sk.dreamcatcher-第83部分

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　　　　Heard　it　and　felt　it。
　　　　'Now！'　Cambry　shouted；　giving　in　and　joining　the　others。　'Now！'
　　　　He　broad…jumped　the　growing　flames　from　the　stove　and　ran；　losing　his　little　mind　in　the　big　one。
　　　　For　all　practical　purposes；　Operation　Blue　Boy　was　over。


11

Three　quarters　of　the　way　across　the　paddock；　Henry　paused；　gasping　for　breath　and　clutching　at　his　hammering　chest。　Behind　him　was　the　pocket　armageddon　he　had　unleashed；　ahead　of　him　he　could　see　nothing　but　darkness。　Fucking　Underhill　had　run　out　on　him；　had…
　　　　Easy；　beautiful　…　easy。
　　　　Lights　flashed　out　twice。　Henry　had　been　looking　in　the　wrong　place；　that　was　all；　Owen　was　parked　a　little　to　the　left　of　the　paddock's　southwest　er。　Now　Henry　could　see　the　Sno…Cat's　boxy　outline　clearly。　From　behind　him　came　screams；　shouts；　orders；　shooting。　Not　as　much　shooting　as　he　would　have　expected；　but　this　was　no　time　to　wonder　why。
　　　　Hurry　up！　Owen　cried。　We　have　to　get　out　of　here！
　　　　I'm　ing　as　fast　as　I　can　…　hold　on。
　　　　Henry　got　moving　again。　Whatever　had　been　in　Owen's　kickstart　pills　was　already　wearing　off；　and　his　feet　felt　heavy。　His　thigh　itched　maddeningly；　and　so　did　his　mouth。　He　could　feel　the　stuff　creeping　over　his　tongue。　It　was　like　a　soft…drink　fizz　that　wouldn't　go　away。
　　　　Owen　had　cut　the　fence　…　both　the　barbed　wire　and　the　smooth。　Now　he　stood　in　front　of　the　Sno…Cat　（it　was　white　to　match　the　snow；　and　it　was　really　no　wonder　Henry　hadn't　seen　it）　with　an　automatic　rifle　propped　against　his　hip；　attempting　to　look　everywhere　at　once。　The　multiple　lights　gave　him　half　a　dozen　shadows；　they　radiated　out　from　his　boots　like　crazy　clock…hands。
　　　　Owen　grabbed　Henry　around　the　shoulders。　You　okay？
　　　　Henry　nodded。　As　Owen　began　to　pull　him　toward　the　Sno…Cat；　there　was　a　loud；　high…pitched　explosion；　as　if　someone　had　just　fired　the　world's　largest　carbine。　Henry　ducked；　stumbled　over　his　own　feet；　and　would　have　fallen　if　Owen　hadn't　held　him　up。
　　　　What…？
　　　　LP　gas。　Gasoline；　too；　maybe。　Look。
　　　　Owen　took　him　by　the　shoulders　and　turned　him　around。　Henry　saw　a　vast　pillar　of　fire　in　the　snowy　Might。　Bits　of　the　store　…　boards；　shingles；　flaming　boxes　of　Cheerios；　burning　rolls　of　toilet　paper　…　rose　into　the　sky。　Some　of　the　soldiers　were　watching　this；　mesmerized。　Others　were　running　for　the　woods。　In　pursuit　of　the　prisoners；　Henry　assumed；　although　he　was　hearing　their　panic　in　his　head　…　Run！　Run！　Now！　Now！　…　and　simply　could　not　credit　it。　Later；　when　he　had　time　to　think；　he　would　understand　that　many　of　the　soldiers　were　also　fleeing。　Now　he　understood　nothing。　Things　were　happening　too　fast。
　　　　Owen　turned　him　around　again　and　boosted　him　into　the　Sno…Cat's　passenger　seat；　pushing　him　past　a　hanging　canvas　flap　that　smelled　strongly　of　motor　oil。　It　was　blessedly　warm　in　the　'Cat's　cab。　A　radio　bolted　to　the　rudimentary　dashboard　chattered　and　squawked。　The　only　thing　Henry　could　make　out　clearly　was　the　panic　in　the　voices。　It　made　him　savagely　happy　…　happier　than　he'd　been　since　the　afternoon　the　four　of　them　had　put　the　fear　of　God　into　Richie　Grenadeau　and　his　bullyrag　buddies。　And　that's　who　was　running　this　operation；　as　far　as　Henry　could　see：　a　bunch　of　grownup　Richie　Grenadeaus；　armed　with　guns　instead　of　dried…up　pieces　of　dogshit。
　　　　There　was　something　between　the　seats；　a　box　with　two　blinking　amber　lights。　As　Henry　bent　over　it；　curious；　Owen　Underhill　snatched　back　the　tarp　hanging　beside　the　driver's　seat　and　flung　himself　into　the　'Cat。　He　was　breathing　hard　and　smiling　as　he　looked　at　the　burning　store。
　　　　'Be　careful　of　that；　brother；'　he　said。　'Mind　the　buttons。'　Henry　lifted　the　box；　which　was　about　the　size　of　Duddits's　beloved　Scooby…Doo　lunchbox。　The　buttons　of　which　Owen　had　spoken　were　under　the　blinking　lights。　'What　are　they？'
　　　　Owen　turned　the　ignition　key　and　the　Sno…Cat's　hot　engine　rumbled　into　immediate　life。　The　transmission　ran　off　a　high　stick；　which　Owen　jammed　into　gear。　Owen　was　still　smiling。　In　the　bright　light　falling　through　the　Sno…Cat's　windshield；　Henry　could　now　see　a　reddish…orange　thread　of　byrus　growing　beneath　each　of　the　man's　eyes；　like　mascara。　There　was　more　in　his　brows。
　　　　'Too　much　light　in　this　place；'　he　said。　'We're　gonna　dial　em　down　a　little。'　He　turned　the　'Cat　in　a　surprisingly　smooth　circle；　it　was　like　being　on　a　motorboat。　Henry　collapsed　back　against　the　seat；　holding　the　box　with　the　blinking　lights　on　his　lap。　He　felt　that　if　he　didn't　walk　again　for　five　years；　that　would　be　about　right。
　　　　Owen　glanced　at　him　as　he　drove　the　Sno…Cat　on　a　diagonal　toward　the　snowbank…enclosed　ditch　that　was　the　Swanny　Pond　Road。　'You　did　it；'　he　said。　'I　doubted　that　you　could；　I　freely　admit　it；　but　you　pulled　the　fucker　off。'
　　　　'I　told　you　…　I'm　a　motivational　master。'　Besides；　he　sent；　most　of　them　really　are　going　to　die　anyway。
　　　　Doesn't　matter。　You　gave　them　a　chance。　And　now…
　　　　There　was　more　shooting；　but　it　wasn't　until　a　bullet　whined　off　the　metal　just　above　their　heads　that　Henry　realized　it　was　aimed　at　them。　There　was　a　brisk　clank　as　another　slug　ricocheted　off　one　of　the　Sno…Cat's　treads　and　Henry　ducked　。　。　。　as　if　that　would　do　any　good。
　　　　Still　smiling；　Owen　pointed　a　gloved　hand　off　to　his　right。　Henry　peered　in　that　direction　as　two　more　slugs　ricocheted　off　the　'Cat's　squat　pillbox　body。　Henry　cringed　both　times；　Owen　seemed　not　even　to　notice。
　　　　Henry　saw　a　cluster　of　trailer…boxes；　some　with　brand　names　like　Sysco　and　Scott　Paper　on　them。　In　front　of　the　trailers　was　a　colony　of　motor　homes；　and　in　front　of　the　biggest；　a　Winnebago　that　looked　to　Henry　like　a　mansion　on　wheels；　were　six　or　seven　men；　all　firing　at　the　Sno…Cat。　Although　the　range　was　long；　the　wind　high；　and　the　snow　still　heavy；　too　many　were　hitting。　Other　men；　some　only　partially　dressed　（one　bruiser　came　sprinting　through　the　snow　displaying　a　bare　chest　that　would　have　looked　at　home　on　a　ic…book　superhero）　were　Joining　the　group。　At　its　center　stood　a　tall　man　with　gray　hair。　Beside　him　was　a　stockier　guy。　As　Henry　watched；　the　skinny　man　raised　his　rifle　and　fired；　seemingly　without　bothering　to　aim。　There　was　a　spanng　sound　and　Henry　sensed　something　pass　right　in　front　of　his　nose；　a　small　wicked　droning　thing。
　　　　Owen　actually　laughed。　'The　skinny　one　with　the　gray　hair　is　Kurtz。　He's　in　charge；　and　can　that　fucker　shoot。'
　　　　More　bullets　spanged　off　the　'Cat's　treads；　its　body。　Henry　sensed　another　of　those　buzzing；　hustling　presences　in　the　cab；　and　suddenly　the　radio　was　silent。　The　distance　between　them　and　the　shooters　clustered　around　the　Winnebago　was　getting　longer；　but　it　didn't　seem　to　matter。　As　far　as　Henry　was　concerned；　all　those　fuckers　could　shoot。　It　was　only　a　matter　of　time　before　one　of　them　took　a　hit　。　。　。　and　yet　Owen　looked　happy。　It　occurred　to　Henry　that　he　had　hooked　up　with　someone　even　more　suicidal　than　himself。
　　　　'The　guy　beside　Kurtz　is　Freddy　Johnson。　Those　Mouseketeers　are　all　Kurtz's　boys；　the　ones　who　were　supposed　to　…　whoops；　look　out！'
　　　　Another　spang；　another　whining　steel　bee　…　between　them；　this　time　…　and　suddenly　the　knob　on　the　transmission　stick　was　gone。　Owen　burst　out　laughing。　'Kurtz！'　he　shouted。　'Bet　you　a　nickel！　Two　years　from　mandatory　retirement　age　and　he　still　shoots　like　Annie　Oakley！'　He　hammered　a　fist　on　the　steering　yoke。　'But　that's　enough。　Fun　is　fun　and　done　is　done。　Turn　out　their　lights；　beautiful。'
　　　　'Huh？'
　　　　Still　grinning；　Owen　jerked　a　thumb　at　the　box　with　the　blinking　amber　bulbs。　The　curved　streaks　of　byrus　under　his　eyes　now　looked　like　warpaint　to　Henry。　'Push　the　buttons；　bub。　Push　the　buttons　and　yank　down　the　shades。'


12

Suddenly　…　it　was　always　sudden；　always　magical　…　the　world　fell　away　and　Kurtz　was　in　the　zone。　The　scream　of　the　blizzard　wind；　the　pelt　of　the　snow；　the　howl　of　the　siren；　the　beat　of　the　buzzer　…　all　gone。　Kurtz　lost　his　awareness　of　Freddy　Johnson　next　to　him　and　the　other　Imperial　Valleys　gathering　around。　He　fixed　on　the　departing　Sno…Cat　and　nothing　else。　He　could　see　Owen　Underhill　in　the　left　seat；　right　through　the　steel　shell　of　the　cab　he　could　see　him；　as　if　he；　Abe　Kurtz；　were　all　at　once　equipped　with　Superman's　X…ray　vision。　The　distance　was　incredibly　long；　but　it　didn't　matter。　The　next　round　he　fired　was　going　right　into　the　back　of　Owen　Underhill's　treacherous；　line…crossing　head。　He　raised　the　rifle；　sighted　down…
　　　　Two　explosions　ripped　the　night；　one　of　them　close　enough　to　hammer　Kurtz　and　his　men　with　the　shockwave。　A　trailer…box　with　the　words　INTEL　INSIDE　printed　on　it　rose　into　the　air；　turned　over；　and　came　down　on　Spago's；　the　cook…tent。　'Holy　Christ！'　one　of　the　men　shouted。
　　　　Not　all　of　the　lights　went　out　…　a　half　hour　wasn't　long　and　Owen　had　had　time　to　equip　only　two　of　the　gennies　with　thermite　charges　（all　the　time　muttering　'Banbury　Cross；　Banbury　Cross；　ride　a　cock　horse　to　Banbury　Cross'　under　his　breath）；　but　suddenly　the　fleeing　Sno…Cat　was　swallowed　in　moving　fire…flecked　shadows；　and　Kurtz　dropped　his　rifle　into　the　snow　without　discharging　it。
　　　　'Fuck　a　duck；'　he　said　tonelessly。　'Cease　firing。　Cease　firing；　you　humps。　Quit　it；　praise　Jesus。　Inside。　Every　one　of　you　but　Freddy。　join　hands　and　pray　for　God　the　Father　Almighty　to　get　our　asses　out　of　the　sling　they're　in。　e　here；　Freddy。　Step　lively。'
　　　　The　others；　nearly　a　dozen；　trooped　up　the　steps　to　the　Winnebago；　looking　uneasily　at　the　burning　generators；　the　blazing　cook…tent　（already　the　missary…tent　next　door　was　catching；　the　infirmary　and　the　morgue　would　be　next）。　Half　the　pole　lights　in　the　pound　were　out。
　　　　Kurtz　put　his　arm　around　Freddy　Johnson's　shoulders　and　walked　him　twenty　paces　into　the　blowing　snow；　which　the　wind　was　now　lifting　and　carrying　in　veils　that　looked　like　mystic　steam。　Directly　ahead　of　the　two　men；　Gosselin's　…　what　was　left　of　it　was　burning　merry　hell。　The　barn　had　already　caught。　Its　shattered　doors　gaped。
　　　　'Freddy；　do　you　love　Jesus？　Tell　me　the　truth。'
　　　　Freddy　had　been　through　this　before。　It　was　a　mantra。　The　boss　was　clearing　his　head。
　　　　'I　love　Him；　boss。'
　　　　'Do　you　swear　that's　true？'　Kurtz　looking　keenly。　Looking　through　him；　more　than　likely。　Planning　a