sk.dreamcatcher-第60部分

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　happening　…　but　it　was　still　fast。　Spookily　fast。
　　　　He　grabbed　Melrose　by　the　shoulder　and　peered　into　the　cook　third's　contorted　face　with　great　intensity。　'Stop　that　blatting；　laddie…buck。'
　　　　Melrose　carried　on　blatting。　His　foot　was　gushing；　and　the　part　with　the　toes　on　it　looked　to　Pearly　as　if　it　might　be　severed　fi7om　the　part　with　the　heel　on　it。　Pearly's　world　went　gray　and　started　to　lose　focus。　With　all　the　force　of　his　will；　he　forced　that　grayness　away。　If　he　passed　out　now；　Christ　alone　knew　what　Kurtz　might　do　to　him。　Perlmutter　had　heard　stories　and　had　dismissed　ninety　per　cent　of　them　out　of　hand；　thinking　they　were　either　exaggerations　or　Kurtz…planted　propaganda　designed　to　enhance　his　loony…crafty　image。
　　　　Now　I　know　better；　Perlmutter　thought。　This　isn't　myth…making；　this　is　the　myth。
　　　　Kurtz；　moving　with　a　finicky；　almost　surgical　precision；　placed　the　barrel　of　his　pistol　against　the　center　of　Melrose's　cheese…white　forehead。
　　　　'Squelch　that　womanish　bawling；　buck；　or　I'll　squelch　it　for　you。　These　are　hollow…points；　as　I　think　even　a　dimly　lit　American　like　yourself　must　now　surely　know。'
　　　　Melrose　somehow　choked　the　screams　off；　turned　them　into　low；　in…the…throat　sobs。　This　seemed　to　satisfy　Kurtz。
　　　　'Just　so　you　can　hear　me；　buck；　You　have　to　hear　me；　because　you　have　to　spread　the　word。　I　believe；　praise　God；　that　your　foot；　what's　left　of　it；　will　articulate　the　basic　concept；　but　it's　your　own　sacred　mouth　that　must　share　the　details。　So　are　you　listening；　bucko？　Are　you　listening　for　the　details？'
　　　　Still　sobbing；　his　eyes　starting　from　his　face　like　blue　glass　balls；　Melrose　managed　a　nod。
　　　　Quick　as　a　striking　snake；　Kurtz's　head　turned　and　Perlmutter　clearly　saw　the　man's　face。　The　madness　there　was　stamped　into　the　features　as　clearly　as　a　warrior's　tattoos。　At　that　moment　everything　Perlmutter　had　ever　believed　about　his　OIC　fell　down。
　　　　'What　about　you；　bucko？　Listening？　Because　you're　a　messenger；　too。　All　of　us　are　messengers。'
　　　　Pearly　nodded。　The　door　opened　and　he　saw；　with　unutterable　relief；　that　the　newer　was　Owen　Underhill。　Kurtz's　eyes　flew　to　him。
　　　　'Owen！　Me　foine　bucko！　Another　witness！　Another；　praise　God；　another　messenger！　Are　you　listening？　Will　you　carry　the　word　hence　from　this　happy　place？'
　　　　Expressionless　as　a　poker…player　in　a　high…stakes　game；　Underhill　nodded。
　　　　'Good！　Good！'
　　　　Kurtz　returned　his　attention　to　Melrose。　　　　
　　　　'I　quote　from　the　Manual　of　Affairs；　Cook's　Third　Melrose；　Part　16；　Section　4；　Paragraph　3　…　〃Use　of　inappropriate　epithets；　whether　racial；　ethnic；　or　gender…based；　are　counterproductive　to　morale　and　run　counter　to　armed　service　protocol。　When　use　is　proven；　the　user　will　be　punished　immediately　by　court…martial　or　in　the　field　by　appropriate　mand　personnel；〃　end　quote。　Appropriate　mand　personnel；　that's　me；　user　of　inappropriate　epithets；　that's　you。　Do　you　understand；　Melrose？　Do　you　get　the　drift…ola？'
　　　　Melrose；　blubbering；　tried　to　speak；　but　Kurtz　cut　him　off。　In　the　doorway　Owen　Underhill　continued　to　stand　pletely　still　as　the　snow　melted　on　his　shoulders　and　ran　down　the　transparent　bulb　of　his　mask　like　sweat。　His　eyes　remained　fixed　on　Kurtz。
　　　　'Now；　Cook's　Third　Melrose；　what　I　have　quoted　to　you　in　the　presence　of　these；　these　praise　God　witnesses；　is　called　〃an　order　of　conduct〃；　and　it　means　no　spicktalk；　no　mockietalk；　no　krauttalk　or　redskin　talk。　It　also　means　as　is　most　applicable　in　the　current　situation　no　space…niggertalk；　do　you　understand　that？'
　　　　Melrose　tried　to　nod；　then　reeled；　on　the　verge　of　passing　out。　Perlmutter　grabbed　him　by　the　shoulder　and　got　him　straight　again；　praying　that　Melrose　wouldn't　conk　before　this　was　over。　God　only　knew　what　Kurtz　might　do　to　Melrose　if　Melrose　had　the　temerity　to　turn　out　the　lights　before　Kurtz　was　done　reading　him　the　riot　act。
　　　　'We　are　going　to　wipe　these　invading　assholes　out；　my　friend；　and　if　they　ever　e　back　to　Terra　Firma；　we　are　going　to　rip　off　their　collective　gray　head　and　shit　down　their　collective　gray　neck；　if　they　persist　we　will　use　their　own　technology；　which　we　are　already　well　on　our　way　to　grasping；　against　them；　returning　to　their　place　of　origin　in　their　own　ships　or　ships　like　them　built　by　General　Electric　and　DuPont　and　praise　God　Microsoft　and　once　there　we　will　burn　their　cities　or　hives　or　goddam　anthills；　whatever　they　live　in；　we　'II　napalm　their　amber　waves　of　grain　and　nuke　their　purple　mountains'　majesty；　praise　God；　Allah　akhbar；　we　will　pour　the　fiery　piss　of　America　into　their　lakes　and　oceans　。　。　。　but　we　will　do　it　in　a　way　that　is　proper　and　appropriate　and　without　regard　to　race　or　gender　or　ethnicity　or　religious　preference。　We're　going　to　do　it　because　they　came　to　the　wrong　neighborhood　and　knocked　on　the　wrong　fucking　door。　This　is　not　Germany　in　1938　or　Oxford　Mississippi　in　1963。　Now；　Mr　Melrose；　do　you　think　you　can　spread　that　message？'
　　　　Melrose's　eyes　rolled　up　to　the　wet　whites　and　his　knees　unhinged。　Perlmutter　once　more　grabbed　his　shoulder　in　an　effort　to　hold　him　up；　but　it　was　a　lost　cause　this　time；　down　Melrose　went。
　　　　'Pearly；'　Kurtz　whispered；　and　when　those　burning　blue　eyes　fell　on　him；　Perlmutter　thought　he　had　never　been　so　frightened　in　his　life。　His　bladder　was　a　hot　and　heavy　bag　inside　him；　wanting　only　to　squirt　its　contents　into　his　coverall。　He　felt　that　if　Kurtz　saw　a　dark　patch　spreading　on　his　adjutant's　crotch；　Kurtz　might　shoot　him　out　of　hand；　in　his　present　mood　。　。　。　but　that　didn't　seem　to　help　the　situation。　In　fact；　it　made　it　worse。
　　　　'Yes；　s　。　。　。　boss？'
　　　　'Will　he　spread　the　word？　Will　he　be　a　good　messenger？　Do　you　reckon　he　took　enough　in　to　do　that；　or　was　he　too　concerned　with　his　damned　old　foot？'
　　　　'I　。　。　。　I　。　。　。'　In　the　doorway；　he　saw　Underhill　nod　at　him　almost　imperceptibly；　and　Pearly　took　heart。　'Yes；　boss　…　I　think　he　heard　you　five…by。'
　　　　Kurtz　seemed　first　surprised　by　Perlmutter's　vehemence；　then　gratified。　He　turned　to　Underhill。　'What　about　you；　Owen？　Do　you　think　he'll　spread　the　word？'
　　　　'Uh…huh；'　Underhill　said。　'If　you　get　him　to　the　infirmary　before　he　bleeds　to　death　on　your　rug。'
　　　　Kurtz's　mouth　turned　up　at　the　ers　and　he　barked；　'See　to　that；　Pearly；　will　you？'
　　　　'Right　now；'　Perlmutter　said；　starting　toward　the　door。　Once　past　Kurtz；　he　gave　Underhill　a　look　of　fervent　gratitude　which　Underhill　either　missed　or　chose　not　to　acknowledge。
　　　　'Double…time；　Mr　Perlmutter。　Owen；　I　want　to　talk　to　you　mano　a　mano；　as　the　Irish　say。'　He　stepped　over　Melrose's　body　without　looking　down　at　it　and　walked　briskly　into　the　kitchenette。　'Coffee？　Freddy　made　it；　so　I　can't　swear　it's　drinkable　。　。　。　no；　I　can't　swear；　but　。　。　。'
　　　　'Coffee　would　be　good；'　Owen　Underhill　said。　'You　pour　and　I'll　try　to　stop　this　fellow's　bleeding。'
　　　　Kurtz　stood　by　the　Mr　Coffee　on　the　counter　and　gave　Underhill　a　look　of　darkly　brilliant　doubt。　'Do　you　really　think　that's　necessary？'　That　was　where　Perlmutter　went　out。　Never　before　in　his　life　had　stepping　into　a　storm　felt　so　much　like　an　escape。


4

Henry　stood　at　the　fence　（not　touching　the　wire；　he　had　seen　what　happened　when　you　did　that）；　waiting　for　Underhill　…　that　was　his　name；　all　right　…　to　e　back　out　of　what　had　to　be　the　mand　post；　but　when　the　door　opened；　one　of　the　other　fellows　he'd　seen　go　in　came　hustling　out。　Once　down　the　steps；　the　guy　started　running。　The　guy　was　tall；　and　possessed　one　of　those　earnest　faces　Henry　associated　with　middle　management。　Now　the　face　looked　terrified；　and　the　man　almost　fell　before　he　got　fully　into　stride。　Henry　was　rooting　for　that。　　
　　　　The　middle　manager　managed　to　keep　his　balance　after　the　first　ship；　but　halfway　to　a　couple　of　semi　trailers　that　had　been　pushed　together；　his　feet　flew　out　from　beneath　him　and　he　went　on　his　ass。　The　clipboard　he'd　been　carrying　went　sliding　like　a　toboggan　for　leprechauns。
　　　　Henry　held　his　hands　out　and　clapped　as　loudly　as　he　could。　Probably　not　loud　enough　to　be　heard　over　all　the　motors；　so　he　cupped　them　around　his　mouth　and　yelled：　'Way　to　go　shitheels！　Let's　look　at　the　videotape！'
　　　　The　middle　manager　got　up　without　looking　at　him；　retrieved　his　clipboard；　and　ran　on　toward　the　two　semi　trailers。
　　　　There　was　a　group　of　eight　or　nine　guys　standing　by　the　fence　about　twenty　yards　from　Henry。　Now　one　of　them；　a　portly　fellow　in　an　orange　down…filled　parka　that　made　him　look　like　the　Pillsbury　Dough　Boy；　walked　over。
　　　　'I　don't　think　you　should　do　that；　fella。'　He　paused；　then　lowered　his　voice。　'They　shot　my　brother…in…law。'
　　　　Yes。　Henry　saw　it　in　the　man's　head。　The　portly　man's　brother…in…law；　also　portly；　talking　about　his　lawyer；　his　rights；　his　job　with　some　investment　pany　in　Boston。　The　soldiers　nodding；　telling　him　it　was　just　temporary；　the　situation　was　normalizing　and　would　be　straightened　out　by　dawn；　all　the　time　hustling　the　two　overweight　mighty　hunters　toward　the　barn；　which　already　held　a　pretty　good　trawl；　and　all　at　once　the　brother…in…law　had　broken　away；　running　toward　the　motor…pool；　and　boom…boom；　out　go　the　lights。
　　　　The　portly　man　was　telling　Henry　some　of　this；　his　pale　face　earnest　in　the　newly　erected　lights；　and　Henry　interrupted　him。
　　　　'What　do　you　think　they're　going　to　do　to　the　rest　of　us？'　The　portly　man　looked　at　Henry；　shocked；　then　backed　off　a　step；　as　if　he　thought　Henry　might　have　something　contagious。　Quite　funny；　when　you　thought　about　it；　because　they　all　had　something　contagious；　or　at　least　this　team　of　government…funded　cleaners　thought　they　did；　and　in　the　end　it　would　e　to　the　same。
　　　　'You　can't　be　serious；'　the　portly　man　said。　Then；　almost　indulgently：　'This　is　America；　you　know。'
　　　　'Is　it？　You　seeing　a　lot　of　due　process；　are　you？'
　　　　'They're　just　。　。　。　I'm　sure　they're　just　。　。　。'　Henry　waited；　interested；　but　there　was　no　more；　at　least　not　in　this　vein。　'That　was　a　gunshot；　wasn't　it？'　the　portly　man　asked；　'And　I　think　I　heard　some　screaming。'
　　　　From　the　two　pushed…together　trailers　there　emerged　two　hurrying　men　with　a　stretcher　between　them。　Following　them　with　marked　reluctance　came　the　middle　manager；　his　clipboard　once　more　tucked　firmly　beneath　his　arm。
　　　　'I'd　say　yo