sk.dreamcatcher-第31部分

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ke　jackstraws。　The　Beav　looked　at　them；　then　looked　up　at　Jonesy。　There　were　tears　standing　in　his　eyes。　'Like　Duddits；　man；'　he　said。
　　　　'What　in　God's　name　are　you　talking　about？'
　　　　'Don't　you　remember？　He　was　almost　naked；　too。　Fuckers　snatched　off　his　shirt　and　his　pants；　didn't　leave　him　nothing　but　his　underpants。　But　we　saved　him。'　Beaver　nodded　vigorously；　as　if　Jonesy　…　or　some　deep　and　doubtful　part　of　himself　…　had　scoffed　at　this　idea。　　　
　　　　Jonesy　scoffed　at　nothing；　although　McCarthy　didn't　remind　him　in　the　slightest　of　Duddits。　He　kept　seeing　McCarthy　going　over　sideways　into　the　tub；　his　orange　hat　falling　off；　the　fatty　deposits　on　his　chest　（the　tits　of　easy　living；　Henry　called　them　whenever　he　saw　a　pair　underneath　some　guy's　polo　shirt）　wobbling。　And　then　his　ass　turning　up　to　the　light　…　that　harsh　fluorescent　light　that　kept　no　secrets　but　blabbed　everything　in　a　droning　monotone。　That　perfect　white　man's　ass；　hairless；　just　starting　to　turn　flabby　and　settle　down　on　the　backs　of　the　thighs；　he　had　seen　a　thousand　like　it　in　the　various　locker　rooms　where　he　had　dressed　and　showered；　was　developing　one　himself　（or　had　been　until　the　guy　had　run　him　over；　changing　the　physical　configuration　of　his　backside　perhaps　forever）；　only　he　had　never　seen　one　like　McCarthy's　was　now；　one　that　looked　like　something　inside　had　fired　a　flare　or　a　shotgun　shell　in　order　to　…　　to　what？
　　　　There　was　another　hollow　splash　from　the　toilet。　The　Ed　bumped　up。　It　was　as　good　an　answer　as　any。　In　order　to　get　out；　of　course。
　　　　In　order　to　get　out。
　　　　'Sit　on　that；'　Jonesy　told　Beaver。
　　　　'Huh？'
　　　　'Sit　on　it！'　Jonesy　almost　shouted　it　this　time　and　Beaver　sat　down　on　the　closed　Ed　in　a　hurry；　looking　startled。　In　the　no…secrets；　flat…toned　light　of　the　fluorescents；　Beaver's　skin　looked　as　white　as　freshly　turned　clay　and　every　fleck　of　black　stubble　was　a　mole。　His　lips　were　purple。　Above　his　head　was　the　old　joke　sign：　LAMAR'S　THINKIN　PLACE。　Beav's　blue　eyes　were　wide　and　terrified。
　　　　'I'm　sittin；　Jonesy　…　see？'
　　　　'Yeah。　I'm　sorry；　Beav。　But　you　just　sit　there；　all　right？　Whatever　he　had　inside　him；　it's　trapped。　Got　nowhere　to　go　but　the　septic　tank。　I'll　be　back…'　　　　
　　　　'Where　you　goin？　Cause　I　don't　want　you　to　leave　me　sittin　in　the　shithouse　next　to　a　dead　man；　Jonesy。　If　we　both　run…'
　　　　'We're　not　running；'　Jonesy　said　grimly。　'This　is　our　place；　and　we're　not　running。'　Which　sounded　noble　but　left　out　at　least　one　aspect　of　the　situation：　he　was　mostly　just　afraid　the　thing　that　was　now　in　the　toilet　might　be　able　to　run　faster　than　they　could。　Or　squiggle　faster。　Or　something。　Clips　from　a　hundred　horror　films　…　Parasite；　Alien；　They　Came　from　Within　…　ran　through　his　mind　at　super…speed。　Carla　wouldn't　go　to　the　movies　with　him　when　one　of　those　was　playing；　and　she　made　him　go　downstairs　and　use　the　TV　in　his　study　when　he　brought　them　home　on　tape。　But　one　of　those　movies　…　something　he'd　seen　in　one　of　them　…just　might　save　their　lives。　Jonesy　glanced　at　the　reddish…gold　mildewy　stuff　growing　on　McCarthy's　bloody　handprint。　Save　their　lives　from　the　thing　in　the　toilet；　anyway。　The　mildewy　stuff　。　。　。　who　in　God's　name　knew？
　　　　The　thing　in　the　bowl　leaped　again；　thudding　the　underside　of　the　lid；　but　Beaver　had　no　trouble　holding　the　lid　down。　That　was　good。　Maybe　whatever　it　was　would　drown　in　there；　although　Jonesy　didn't　see　how　they　could　count　on　that；　it　had　been　living　inside　McCarthy；　hadn't　it？　It　had　been　living　inside　old　Mr　Behold…I…stand…at…the…door…and…knock　for　quite　some　time；　maybe　the　whole　four　days　he'd　been　lost　in　the　woods。　It　had　slowed　the　growth　of　McCarthy's　beard；　it　seemed；　and　caused　a　few　of　his　teeth　to　fall　out；　it　had　also　caused　McCarthy　to　pass　gas　that　probably　couldn't　have　gone　ignored　even　in　the　politest　of　polite　society　…　farts　like　poison　gas；　to　be　perfectly　blunt　about　it　…　but　the　thing　itself　had　apparently　been　fine　。　。　。　lively　。　。　。　growing　。　。　。
　　　　Jonesy　had　a　sudden　vivid　image　of　a　wriggling　white　tapeworm　emerging　from　a　pile　of　raw　meat。　His　gorge　rose　with　a　liquid　chugging　sound。
　　　　'Jonesy？'　Beaver　started　to　get　up。　He　looked　more　alarmed　than　ever。
　　　　'Beaver；　sit　back　down！'
　　　　Beaver　did；　just　in　time。　The　thing　in　the　toilet　leaped　and　hit　the　underside　of　the　lid　with　a　hard；　hollow　rap。　Behold；　I　stand　at　the　door　and　knock。
　　　　'Remember　that　Lethal　Weapon　movie　where　Mel　Gibson's　partner　didn't　dare　to　get　off　the　crapper？'　Beaver　said。　He　smiled；　but　his　voice　was　dry　and　his　eyes　were　terrified。　'This　is　like　that；　isn't　it？'
　　　　'No；'　Jonesy　said；　'because　nothing's　going　to　blow　up。　Besides；　I'm　not　Mel　Gibson　and　you're　too　fucking　white　to　be　Danny　Glover。　Listen；　Beav。　I'm　going　out　to　the　shed…'
　　　　'Huh…uh；　no　way；　don't　leave　me　here　all　by　myself…'
　　　　'Shut　up　and　listen。　There's　friction　tape　out　there；　isn't　there？'　　　　
　　　　'Yeah；　hangin　on　a　nail；　at　least　I　think…'
　　　　'Hanging　on　a　nail；　that's　right。　Near　the　paint…cans；　I　think。　A　big　fat　roll　of　it。　I'm　going　to　get　that；　then　e　back　and　tape　the　Ed　down。　Then…'
　　　　It　leaped　again；　furiously；　as　if　it　could　hear　and　understand。　Well；　how　do　we　know　it　can't？　Jonesy　thought。　When　it　hit　the　bottom　of　the　lid　with　a　hard；　vicious　thud；　the　Beav　winced。
　　　　'Then　we're　getting　out　of　here；'　Jonesy　finished。
　　　　'On　the　Cat？'
　　　　Jonesy　nodded；　although　he　had　in　fact　forgotten　all　about　the　snowmobile。　'Yeah；　on　the　Cat。　And　we'll　hook　up　with　Henry　and　Pete…'
　　　　The　Beav　was　shaking　his　head。　'Quarantine；　that's　what　the　guy　in　the　helicopter　said。　That　must　be　why　they　haven't　e　back　yet；　don't　you　think？　They　musta　got　held　out　by　the…'
　　　　Thud！
　　　　Beaver　winced。　So　did　Jonesy。
　　　　'…by　the　quarantine。'
　　　　'That　could　be；'　Jonesy　said。　'But　listen；　Beav…　I'd　rather　be　quarantined　with　Pete　and　Henry　than　here　with　。　。　。　than　here；　wouldn't　you？'
　　　　'Let's　just　flush　it　down；'　Beaver　said。　'How　about　that？'　Jonesy　shook　his　head。
　　　　'Why　not？'
　　　　'Because　I　saw　the　hole　it　made　getting　out；'　Jonesy　said；　'and　so　did　you。　I　don't　know　what　it　is；　but　we're　not　going　to　get　rid　of　it　just　by　pushing　a　handle。　It's　too　big。'
　　　　'Fuck。'　Beaver　slammed　the　heel　of　his　hand　against　his　forehead。
　　　　Jonesy　nodded。
　　　　'All　right；　Jonesy。　Go　get　the　tape。'
　　　　In　the　doorway；　Jonesy　paused　and　looked　back。　'And　Beaver　。。。　？'
　　　　The　Beav　raised　his　eyebrows。
　　　　'Sit　tight；　buddy…'
　　　　Beaver　started　to　giggle。　So　did　Jonesy。　They　looked　at　each　other；　Jonesy　in　the　doorway　and　the　Beav　sitting　on　the　closed　toilet　seat；　snorting　laughter。　Then　Jonesy　burned　across　the　big　central　room　（still　giggling　…　sit　tight；　the　more　he　thought　about　it　the　funnier　it　seemed）　toward　the　kitchen　door。　He　felt　hot　and　feverish；　both　horrified　and　hilarious。　Sit　tight。　Jesus…Christ…Bananas。


2

Beav　could　hear　Jonesy　giggling　all　the　way　across　the　room；　still　giggling　when　he　went　out　the　door。　In　spite　of　everything；　Beav　was　glad　to　hear　that　sound。　It　had　already　been　a　bad　year　for　Jonesy；　getting　run　over　the　way　he　had　…　for　awhile　there　at　first　they'd　all　thought　he　was　going　to　step　out；　and　that　was　awful；　poor　old　Jonesy　wasn't　yet　thirty…eight。　Bad　year　for　Pete；　who'd　been　drinking　too　much；　a　bad　year　for　Henry；　who　sometimes　got　a　spooky　absence　about　him　that　Beav　didn't　understand　and　didn't　like　。　。　。　and　now　he　guessed　you　could　say　it　had　been　a　bad　year　for　Beaver　Clarendon；　as　well。　Of　course　this　was　only　one　day　in　three　hundred　and　sixty…five；　but　you　just　didn't　get　up　in　the　morning　thinking　that　by　afternoon　there'd　be　a　dead　guy　laying　naked　in　the　tub　and　you'd　be　sitting　on　a　closed　toilet　seat　in　order　to　keep　something　you　hadn't　even　seen　from…
　　　　'Nope；'　Beaver　said。　'Not　going　there；　okay？　Just　not　going　there。'
　　　　And　he　didn't　have　to。　Jonesy　would　be　back　with　the　friction　tape　in　a　minute　or　two；　three　minutes　tops。　The　question　was　where　did　he　want　to　go　until　Jonesy　returned？　Where　could　he　go　and　feel　good？
　　　　Duddits；　that　was　where。　Thinking　about　Duddits　always　made　him　feel　good。　And　Roberta；　thinking　about　her　was　good；　too。　Undoubtedly。
　　　　Beav　smiled；　remembering　the　little　woman　in　the　yellow　dress　who'd　been　standing　at　the　end　of　her　walk　on　Maple　Lane　that　day。　The　smile　widened　as　he　remembered　how　she'd　caught　sight　of　them。　She　had　called　her　boy　that　same　thing。　She　had　called　him。


3

'Duddits！'　she　cries；　a　little　graying　wren　of　a　woman　in　a　flowered　print　dress；　then　runs　up　the　sidewalk　toward　them。
　　　　Duddits　has　been　walking　contentedly　with　his　new　friends；　chattering　away　six　licks　to　the　minute；　holding　his　Scooby…Doo　lunchbox　in　his　left　hand　and　Jonesy's　hand　in　his　right；　swinging　it　cheerfully　back　and　forth。　His　gabble　seems　to　consist　almost　entirely　of　open　vowel…sounds。　The　thing　which　amazes　Beaver　the　most　about　it　is　how　much　of　it　he　understands。
　　　　Now；　catching　sight　of　the　graying　birdie…woman；　Duddits　lets　go　of　Jonesy's　hand　and　runs　toward　her；　both　of　them　running；　and　it　reminds　Beaver　of　some　musical　about　a　bunch　of　singers；　the　Von　Cripps　or　Von　Crapps　or　something　like　that。　'Ah…mee；　Ah…mee！'　Duddits　shouts　exuberantly　…　Mommy！　Mommy！
　　　　'Where　have　you　been？　Where　have　you　been；　you　bad　boy；　you　bad　old　Duddits！'
　　　　They　e　together　and　Duddits　is　so　much　bigger　…　two　or　three　inches　taller；　too　…　that　Beaver　winces；　expecting　the　birdie…woman　to　be　flattened　the　way　Coyote　is　always　getting　flattened　in　the　Roadrunner　cartoons。　Instead；　she　picks　him　up　and　swings　him　around；　his　sneakered　feet　flying　out　behind　him；　his　mouth　stretched　halfway　up　to　his　ears　in　an　expression　of　joyful　ecstasy。
　　　　'I　was　just　about　to　go　in　and　call　the　police；　you　bad　old　late　thing；　you　bad　old　late　D…'
　　　　She　sees　Beaver　and　his　friends　and　sets　her　son　down　on　his　feet。　Her　smile　of　relief　is　gone；　she　is　solemn　as　she　steps　toward　them　over　some　little　girl's　hopscotch　grid　…　crude　as　it　is；　Beav　thinks；　even　that　will　always　be　beyond　Duddits。　The　tears　on　her　checks　gleam　in　the　glow　of　the　sun　that　has　finally　broken　through。
　　　　'Uh…oh；'　Pete　says。　'We're　gonna　catch　it。'
　　　　'Be　cool；'　Henry　says；　speaking　low　and　fas