th.red dragon-第57部分

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is　way　and　that　way。　'I　can't　stand　to　see　you　burn；'　he　says；　and　blows　Lang's　head　off　with　a　twelve…gauge。
　〃Lang　was　perfect。　He　didn't　have　any　teeth　anyway。　Maybe　Dolarhyde　knew　the　maxillary　arch　survives　fires　a　lot　of　times　…　who　knows　what　he　knew？　Anyway；　Lang　didn't　have　any　maxillary　arch　after　Dolarhyde　got　through　with　him。　He　shot　the　head　off　Lang's　body　and　he　must　have　tipped　a　chair　or　something　for　the　thud　of　the　body　falling。　He'd　hung　the　key　around　Lang's　neck。
　〃Now　Reba's　scrambling　around　looking　for　the　key。　Dolarhyde's　in　the　corner　watching。　Her　ears　are　ringing　from　the　shotgun。　She　won't　hear　his　little　noises。
　〃He's　started　a　fire；　but　he　hasn't　put　the　gas　to　it　yet。　He's　got　gas　in　the　room。　She　got　out　of　the　house　okay。　If　she　had　panicked　too　much；　run　into　a　wall　or　something　or　frozen；　I　guess　he'd　have　sapped　her　and　dragged　her　outside。　She　wouldn't　have　known　how　she　got　out。　But　she　had　to　get　out　for　it　to　work。　Oh　hell；　here　es　that　nurse。〃
　Graham　wrote　fast。　〃How　vehicle？〃
　〃You　have　to　admire　this；〃　Crawford　said。　〃He　knew　he'd　have　to　leave　his　van　at　the　house。　He　couldn't　drive　two　vehicles　out　there；　and　he　needed　a　getaway　piece。
　〃This　is　what　he　did：　he　made　Lang　hook　up　the　service…station　tow　truck　to　his　van。　He　snuffed　Lang；　locked　the　station；　and　towed　his　van　out　to　his　house。　Then　he　left　the　tow　truck　on　a　dirt　road　back　in　the　fields　behind　the　house；　got　back　in　his　van　and　went　after　Reba。　When　she　got　out　of　the　house　all　right；　he　dragged　out　his　dynamite；　put　the　gasoline　around　the　fire；　and　lammed　out　the　back。　He　drove　the　tow　truck　back　to　the　service　station；　left　it　and　got　Lang's　car。　No　loose　ends。
　〃It　drove　me　crazy　until　we　figured　it　out。　I　know　it's　right　because　he　left　a　couple　of　prints　on　the　tow　bar。
　〃We　probably　met　him　in　the　road　when　we　were　going　up　there　to　the　house　。　。　。　Yes；　ma'am。　I'm　ing。　Yes；　ma'am。〃
　Graham　wanted　to　ask　a　question；　but　it　was　too　late。
　Molly　took　the　next　five…minute　visit。
　Graham　wrote　〃I　love　you〃　on　Crawford's　pad。
　She　nodded　and　held　his　hand。
　A　minute　later　he　wrote　again。　〃Willy　okay？〃
　She　nodded。
　〃Here？〃
　She　looked　up　at　him　too　quickly　from　the　pad。　She　made　a　kiss　with　her　mouth　and　pointed　to　the　approaching　nurse。
　He　tugged　her　thumb。
　〃Where？〃　he　insisted；　underlining　twice。
　〃Oregon；〃　she　said。
　Crawford　came　a　final　time。
　Graham　was　ready　with　his　note。　It　said；　〃Teeth？〃
　〃His　grandmother's；〃　Crawford　said。　〃The　ones　we　found　in　the　house　were　his　grandmother's。　St。　Louis　PD　located　one　Ned　Vogt　…　Dolarhyde's　mother　was　Vogt's　stepmother。　Vogt　saw　Mrs。　Dolarhyde　when　he　was　a　kid；　and　he　never　forgot　the　teeth。
　〃That's　what　I　was　calling　you　about　when　you　ran　into　Dolarhyde。　The　Smithsonian　had　just　called　me。　They　finally　had　gotten　the　teeth　from　the　Missouri　authorities；　just　to　examine　for　their　own　satisfaction。　They　noticed　the　upper　part　was　made　of　vulcanite　instead　of　acrylic　like　they　use　now。　Nobody's　made　vulcanite　plates　in　thirty…five　years。
　〃Dolarhyde　had　a　new　acrylic　pair　just　like　them　made　to　fit　him。　The　new　ones　were　on　his　body。　Smithsonian　looked　at　some　features　on　them　…　the　fluting；　they　said；　and　rugae。　Chinese　manufacture。　The　old　ones　were　Swiss。
　〃He　had　a　key　on　him　too；　for　a　locker　in　Miami。　Big　book　in　there。　Kind　of　a　diary　…　hell　of　a　thing。　I'll　have　it　when　you　want　to　see　it。
　〃Look；　sport；　I　have　to　go　back　to　Washington。　I'll　get　back　down　here　the　weekend；　if　I　can。　You　gonna　be　okay？〃
　Graham　drew　a　question　mark；　then　scratched　it　out　and　wrote　〃sure。〃
　The　nurse　came　after　Crawford　left。　She　shot　some　Demerol　into　his　intravenous　line　and　the　clock　grew　fuzzy。　He　couldn't　keep　up　with　the　second　hand。
　He　wondered　if　Dernerol　would　work　on　your　feelings。　He　could　hold　Molly　a　while　with　his　face。　Until　they　finished　fixing　it　anyway。　That　would　be　a　cheap　shot。　Hold　her　for　what？　He　was　drifting　off　and　he　hoped　he　wouldn't　dream。
　He　did　drift　between　memory　and　dream；　but　it　wasn't　so　bad。　He　didn't　dream　of　Molly　leaving；　or　of　Dolarhyde。　It　was　a　long　memory…dream　of　Shiloh；　interrupted　by　lights　shone　in　his　face　and　the　gasp　and　hiss　of　the　blood…pressure　cuff　。　。　。
　It　was　spring；　soon　after　he　shot　Garrett　Jacob　Hobbs；　when　Graham　visited　Shiloh。
　On　a　soft　April　day　he　walked　across　the　asphalt　road　to　Bloody　Pond。　The　new　grass；　still　light　green；　grew　down　the　slope　to　the　water。　The　clear　water　had　risen　into　the　grass　and　the　grass　was　visible　in　the　water；　growing　down；　down；　as　though　it　covered　the　bottorn　of　the　pond。
　Graham　knew　what　had　happened　there　in　April　1862。
　He　sat　down　in　the　grass；　felt　the　damp　ground　through　his　trousers。
　A　tourist's　automobile　went　by　and　after　it　had　passed；　Graham　saw　movement　behind　it　in　the　road。　The　car　had　broken　a　chicken　snake's　back。　It　slid　in　endless　figure　eights　across　itself　in　the　center　of　the　asphalt　road；　sometimes　showing　its　black　back；　sometimes　its　pale　belly。
　Shiloh's　awesome　presence　hooded　him　with　cold；　though　he　was　sweating　in　the　mild　spring　sun。
　Graham　got　up　off　the　grass；　his　trousers　damp　behind。　He　was　light…headed。
　The　snake　looped　on　itself。　He　stood　over　it；　picked　it　up　by　the　end　of　its　smooth　dry　tail；　and　with　a　long　fluid　motion　cracked　it　like　a　whip。
　Its　brains　zinged　into　the　pond。　A　bream　rose　to　them。
　He　had　thought　Shiloh　haunted；　its　beauty　sinister　like　flags。
　Now；　drifting　between　memory　and　narcotic　sleep；　he　saw　that　Shiloh　was　not　sinister；　it　was　indifferent。　Beautiful　Shiloh　could　witness　anything。　Its　unforgivable　beauty　simply　underscored　the　indifference　of　nature；　the　Green　Machine。　The　loveliness　of　Shiloh　mocked　our　plight。
　He　roused　and　watched　the　mindless　clock；　but　he　couldn't　stop　thinking。
　In　the　Green　Machine　there　is　no　mercy；　we　make　mercy；　manufacture　it　in　the　parts　that　have　overgrown　our　basic　reptile　brain。
　There　is　no　murder。　We　make　murder；　and　it　matters　only　to　us。
　Graham　knew　too　well　that　he　contained　all　the　elements　to　make　murder；　perhaps　mercy　too。
　He　understood　murder　unfortably　well；　though。
　He　wondered　if；　in　the　great　body　of　humankind；　in　the　minds　of　men　set　on　civilization；　the　vicious　urges　we　control　in　ourselves　and　the　dark　instinctive　knowledge　of　those　urges　function　like　the　crippled　virus　the　body　arms　against。
　He　wondered　if　old；　awful　urges　are　the　virus　that　makes　vaccine。　Yes；　he　had　been　wrong　about　Shiloh。　Shiloh　isn't　haunted　…　men　are　haunted。
　Shiloh　doesn't　care。
　
　
　
　And　I　gave　my　heart　to　know　wisdom；　and　to　know　madness　and　folly：　I　perceived　that　this　also　is　vexation　of　spirit。
　…ECCLESIASTES
　



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