sk.dreamcatcher-第15部分

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s　beer　onto　the　floor　and　yelled；　'Whoa　…　fuck；　watch　out！'
　　　　Henry　let　off　on　the　gas　until　he　felt　the　Scout　start　to　straighten　out；　then　zapped　the　go…pedal　again；　deliberately　too　fast　and　too　hard。　The　Scout　went　into　another　skid；　this　time　widdershins　to　the　first；　and　Pete　yelled　again。　Henry　let　up　once　more　and　the　Scout　thumped　back　into　the　ruts　and　once　again　ran　smoothly；　as　if　on　rails。　One　positive　to　deciding　to　end　your　life；　it　seemed；　was　no　longer　sweating　the　small　stuff。　The　lights　cut　through　the　white　and　shifting　day；　full　of　a　billion　dancing　snowflakes；　not　one　of　them　the　same；　if　you　believed　the　conventional　wisdom。
　　　　Pete　picked　up　his　beer　（only　a　little　had　spilled）；　and　patted　his　chest。　'Aren't　you　going　a　little　fast？'
　　　　'Not　even　close；'　Henry　said；　and　then；　as　if　the　skid　had　never　occurred　（it　had）　or　interrupted　his　train　of　thought　（it　hadn't）；　he　went　on；　'Group　hysteria　is　most　mon　in　the　very　old　and　the　very　young。　It's　a　well…documented　phenomenon　in　both　my　field　and　that　of　the　sociology　heathens　who　live　next　door。'
　　　　Henry　glanced　down　and　saw　he　was　doing　thirty…five；　which　was；　in　fact；　a　little　fast　for　these　conditions。　He　slowed　down。　'Better？'
　　　　Pete　nodded。　'Don't　get　me　wrong；　you're　a　great　driver；　but　man；　it's　snowing。　Also；　we　got　the　supplies。'　He　jerked　his　thumb　back　over　his　shoulder　at　the　two　bags　and　two　boxes　in　the　back　seat。　'In　addition　to　hot　dogs；　we　got　the　last　three　boxes　of　Kraft　Macaroni　and　Cheese。　Beaver　can't　live　without　that　stuff；　you　know。'
　　　　'I　know；'　Henry　said。　'I　like　it；　too。　Remember　those　stories　about　devil…worship　in　Washington　State；　the　ones　that　made　the　press　in　the　mid…nineties？　They　were　traced　back　to　several　old　people　living　with　their　children　…　grandchildren；　in　one　case　…　in　two　small　towns　south　of　Seattle。　The　mass　reports　of　sexual　abuse　in　daycare　centers　apparently　began　with　teenage　girls　working　as　part…time　aides　crying　wolf　at　the　same　time　in　Delaware　and　California。　Possibly　coincidence；　or　possibly　the　time　was　simply　ripe　for　such　stories　to　gain　credence　and　these　girls　caught　a　wave　out　of　the　air。'
　　　　How　smoothly　the　words　rolled　out　of　his　mouth；　almost　as　if　they　mattered。　Henry　talked；　the　man　beside　him　listened　with　dumb　admiration；　and　no　one　（certainly　not　Pete）　could　have　surmised　that　he　was　thinking　of　the　shotgun；　the　rope；　the　exhaust　pipe；　the　pills。　His　head　was　full　of　tape…loops；　that　was　all。　And　his　tongue　was　the　cassette　player。
　　　　'In　Salem；'　Henry　went　on；　'the　old　men　and　the　young　girls　bined　their　hysteria；　and　voilá；　you　have　the　Salem　Witch　Trials。'
　　　　'I　saw　that　movie　with　Jonesy；'　Pete　said。　'Vincent　Price　was　in　it。　Scared　the　shit　out　of　me。'
　　　　'I'm　sure；'　Henry　said；　and　laughed。　For　one　wild　moment　he'd　thought　Pete　was　talking　about　The　Crucible。　'And　when　are　hysterical　ideas　most　likely　to　gain　credence？　Once　the　crops　are　in　and　the　bad　weather　closes　down；　of　course　…　then　there's　time　for　telling　stories　and　making　mischief　In　Wenatchee；　Washington；　it's　devil…worship　and　child　sacrifices　in　the　woods。　In　Salem　it　was　witches。　And　in　the　Jefferson　Tract；　home　of　the　one　and　only　Gosselin's　Market；　it's　strange　lights　in　the　sky；　missing　hunters；　and　troop　maneuvers。　Not　to　mention　weird　red　stuff　growing　on　the　trees。'
　　　　'I　don't　know　about　the　helicopters　and　the　soldiers；　but　enough　people　have　seen　those　lights　so　they're　having　a　special　town　meeting。　Old　Man　Gosselin　told　me　so　while　you　were　getting　the　canned　stuff。　Also；　those　folks　over　Kineo　way　are　really　missing。　That　ain't　hysteria。'
　　　　'Four　quick　points；'　Henry　said。　'First；　you　can't　have　a　town　meeting　in　the　Jefferson　Tract　because　there's　no　town　…　even　Kineo's　just　an　unincorporated　township　with　a　name。　Second；　the　meeting　will　be　held　around　Old　Man　Gosselin's　Franklin　stove　and　half　those　attending　will　be　shot　on　peppermint　schnapps　or　coffee　brandy。'
　　　　Pete　snickered。
　　　　'Third；　what　else　have　they　got　to　do？　And　fourth　…　this　concerns　the　hunters　…　they　probably　either　got　tired　of　it　and　went　home；　or　they　all　got　drunk　and　decided　to　get　rich　at　the　rez　casino　up　in　Carrabassett。'
　　　　'You　think；　huh？'　Pete　looked　crestfallen；　and　Henry　felt　a　great　wave　of　affection　for　him。　He　reached　over　and　patted　Pete's　knee。
　　　　'Never　fear；'　he　said。　'The　world　is　full　of　strange　things。'　If　the　world　had　really　been　full　of　strange　things；　Henry　doubted　he　would　have　been　so　eager　to　leave　it；　but　if　there　was　one　thing　a　psychiatrist　knew　how　to　do　（other　than　write　prescriptions　for　Prozac　and　Paxil　and　Amblen；　that　was）；　it　was　tell　lies。
　　　　'Four　hunters　all　disappearing　at　the　same　time　seems　pretty　strange　to　me；　all　right。'
　　　　'Not　a　bit；'　Henry　said；　and　laughed。　'One　would　be　odd。　Two　would　be　strange。　Four？　They　went　off　together；　depend　on　it。'
　　　　'How　far　are　we　from　Hole　in　the　Wall；　Henry？'　Which；　when　translated；　meant　Do　I　have　time　for　another　beer？
　　　　Henry　had　zeroed　the　Scout's　tripmeter　at　Gosselin's；　an　old　habit　that　went　back　to　his　days　working　for　the　State　of　Massachusetts；　where　the　deal　had　been　twelve　cents　a　mile　and　all　the　psychotic　geriatrics　you　could　write　up。　The　mileage　between　the　store　and　the　Hole　was　easy　enough　to　remember：　22。2。　The　odometer　currently　read　12。7；　which　meant…
　　　　'Look　out！'　Pete　shouted；　and　Henry　snapped　his　gaze　hack　to　the　windshield。
　　　　The　Scout　had　just　topped　the　steep　rise　of　a　tree…covered　ridge。　The　snow　here　was　thicker　than　ever；　but　Henry　was　running　with　the　high　beams　on　and　clearly　saw　the　person　sitting　in　the　road　about　a　hundred　feet　ahead　…　a　person　wearing　a　duffel　coat；　an　orange　vest　that　blew　backward　like　Superman's　cape　in　the　strengthening　wind；　and　one　of　those　Russian　fur　hats。　Orange　ribbons　had　been　attached　to　the　hat　and　they　also　blew　back　in　the　wind；　reminding　Henry　of　the　streamers　you　sometimes　saw　strung　over　used…car　lots。　The　guy　was　sitting　in　the　middle　of　the　road　like　an　Indian　that　wants　to　smoke…um　peace　pipe；　and　he　did　not　move　when　the　headlights　struck　him。　For　one　moment　Henry　saw　the　sitting　figure's　eyes；　wide　open　but　still；　so　still　and　bright　and　blank；　and　he　thought：　That's　how　my　eyes　would　look　if　I　didn't　guard　them　so　closely。
　　　　There　was　no　time　to　stop；　not　with　the　snow。　Henry　twisted　the　wheel　to　the　right　and　felt　the　thump　as　the　Scout　came　out　of　the　ruts　again。　He　caught　another　glimpse　of　the　white；　still　face　and　had　time　to　think；　Why；　goddam！　It's　a　woman。
　　　　Once　out　of　the　ruts　the　Scout　began　to　skid　again　at　once。　This　time　Henry　turned　against　it；　deliberately　snowplowing　the　wheels　to　deepen　the　skid；　knowing　without　even　thinking　about　it　（there　was　no　time　to　think）　that　it　was　the　road…sitter's　only　chance。　And　he　didn't　rate　it　much　of　one；　at　that。
　　　　Pete　screamed；　and　from　thy　corner　of　his　eye；　Henry　saw　him　raise　his　hands　in　front　of　his　face；　palms　out　in　a　warding…off　gesture。　The　Scout　tried　to　go　broadside　and　now　Henry　spun　the　wheel　back；　trying　to　control　the　skid　just　enough　so　that　the　rear　end　wouldn't　smash　the　road…sitter's　face　backward　into　her　skull。　The　wheel　spun　with　greasy；　giddy　ease　under　his　gloved　hands。　For　perhaps　three　seconds　the　Scout　shot　down　the　snow…covered　Deep　Cut　Road　at　a　forty…five…degree　angle；　a　thing　belonging　partly　to　Henry　Devlin　and　partly　to　the　storm。　Snow　flew　up　and　around　it　in　a　fine　spray；　the　headlights　painted　the　snow…slumped　pines　on　the　left　side　of　the　road　in　a　pair　of　moving　spots。　Three　seconds；　not　long；　but　just　long　enough。　He　saw　the　figure　pass　by　as　if　she　were　moving　instead　of　them；　except　she　never　moved；　not　even　when　the　rusty　edge　of　the　Scout's　bumper　flirted　past　her　with　perhaps　no　more　than　an　inch　of　snowy　air　between　it　and　her　face。
　　　　Missed　you！　Henry　exulted。　Missed　you；　you　bitch！　Then　the　last　thin　thread　of　control　broke　and　the　Scout　broached　broadside。　There　was　a　'udden'ng　vibration　as　the　wheels　found　the　ruts　again；　only　crosswise　this　time。　It　was　still　trying　to　turn　all　the　way　around；　swapping　ends　…　Frontsies…backsies！　they　used　to　cry　when　in　line　back　in　grammar　school　…　and　then　it　hit　a　buried　rock　or　perhaps　a　small　fallen　tree　with　a　terrific　thud　and　rolled　over；　first　on　the　passenger　side；　the　windows　over　there　disintegrating　into　glittering　crumbs；　then　over　onto　the　roof　One　side　of　Henry's　seatbelt　broke；　spilling　him　onto　the　roof　on　his　left　shoulder。　His　balls　thumped　against　the　steering　column；　producing　instant　leaden　pain。　The　turnsignal　stalk　broke　off　against　his　thigh　and　he　felt　blood　begin　to　run　at　once；　soaking　his　jeans。　The　claret；　as　the　old　boxing　radio　announcers　used　to　call　it；　as　in　Look　out；　folks；　the　claret　has　begun　to　flow。　Pete　was　yelling　or　screaming　or　both。
　　　　For　several　seconds　the　overturned　Scout's　engine　continued　to　run；　then　gravity　did　its　work　and　the　motor　died；　Now　it　was　just　an　overturned　hulk　in　the　road；　wheels　still　spinning；　lights　shining　at　the　snow…loaded　trees　on　the　left　side　of　the　road。　One　of　them　went　out；　but　the　other　continued　to　shine。


2

Henry　had　talked　with　Jonesy　a　lot　about　his　accident　（listened；　really；　therapy　was　creative　listening）；　and　he　knew　that　Jonesy　had　no　memory　of　the　actual　collision。　As　far　as　Henry　could　tell；　he　himself　never　lost　consciousness　following　the　Scout's　flip；　and　the　chain　of　recollection　remained　intact。　He　remembered　fumbling　for　the　seatbelt　clasp；　wanting　to　be　all　the　way　free　of　the　fucking　thing；　while　Pete　bellowed　that　his　leg　was　broken；　his　cocksucking　leg　was　broken。　He　remembered　the　steady　whick…thump；　whick…thump　of　the　windshield　wipers　and　the　glow　of　the　dashlights；　which　were　now　up　instead　of　down。　He　found　the　seatbelt　clasp；　lost　it；　found　it　again；　and　pushed　it。　The　seatbelt's　lap…strap　released　him　and　he　thumped　awkwardly　against　the　roof；　shattering　the　domelight's　plastic　cover。
　　　　He　flailed　with　his　hand；　found　the　doorhandle；　couldn't　move　it。
　　　　'My　leg！　Oh　man；　my　fucking　leg！'
　　　　'Shut　up　about　it；'　Henry　said。　'Your　leg's　okay。'　As　if　he　knew。　He　found　the　doorhandle　again；　yanked；　and　there　was　nothing。　Then　he　realized　why　…　he　was　upside　down　and