sk.dreamcatcher-第120部分

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ust　said　fuck　the　original　equipment　and　had　replaced　the　whole　thing　with　steel　and　Teflon。　It　would　have　e　to　that；　anyway；　the　doc　had　told　Jonesy；　but　if　you'd　been　a　little　more　careful；　Chief；　you　could've　gotten　another　five　years　out　of　the　old　one。　He'd　had　the　operation　in　February；　shortly　after　Henry　and　Jonesy's　six…week　'vacation'　with　the　military　intelligence　and　Psy0ps　people　had　ended。
　　　　The　military　folks　had　offered　to　throw　in　the　hip　replacement　courtesy　of　Uncle　Sam　…　sort　of　a　coda　to　their　debriefing　…　but　Jonesy　had　refused　with　thanks；　saying　he　wouldn't　want　to　deprive　his　own　orthopedist　of　the　work；　or　his　insurance　pany　of　the　bill。
　　　　By　then；　all　the　two　of　them　had　wanted　was　to　get　out　of　Wyoming。　The　apartments　were　nice　（if　you　could　get　used　to　living　underground；　that　was）；　the　food　was　four…star　（Jonesy　put　on　ten　pounds；　Henry　close　to　twenty）；　and　the　movies　were　always　first…run。　The　atmosphere；　however；　was　just　a　teensy　bit　on　the　Dr　Strangelove　side。　For　Henry；　those　six　weeks　had　been　infinitely　worse　than　they　had　been　for　Jonesy。　Jonesy　suffered；　but　mostly　with　his　derailed　hip；　his　memories　of　sharing　a　body　with　Mr　Gray　had　faded　to　the　consistency　of　dreams　in　a　remarkably　short　space　of　time。
　　　　Henry's　memories；　on　the　other　hand；　had　only　grown　stronger。　Those　of　the　barn　were　the　worst。　The　debriefers　had　been　passionate；　not　a　Kurtz　in　the　bunch；　but　Henry　couldn't　block　his　thoughts　of　Bill　and　Marsha　and　Darren　Chiles；　Mr　Bomber…Joint…from…Newton。　They　often　came　to　visit　in　his　dreams。
　　　　So　did　Owen　Underhill。
　　　　'Reinforcements；'　Jonesy　said；　setting　the　bucket　of　beer　down。　He　then　lowered　himself　into　the　sagging　cane…bottomed　rocker　beside　Henry　with　a　grunt　and　a　grimace。
　　　　'One　more　and　I'm　done；'　Henry　said。　'I'm　driving　back　to　Portland　in　an　hour　or　so；　and　an　OUI　I　don't　need。'
　　　　'Stay　the　night；'　Jonesy　said；　watching　Noel。　The　baby　had　plumped　down　on　the　grass　beneath　the　picnic　table　and　now　seemed　intent　upon　inserting　the　remains　of　his　hot　dog　into　his　navel。
　　　　'With　your　kids　squabbling　their　way　toward　midnight　and　maybe　beyond？'　Henry　asked。　'Getting　my　pick　of　Mario　Bava　horror　movies？'
　　　　'I've　pretty　well　signed　off　the　fright　flicks；'　Jonesy　said。　'We're　having　a　Kevin　Costner　festival　tonight；　starting　with　The　Bodyguard。'
　　　　'I　thought　you　said　no　horror　movies。'
　　　　'Smartass。'　Then　he　shrugged；　grinned。　'Whatever　you　feel。'
　　　　Henry　raised　his　beer　can。　'Here's　to　absent　friends。'
　　　　Jonesy　raised　his　own。　'Absent　friends。'
　　　　They　clinked　cans　and　drank。
　　　　'How's　Roberta？'　Jonesy　asked。
　　　　Henry　smiled。　'Doing　very　well。　I　had　my　doubts　at　the　funeral　。　。　。'
　　　　Jonesy　nodded。　At　Duddits's　funeral　they　had　flanked　her；　and　that　had　been　a　good　thing；　because　Roberta　had　hardly　been　able　to　stand　on　her　own。
　　　　'。　。　。　but　now　she's　ing　on　strong。　Talking　about　opening　a　craft　shop。　I　think　it's　a　good　idea。　Of　course　she　misses　him。　After　Alfie　died；　Duds　was　her　life。'
　　　　'He　was　ours；　too；'　Jonesy　said。
　　　　'Yes。　I　suppose　he　was。'
　　　　'I　feel　so　bad　about　the　way　we　left　him　on　his　own　all　those　years。　I　mean；　he　had　leukemia　and　we　didn't　even　fucking　know。'
　　　　'Sure　we　knew；'　Henry　said。
　　　　Jonesy　looked　at　him；　eyebrows　raised。
　　　　'Hey；　Henry！'　Carla　called。　'How　do　you　want　your　burger？'
　　　　'Cooked！'　he　yelled　back。
　　　　'I　will　make　it　so；　sire。　Would　you　be　a　love　and　get　the　baby？　That　hot　dog's　rapidly　turning　into　a　dirt…dog。　Take　it　away　from　him　and　give　him　to　his　Dad。'
　　　　Henry　went　down　the　steps；　fished　Noel　out　from　under　the　table；　and　carried　him　back　toward　the　porch。
　　　　'Ennie！'　Noel　cried　brightly。　He　was　now　eighteen　months　old。
　　　　Henry　stopped；　feeling　a　chill　spread　up　his　back。　It　was　as　if　he　had　been　hailed　by　a　ghost。
　　　　'Eee　foo；　Ennie！　Eee　foo！'　Noel　hopped　Henry　briskly　on　the　nose　with　his　dirt…dog　to　underline　the　thrust　of　his　thesis。
　　　　'I'll　wait　for　my　burger；　thanks；'　he　said；　and　resumed　walking。
　　　　'No　eee　my　foo？'
　　　　'Ennie　eee　his　own　foo；　honeybunch。　But　maybe　I　ought　to　have　that　nasty　thing。　You　can　have　another　one　as　soon　as　they're　ready。'　He　tweezed　the　dirt…dog　out　of　Noel's　little　hand；　then　plumped　him　down　in　Jonesy's　lap　and　resumed　his　seat。　By　the　time　Jonesy　had　finished　swabbing　mustard　and　ketchup　out　of　his　son's　belly…button；　the　kid　was　almost　asleep。
　　　　'What　did　you　mean；　〃Sure　we　knew〃？'　Jonesy　asked。
　　　　'Ah；　Jonesy；　e　on。　Maybe　we　left　him；　or　tried；　but　do　you　think　Duddits　ever　left　us？　After　all　that　happened；　do　you　really　believe　that？'
　　　　Very　slowly；　Jonesy　shook　his　head。
　　　　'Some　of　it　was　growing　up　…　growing　apart　…　but　some　of　it　was　the　Richie　Grenadeau　thing。　That　worked　on　us　the　way　the　business　of　the　Rapeloews'　serving　platter　worked　on　Owen　Underhill。'　Jonesy　didn't　need　to　ask　what　this　meant；　in　Wyoming；　they'd　had　all　the　time　they　needed　to　catch　up　on　each　other's　story。
　　　　'There's　an　old　poem　about　a　man　trying　to　outrun　God；'　Henry　said。　〃'The　Hound　of　Heaven〃；　it's　called。　Duddits　wasn't　God　…　God　forbid　…　but　he　was　our　hound。　We　ran　as　fast　and　as　far　as　we　could；　but…'
　　　　'We　could　never　run　off　the　dreamcatcher；　could　we？'　Jonesy　said。　'None　of　us　could　do　that。　And　then　they　came。　The　byrum。　Stupid　spores　in　spaceships　built　by　some　other　race。　Is　that　what　they　were？　All　they　were？'
　　　　'I　don't　think　we'll　ever　know。　Only　one　question　got　answered　last　fall。　For　centuries　we've　looked　up　at　the　stars　and　asked　ourselves　if　we're　alone　in　the　universe。　Well；　now　we　know　we're　not。　Big　whoop；　huh？　Gerritsen　。　。　。　do　you　remember　Gerritsen？'
　　　　Jonesy　nodded。　Of　course　he　remembered　Terry　Gerritsen。　Navy　psychologist；　in　charge　of　the　Wyoming　debriefing　team；　always　joking　about　how　typical　it　was　that　Uncle　Sammy　would　post　him　to　a　place　where　the　nearest　water　was　Lars　Kilborn's　cow…wallow。　Gerritsen　and　Henry　had　bee　close　…　if　not　quite　friends；　only　because　the　situation　didn't　quite　allow　it。　Jonesy　and　Henry　had　been　well…treated　in　Wyoming；　but　they　hadn't　been　guests。　Still；　Henry　Devlin　and　Terry　Gerritsen　were　professional　colleagues；　and　such　things　made　a　difference。
　　　　'Gerritsen　started　by　assuming　two　questions　had　been　answered：　that　we're　not　alone　in　the　universe　and　that　we're　not　the　only　intelligent　beings　in　the　universe。　I　labored　hard　to　convince　him　that　the　second　postulate　was　based　on　faulty　logic；　a　house　built　on　sand。　I　don't　think　I　entirely　succeeded　in　getting　through；　but　I　may　have　planted　a　seed　of　doubt；　at　least。　Whatever　else　the　byrum　may　be；　they're　not　shipbuilders；　and　the　race　that　built　the　ships　may　be　gone。　May　in　fact　be　byrum　themselves　by　now。'
　　　　'Mr　Gray　wasn't　stupid。'
　　　　'Not　once　he　got　inside　your　head；　that　much　I　agree　with。　Mr　Gray　was　you；　Jonesy。　He　stole　your　emotions；　your　memories；　your　taste　for　bacon…'
　　　　'I　don't　eat　it　anymore。'　　　　
　　　　'I'm　not　surprised。　He　also　stole　your　basic　personality。　That　included　the　subconscious　kinks。　Whatever　there　is　in　you　that　liked　the　Mario　Bava　horror　movies　and　the　Sergio　Leone　westerns；　whatever　it　is　that　got　off　on　the　fear　and　the　violence　。　。　。　man；　Mr　Gray　loved　that　shit。　And　why　wouldn't　he？　Those　things　are　primitive　survival　tools。　As　the　last　of　his　kind　in　a　hostile　environment；　he　grabbed　every　damned　tool　he　could　lay　his　hands　on。'
　　　　'Bullshit。'　Jonesy's　dislike　of　this　idea　was　plain　on　his　face。
　　　　'It's　not。　At　Hole　in　the　Wall；　you　saw　what　you　expected　to　see；　which　was　an　X…Files…slash…Close　Encounters　of　the　Third　Kind　alien。　You　inhaled　the　byrus。　。　。　I　have　no　doubt　there　was　at　least　that　much　physical　contact。　。　。　but　you　were　pletely　immune　to　it。　As；　we　now　know；　at　least　fifty　per　cent　of　the　human　race　seems　to　be。　What　you　caught　was　an　intention　。　。　。　a　kind　of　blind　imperative。　Fuck；　there's　no　word　for　it；　because　there's　no　word　for　them。　But　I　think　it　got　in　because　you　believed　it　was　there。'
　　　　'You　are　telling　me；'　Jonesy　said；　looking　at　Henry　over　the　top　of　his　sleeping　son's　head；　'that　I　almost　destroyed　the　human　race　because　I　had　a　hysterical　pregnancy？'
　　　　'Oh；　no；'　Henry　said。　'If　that　had　been　all；　it　would　have　passed　off。　Would　have　amounted　to　no　more　than　a　。　。　。　a　fugue。　But　in　you；　the　idea　of　Mr　Gray　stuck　like　a　fly　in　a　spiderweb。'
　　　　'It　stuck　in　the　dreamcatcher。'
　　　　'Yes。'
　　　　They　fell　quiet。　Soon　Carla　would　call　them　and　they　would　eat　hot　dogs　and　hamburgers；　potato　salad　and　watermelon；　beneath　the　blue　shield　of　the　infinitely　permeable　sky。
　　　　'And　will　you　say　it　was　all　coincidence？'　Jonesy　asked。　'That　they　just　happened　to　e　down　in　the　Jefferson　Tract　and　I　just　happened　to　be　there？　And　not　just　me；　either。　You　and　Peter　and　Beav。　Plus　Duddits；　Just　a　couple　of　hundred　miles　to　the　south；　don't　forget　that。　Because　it　was　Duddits　who　held　us　together。'
　　　　'Duddits　was　always　a　sword　with　two　edges；'　Henry　said；　'Josie　Rinkenhauer　on　one　…　Duddits　the　finder；　Duddits　the　savior。　Richie　Grenadeau　on　the　other　…　Duddits　the　killer。　Only　Duddits　needed　us　to　help　him　kin。　I'm　sure　of　that。　We　were　the　ones　with　the　deeper　subconscious　layer。　We　supplied　the　hate　and　the　fear　…　the　fear　that　Richie　really　would　get　us；　the　way　he　promised　he　would。　We　always　had　more　of　the　dark　stuff　than　Duds。　His　idea　of　being　mean　was　counting　your　crib　backward；　and　that　was　more　in　the　spirit　of　fun　than　anything　else。　Still　。　。　。　do　you　remember　the　time　Pete　pulled　Duddits's　hat　over　his　eyes　and　Duds　walked　into　the　wall？'
　　　　Jonesy　did；　vaguely。　Out　at　the　mall；　that　had　been。　When　they　had　been　young　and　the　mall　had　been　the　place　to　go。　Same　shit；　different　day。　　　　
　　　　'For　quite　awhile　after　that；　Pete　lost　whenever　we　played　the　Duddits　game。　Duddits　always　counted　him　backward；　and　none　of　us　tipped　to　it。　We　probably　thought　it　was　just　coincidence；　but　in　light　of　everything　I　know　now；　I　tend　to　doubt　that。'
　　　　'You　think　even　Duddits　knew　payback's　a　bitch？'
　　　　'He　learned　it　from　us；　Jonesy。'
　　　　'Duddits　gave　Mr　Gray　his　foothold。　His　mindhold。'
　　　　'Yeah；　but　he　also　gave　you　a　stronghold　…　a　place　where　you　could　hide　from　Mr　Gray。　Don't　forget　that。'