sk.dreamcatcher-第108部分

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　　　　Deke　knew；　suddenly　and　absolutely；　that　if　he　didn't　have　bacon；　this　man　would　kill　him。　He　might　kill　him　anyway；　but　without　bacon　。　。　。　yes；　certainly。　He　did　have　bacon。　Thank　God；　thank　Christ；　thank　Okeefenokee　and　all　the　hopping　ragheads；　he　did　have　bacon。
　　　　'Cooler　in　back；'　he　said　in　his　new；　strange　voice。　The　hand　lying　on　top　of　his　magazine　felt　as　cold　as　a　block　of　ice。　In　his　head；　he　heard　whispering　voices　that　didn't　seem　to　be　his　own。　Red　thoughts　and　black　thoughts。　Hungry　thoughts。
　　　　An　inhuman　voice　asked；　What's　a　cooler？　A　tired　voice；　very　human；　responded：　Go　on　up　the　aisle；　handsome。　You'll　see　it。
　　　　Hearing　voices；　Deke　thought。　Aw；　Jesus；　no。　That's　what　happens　to　people　just　before　they　flip　out。
　　　　The　man　moved　past　Deke　and　up　the　center　aisle。　He　walked　with　a　heavy　limp。　　　　
　　　　There　was　a　phone　by　the　cash…register。　Deke　looked　at　it；　then　looked　away。　It　was　within　reach；　and　he　had　911　on　the　speed…dialer；　but　it　might　as　well　have　been　on　the　moon。　Even　if　he　was　able　to　summon　enough　strength　to　reach　for　the　phone…
　　　　I'll　know；　the　inhuman　voice　said；　and　Deke　let　out　a　breathless　little　moan。　It　was　inside　his　head；　as　if　someone　had　planted　a　radio　in　his　brain。
　　　　There　was　a　convex　mirror　mounted　over　the　door；　a　gadget　that　came　in　especially　handy　in　the　summer；　when　the　store　was　full　of　kids　headed　up　to　the　Reservoir　with　their　parents　the　Quabbin　was　only　eighteen　miles　from　here　…　for　fishing　or　camping　or　just　a　picnic。　Little　bastards　were　always　trying　to　kite　stuff；　particularly　the　candy　and　the　girly　magazines。　Now　Deke　looked　into　it；　watching　with　dread　fascination　as　the　man　in　the　orange　coat　approached　the　cooler。　He　stood　there　a　moment；　gazing　in；　then　grabbed　not　just　one　package　of　bacon　but　all　four　of　them。
　　　　The　man　came　back　down　the　middle　aisle　with　the　bacon；　limping　along　and　scanning　the　shelves。　He　looked　dangerous；　he　looked　hungry；　and　he　also　looked　dreadfully　tired　…　like　a　marathon　runner　going　into　the　last　mile。　Looking　at　him　gave　Deke　the　same　sense　of　vertigo　he　felt　when　he　looked　down　from　a　high　place。　It　was　like　looking　not　at　one　person　but　at　several；　overlaid　and　shifting　in　and　out　of　focus。　Deke　thought　fleetingly　of　a　movie　he'd　seen；　some　daffy　cunt　with　about　a　hundred　personalities。
　　　　The　man　stopped　and　got　a　jar　of　mayonnaise。　At　the　foot　of　the　aisle　he　stopped　again　and　snagged　a　loaf　of　bread。　Then　he　was　at　the　counter　again。　Deke　could　almost　smell　the　exhaustion　ing　out　of　his　pores。　And　the　craziness。
　　　　He　set　his　purchases　down　and　said；　'Bacon　sandwiches　on　white；　with　mayo。　Those　are　the　best。'　And　smiled。　It　was　a　smile　of　such　tired；　heartbreaking　sincerity　that　Deke　forgot　his　fear　for　a　moment。
　　　　Without　thinking；　he　reached　out。　'Mister；　are　you　all　r…'
　　　　Deke's　hand　stopped　as　if　it　had　run　into　a　wall。　It　trembled　for　a　moment　over　the　counter；　then　flew　up　and　slapped　his　own　face　…　crack！　It　drew　slowly　away　and　stopped；　floating　like　a　Hovercraft。
　　　　The　third　and　fourth　fingers　folded　slowly　down　against　the　palm。
　　　　Don't　kill　him！
　　　　e　out　and　stop　me！
　　　　If　you　make　me　try；　you　might　get　a　surprise。
　　　　These　voices　were　in　his　head。
　　　　His　Hovercraft　hand　floated　forward　and　the　first　two　fingers　plunged　into　his　nostrils；　plugging　them。　For　a　moment　they　were　still；　and　then　oh　dear　Christ　they　began　to　dig。　And　while　Deke　McCaskell　had　many　questionable　habits；　chewing　his　nails　was　not　one　of　them。　At　first　his　fingers　didn't　want　to　move　much　up　there　close　quarters　…　but　then；　as　the　lubricating　blood　began　to　flow；　they　became　positively　frisky。　They　squirmed　like　worms。　The　dirty　nails　dug　like　fangs。　They　shoved　up　further；　burrowing　brainward　。　。　。　he　could　feel　cartilage　tearing　。　。　。　could　hear　it　。　。　。
　　　　Stop　it；　Mr　Gray；　stop　it！
　　　　And　suddenly　Deke's　fingers　belonged　to　him　again。　He　pulled　them　free　with　a　wet　plop。　Blood　pattered　down　on　the　counter；　on　the　rubber　change…pad　with　the　Skoal　logo　on　it；　also　on　the　unclad　lass　in　glasses　whose　anatomy　he　had　been　studying　when　this　creature　had　e　in。
　　　　'How　much　do　I　owe　you；　Deke？'
　　　　'Take　it！'　Still　that　crow…croak；　but　now　it　was　a　nasal　croak；　because　his　nostrils　were　plugged　with　blood。　'Aw；　man；　just　take　it　and　go！　The　fuck　outta　here！'
　　　　'No；　I　insist。　This　is　merce；　in　which　items　of　real　worth　are　exchanged　for　currency　plain。'
　　　　'Three　dollars！'　Deke　cried。　Shock　was　setting　in。　His　heart　was　beating　wildly；　his　muscles　thrumming　with　adrenaline。　He　believed　the　creature　might　be　going；　and　this　made　everything　infinitely　worse：　to　be　so　close　to　a　continued　life　and　still　know　it　could　be　snatched　away　at　this　fucking　loony's　least　whim。
　　　　The　loony　brought　out　a　battered　old　wallet；　opened　it；　and　rummaged　for　what　seemed　an　age。　Saliva　drizzled　steadily　from　his　mouth　as　he　bent　over　the　wallet。　At　last　he　came　out　with　three　dollars。　He　put　them　on　the　counter。　The　wallet　went　back　into　his　pocket。　He　rummaged　in　his　nasty…looking　jeans　（rode　hard　and　put　away　wet；　Deke　thought）；　came　out　with　a　fistful　of　change；　and　laid　three　coins　on　the　Skoal　pad。　Two　quarters　and　a　dime。
　　　　'I　tip　twenty　per　cent；'　his　customer　said　with　unmistakable　pride。　'Jonesy　tips　fifteen。　This　is　better。　This　is　more。'
　　　　'Sure；'　Deke　whispered。　His　nose　was　full　of　blood。
　　　　'Have　a　nice　day。'
　　　　'You　。　。　。　you　take　it　easy。'
　　　　The　man　in　the　orange　coat　stood　with　his　head　lowered。　Deke　could　hear　him　sorting　through　possible　responses。　It　made　him　feel　like　screaming。　At　last　the　man　said；　'I　will　take　it　any　way　I　can　get　it。'　There　was　another　pause。　Then：　'I　don't　want　you　to　call　anyone；　partner。'
　　　　'I　won't。'
　　　　'Swear　to　God？'
　　　　'Yeah。　Swear　to　God。'
　　　　'I'm　like　God；'　his　customer　remarked。
　　　　'Yeah；　okay。　Whatever　you…'　　　　
　　　　'If　you　call　someone；　I'll　know。　I'll　e　back　and　fix　your　wagon。'
　　　　'I　won't！'
　　　　'Good　idea。'　He　opened　the　door。　The　bell　jangled。　He　went　out。
　　　　For　a　moment　Deke　stood　where　he　was；　as　if　frozen　to　the　floor。　Then　he　rushed　around　the　counter；　bumping　his　upper　leg　hard　on　the　er。　By　nightfall　there　would　be　a　huge　black　bruise　there；　but　for　the　moment　he　felt　nothing。　He　turned　the　thumb…lock；　shot　the　bolt；　then　stood　there；　peering　out。　Parked　in　front　of　the　store　was　a　little　red　shitbox　Subaru；　mudsplattered；　also　looking　rode　hard　and　put　away　wet。　The　man　juggled　his　purchases　into　the　crook　of　one　arm；　opened　the　door；　and　got　in　behind　the　wheel。
　　　　Drive　away；　Deke　thought。　Please；　mister；　for　the　love　of　God　just　drive　away。
　　　　But　he　didn't。　He　picked　something　up　instead　…　the　loaf　of　bread　…　and　pulled　the　tie　off　the　end。　He　took　out　roughly　a　dozen　slices。　Next　he　opened　the　jar　of　mayonnaise；　and；　using　his　finger　as　a　knife；　began　to　slather　the　slices　of　bread　with　mayo。　After　finishing　each　slice；　he　licked　his　finger　clean。　Each　time　he　did；　his　eyes　slipped　closed；　his　head　tipped　back；　and　an　expression　of　ecstasy　filled　his　features；　radiating　out　from　the　mouth。　When　he　had　finished　with　the　bread；　he　picked　up　one　of　the　packages　of　meat　and　tore　off　the　paper　covering。　He　opened　the　plastic　inner　envelope　with　his　teeth　and　shook　out　the　pound　of　sliced　bacon。　He　folded　it　and　put　it　on　a　piece　of　bread；　then　put　another　piece　on　top。　He　tore　into　the　sandwich　as　ravenously　as　a　wolf。　That　expression　of　divine　enjoyment　never　left　his　face；　it　was　the　look　of　a　man　enjoying　the　greatest　gourmet　meal　of　his　life。　His　throat　knotted　as　each　huge　bite　went　down。　Three　such　bites　and　the　sandwich　was　gone。　As　the　man　in　the　car　reached　for　two　more　pieces　of　bread；　a　thought　filled　Deke　McCaskell's　brain；　flashing　there　like　a　neon　sign。　It's　even　better　this　way！　Almost　alive！　Cold；　but　almost　alive！
　　　　Deke　backed　away　from　the　door；　moving　slowly；　as　if　underwater。　The　grayness　of　the　day　seemed　to　invade　the　store；　dimming　the　lights。　He　felt　his　legs　e　unhinged；　and　before　the　dirty　board　floor　tilted　up　to　meet　him；　gray　had　gone　to　black。


21

When　Deke　came　to；　it　was　later　…　just　how　much　later　he　couldn't　tell；　because　the　Budweiser　digital　clock　over　the　beer　cooler　was　flashing　88：88。　Three　of　his　teeth　lay　on　the　floor；　knocked　out　when　he　fell　down；　he　assumed。　The　blood　around　his　nose　and　on　his　chin　had　dried　to　a　spongy　cake。　He　tried　to　get　up；　but　his　legs　wouldn't　support　him。　He　crawled　to　the　door　instead；　with　his　hair　hanging　in　his　face；　praying。
　　　　His　prayer　was　answered。　The　little　red　shitbox　car　was　gone。　Where　it　had　been　were　four　bacon　packages；　all　empty；　the　mayonnaise　jar；　three…quarters　empty；　and　half　a　loaf　of　Holsum　white　bread。　Several　crows　…　there　were　some　almighty　big　ones　around　the　Reservoir　…　had　found　the　bread　and　were　pecking　slices　out　of　the　torn　wrapper。　At　a　distance　…　almost　back　to　Route　32　two　or　three　more　were　at　work　on　a　congealed　mess　of　bacon　and　matted　chunks　of　bread。　Monsieur's　gourmet　lunch　had　not　agreed　with　him；　it　seemed。
　　　　God；Deke　thought。I　hope　you　puked　so　hard　you　tore　your　plumbing　loose；　you…
　　　　But　then　his　own　guts　took　a　fantastical；　skipping　leap　and　he　clapped　his　hand　over　his　mouth；　He　had　a　hideously　clear　image　of　the　man's　teeth　closing　on　the　raw；　fatty　meat　hanging　out　between　the　pieces　of　bread；　gray　flesh　veined　with　brown　like　the　severed　tongue　of　a　dead　horse。　Deke　began　to　make　muffled　yurking　sounds　behind　his　hand。
　　　　A　car　turned　in　…　just　what　he　needed；　a　customer　while　he　was　on　the　verge　of　tossing　his　cookies。　Not　really　a　car　at　all；　on　second　glance；　nor　a　truck；　either。　Not　even　an　SUV。　It　was　one　of　those　godawful　Humvees；　painted　in　smeary　camouflage　blobs　of　black　and　green。　Two　people　in　front　and　…　Deke　was　almost　sure　of　it　…　another　in　back。
　　　　He　reached　out；　flipped　the　OPEN　sign　hanging　in　the　door　over　to　CLOSED；　then　backed　away。　He　had　gotten　to　his　feet；　had　managed　at　least　that　much；　but　now　he　felt　perilously　close　to　collapsing　again。　They　saw　me　in　here；　just　as　sure　as　shit；　he　thought。　They'll　e　in　and　ask　where　the　other　one　went；　because　they're　after　him。　They　want　him；　they　want　the　bacon　sandwich　man。　And　I'll　tell。　They'll　make　me