　the　knife；　and　had　turned　to　run。　A　few　older　men　shouted　and　chased　after　him；　on　the　blood…pooled　earth　the　woman　shrieked；　on　and　on；　a　cry　of　desperation　and　horror。　And　then　she　was　silent；　and　that　was　when　someone　bent　down　beside　her。
　　And　now；　forty　years　later；　in　the　middle　of　a　dreamless　sleep；　he　heard　that　shriek　again。
　　At　once　he　had　pulled　himself　out　of　bed；　his　nerves　tingling　and　heart　pounding　as　they　had　done　that　day　a　long　time　ago。　He　was　still　groggy　from　sleep；　and　he　stood　in　the　center　of　his　room；　bare　feet　on　harsh　timbers；　groping　for　the　lantern　at　the　bedside。
　　〃What　that？〃　his　wife　asked；　rising　up　in　bed；　a　shadow　in　the　darkness。　〃What　that　sound？〃
　　〃Jus'　wait　now；〃　he　said。　Matches。　Where　them　goddamn　matches？　He　found　them；　lit　the　lantern　wick。　The　flame　grew；　warming　the　sparsely　furnished　room。　He　put　on　a　threadbare　shirt　over　his　shorts　and；　taking　the　lantern；　he　crossed　the　floor　to　the　single　open　window。　He　drew　aside　a　tattered　curtain　and　peered　out　into　the　night。　His　wife　came　up　beside　him　and　clutched　at　his　shoulder。
　　There　was　another　loud；　pained　shriek。　Sounded　like　a　woman；　stabbed　and　screaming。　But　no；　that　couldn't　be　it。　Goodloe's　farm　was　two　miles　to　the　north　of　Coquina　village；　and　the　next　nearest　place　was　another　mile　on。　The　shriek　continued　for　a　few　more　seconds；　ending　in　a　high；　wild　grunt。　Then　came　the　rooting　of　the　hogs　in　their　pen　behind　the　storage　shed。
　　〃Somethin'　at　the　hogs！〃　Goodloe　said。　He　turned　from　the　window；　moving　quickly　past　his　wife；　through　a　tiny　kitchen　to　the　back　door。　〃Don't　you　go　out　there！〃　the　woman　cried　out　in　a　frantic　burst　of　words。　〃Don't　you　go。。。！〃　But　he　was　already　through　the　door；　grasping　a　hoe　he　had　propped　against　a　wall。　He　followed　the　lantern's　track　toward　the　hog　pen。　Now　more　of　the　hogs　were　squealing；　that　terrible；　almost…human　sound　of　fear　and　pain；　and　Goodloe's　skin　crawled。
　　〃Don't　go！〃　his　wife　called　out；　running　after　him；　her　gown　flying。
　　He　hefted　the　hoe　like　a　weapon　as　he　neared　the　storage　shed；　it　had　been　torn　open；　and　one　door　sagged　off　its　hinges。　What　the　hell？　he　wondered；　his　mind　racing。　And　then　he　had　rounded　the　shed　and　stood　near　the　fenced…in　pen　where　he　kept　his　livestock。
　　The　reddish…brown　beasts；　fattened　for　Saturday　market；　churned　madly　within　the　pen；　jostling　each　other　in　a　frenzy；　rooting　frantically　and　emitting　squeals　of　terror。　Goodloe　couldn't　see　for　the　dust　they　were　kicking　up；　and　he　lifted　his　lantern　over　his　head。
　　In　the　dim　shafts　of　light　that　pierced　the　haze　of　dust　he　saw　that　two　of　the　largest　hogs　were　down。　Black　blood　glistened　around　their　bulks；　and　he　could　see　the　gleam　of　bone　through　their　wounds。　The　other　hogs　were　startled　at　the　light；　their　eyes　were　wild　and　red；　and　they　jammed　into　each　other　to　get　away　from　the　reek　of　death。　But　there　was　another　noise；　a　sound　above　the　squeals。
　　It　was　the　sound　of　flesh　being　ripped　by　the　handfuls。
　　And　another　noise；　an　unrestrained　sucking；　made　Goodloe　back　away　a　few　paces　from　the　pen。　He　bumped　into　his　wife；　who　grasped　at　him　and　trembled；　her　eyes　widening　because　she　had　seen。
　　There　were　other　figures　in　the　pen；　forms　that　huddled　around　the　hogs'　carcasses　and　feverishly　tore　the　flesh；　then　bent　over　to　suck　from　the　flowing　rivers　of　liquid。　The　beams　reflected　off　the　backs　of　the　hogs；　piercing　the　shadows　and　briefly　illuminating　things　that　appeared　human　and　inhuman　at　the　same　time。　When　the　light　grazed　them　they　looked　up　into　the　beams；　and　Goodloe　caught　his　breath　in　terror。　There　were　three　of　them；　huddled　over　the　flesh　and　pools　of　blood；　and　the　light　catching　in　their　eyes　burned　like　the　raging　centers　of　hell。
　　〃Oh　God　Jesus；〃　Goodloe　whispered　hoarsely。
　　And　then　the　things　drew　themselves　away　from　the　light；　throwing　up　skeletal　arms　before　their　faces。　Beside　him　the　woman　screamed；　and　then　the　forms　got　to　their　feet；　half…hidden　by　the　dust。　Goodloe　dropped　his　lantern　down　and　when　he　did　the　things　melted　into　the　darkness；　moving　like　aged　men　plagued　by　some　terrible　bone…rotting　disease。
　　Goodloe　and　his　wife　stood　where　they　were　for　a　few　moments　more；　the　woman　crying　and　the　man　murmuring　〃Be　quiet。　Be　quiet；〃　over　and　over　again。　In　the　distance　they　heard　the　brittle　noise　of　the　things　crashing　through　jungle　growth；　and　it　wasn't　until　long　after　that　noise　had　faded　that　the　man　moved　unsteadily　toward　the　animals。
　　〃Get　back　to　the　house；〃　he　told　his　wife。　She　shook　her　head；　and　he　yelled；　〃GO　ON！〃
　　She　stepped　away；　looking　fearfully　beyond　him　toward　the　veil　of　the　jungle；　and　then　ran　back　to　the　farmhouse。
　　Goodloe　moved　around　to　the　opposite　side　of　the　pen　to　the　place　where　the　fence　had　been　torn　open。　Stepping　over　shattered　timbers；　he　knelt　over　the　carcasses　and　examined　the　wounds。　The　throats　had　been　ripped　wide　open；　veins　torn　and　bone　gnawed。　Large　pieces　of　flesh　and　hair　lay　scattered　at　his　feet。　The　other　hogs；　still　unsettled　and　fearful；　stayed　crowded　together　in　a　far　corner；　seemingly　mesmerized　by　the　lantern。　Goodloe　stood　up；　stepped　through　cooling　puddles　and　gazed　off　into　the　underbrush。　The　things　had　attacked　and　killed　like　animals；　but　in　the　dim　light　they　had　appeared　to　be　men。　They'd　looked　old　and。。。　yes。。。　diseased。　Sort　of　like　lepers：　pieces　of　their　faces　missing；　a　two…fingered　hand　thrust　out；　a　head　covered　with　what　looked　like　yellowish　sores。　He　trembled；　staring　off　into　the　darkness。
　　And　when　he　left　the　pen　he　began　walking　quickly　for　his　house；　knowing　that　whatever　they　had　been。。。　men；　animals；　or　some　nightmarish　breed　of　both。。。　they　might　be　back；　and　there　was　a　rifle　under　the　bed　he　had　to　load。
　　　
　　　Twelve
　　
　　THE　SHIP'S　BELL　mounted　in　front　of　Everybody's　Grocers　tolled　six　times。　As　the　morning　light　strengthened　across　the　island；　the　Square　was　filled　with　people　in　all　manner　of　clothing　and　a　wild　rainbow　of　bright　hues。　There　was　much　talking　and　laughing；　and　a　couple　of　the　island's　musicians　had　set　up　their　steel　drums　on　the　grocery's　porch；　intertwining　their　delicately　sweet　rhythms　and　motioning　occasionally　to　an　upturned　hat　used　to　catch　coins。
　　There　were　tables　of　goods　for　Saturday　market…bananas；　coconuts；　papaya；　corn；　tobacco；　a　myriad　of　vegetables…and　beneath　the　shade　of　a　thatched…roof　shed　there　were　large　ice…filled　buckets　containing　snapper；　amberjack；　squid；　and　grouper。　Bundles　of　sugarcane　were　arranged　in　stacks；　and　children　paid　for　them　by　the　stick。　There　were　cardboard　boxes　filled　with　chickens；　and　hogs　grunting　and　pulling　at　the　rope　collars　attaching　them　to　poles　in　the　ground。　An　aged　man　in　a　straw　hat　sat　in　a　patch　of　shade；　moving　back　and　forth　in　a　rocking　chair；　telling　ghost　stories　to　wide…eyed　children　who　crowded　around　to　hear。　There　was　much　probing　and　handling　of　goods；　and　voices　were　raised　in　the　babble　of　haggling　for　the　best　price　and　determining　whether　corn　grown　to　the　east　or　to　the　north　was　the　sweetest。
　　David　Moore；　carrying　snapper　fillets　wrapped　in　newspaper　under　one　arm　and　a　sack　of　vegetables　under　the　other；　moved　gingerly　through　the　crowd；　in　the　midst　of　its　furious　blare　of　voices；　music；　and　colors。　There　was　a　man　selling　drinks　from　a　cooler；　and　Moore　paused　to　buy　a　lime　soda　before　being　swept　up　again　in　the　crush　of　people。　He　saw　people　he　recognized　on　every　side；　but　no　one　spoke　to　him；　and　those　who　caught　his　gaze　quickly　looked　away；　whispering　and　motioning。　He　knew　he　was　an　outcast　because　he　had　been　the　one　who　had　found　and　freed　the　U…boat；　he　could　feel　the　ten