sk.theplant-第35部分

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　　I　was　rummaging　for　them　in　my　pocket　when　Bill　stepped　forward　and　tried　the　knob。　It　turned。　He　looked　at　us　with　his　eyebrows　raised；　then　went　in。
　　I'd　characterize　what　we'd　smelled　when　the　elevator　door　opened　on　Five　as　a　scent。　In　the　reception　office　it　was　much；　much　stronger…what　you　would　have　called　a　reek；　if　it　had　been　unpleasant。　It　wasn't；　so　what　does　that　leave？　Pungent；　I　suppose；　a　pungent；　earthy　smell。
　　This　is　so　hard。　To　this　point　I've　been　racing　along；　wanting　to　get　to　what　we　found　（and　what　we　didn't）；　but　here　I　find　myself　moving　much　more　slowly；　searching　for　ways　to　describe　what　is；　essentially；　indescribable。　And　it　occurs　to　me　how　infrequently　we　are　called　upon　to　write　about　smells　and　the　powerful　ways　in　which　they　affect　us。　The　smell　in　the　Central　Falls　House　of　Flowers　was　similar　to　this　in　its　strength；　but　in　other　ways；　important　ways；　entirely　different。　The　greenhouse　smell　was　threatening；　sinister。　This　one　was　like。　。　。
　　Well；　I　might　as　well　just　say　it。　It　was　like　ing　home。
　　Roger　looked　around　at　Bill　and　me　and　gave　us　a　forbidding　District　Attorney　stare。　〃Toast　and　jam？〃　he　asked。　〃Popcorn？　Honeysuckle？　New　goddam　car？〃
　　We　shook　our　heads。　Zenith　had　put　its　various　disguises　aside；　perhaps　because　it　no　longer　needs　them　to　entice　us。　I　tuned　into　their　thoughts　again；　just　enough　to　know　that　Bill　and　Roger　smelled　what　I　did。　There　were　variations；　I'm　sure；　as　no　two　sets　of　perception　are　alike　（not　to　mention　no　two　sets　of　olfactory　receptors）；　but　basically　it　was　the　same　thing。　Green。　。　。　strong。　。　。　friendly。　。　。　home。　I　just　hope　and　pray　I'm　not　wrong　about　the　friendly　part。
　　〃e　on；〃　Roger　said。
　　Herb　grabbed　his　arm。　〃What　if　somebody…〃
　　〃Nobody's　here；〃　I　said。　〃Carlos　was　and　the　General　was；　but　they're。　。　。　you　know。　。　。　gone。〃
　　〃Don't　gild　the　lily；〃　Bill　said。　〃They're　dead。〃
　　〃e　on；〃　Roger　repeated；　and　we　followed　him。
　　The　reception　area　was　clean　as　a　whistle；　the　garlic　still　holding　Zenith　at　bay；　but　the　first　green　scouts　had　already　gotten　to　within　five　feet　of　the　pass…through　to　the　editorial　department　（there's　no　door　at　the　reception　end　of　the　hallway；　only　a　square　arch　flanked　by　Macho　Man　posters）。　Fifteen　or　twenty　feet　down；　where　the　door　to　Roger's　office　opens　on　the　left；　the　growth　has　thickened　considerably；　covering　most　of　the　carpet　and　climbing　up　the　walls。　By　the　point　where　Herb's　office　and　Sandra's　face　each　other；　it　has　covered　the　old　gray　carpet　in　a　new　carpet　of　fresh　green；　as　well　as　most　of　the　walls。　It　has　gotten　a　start　on　the　ceiling　for　good　measure；　hanging　from　the　fluorescent　lights　in　ropy　swags。　Beyond　that；　down　toward　Riddley's　country；　it　has　bee　a　jungle。　Yet　I　knew　that　if　I　walked　down　there；　it　would　open　to　let　me　pass。
　　Pass；　friend；　e　home。　Yes；　I　could　hear　it　whispering　that　to　me。
　　〃Ho。　。　。　lee。　。　。　shit；〃　Bill　said。
　　〃We've　created　a　monster；〃　Herb　said；　and　even　in　that　moment　of　stress　and　wonder　it　occurred　to　me　that　he'd　been　reading　too　many　Anthony　LaScorbia　novels　for　his　own　good。
　　Roger　started　down　the　hallway；　moving　slowly。　We　had　all　heard　pass；　friend；　and　we　all　felt　that　undeniable　wele；　but　we　were　all　ready　to　run；　just　the　same。　It　was　just　too　new；　too　weird。
　　Although　there's　only　one　corridor　in　the　office　suite；　it　makes　that　little　zigzag　jog　in　the　middle。　We　call　the　part　running　through　the　editorial　offices　〃the　front　corridor。〃　Beyond　the　jog　are　the　mailroom；　the　janitor's　cubby；　and　a　utility　room　to　which　only　the　building's　personnel　are　supposed　to　have　access　（although　I　suspect　Riddley　has　a　key）。　This　part　is　called　〃the　back　corridor。〃
　　In　the　front　corridor；　there　are　three　offices　on　the　left：　Roger's；　Bill's；　and　Herb's。　On　the　right　there's　a　small　office　supply　closet　mostly　taken　up　by　our　cranky　Xerox　machine；　then　my　office；　and　finally　Sandra's。　The　doors　to　Roger's　office；　Bill's；　and　the　supply　closet　were　all　closed。　My　door；　Herb's　door；　and　Sandra's　door　were　all　open。
　　〃Fuu…uck；〃　Herb　said　in　a　horrified　whisper。　〃Look　on　the　side　of　her　door。〃
　　〃It's　not　Kool…Aid；　I　can　tell　you　that　much；〃　Bill　said。
　　〃More　on　the　carpet；　too；〃　Roger　said。　Herb　used　the　f…word　again；　once　more　breaking　it　into　two　syllables。
　　There　was　no　blood　on　the　ivy…runners；　I　noticed；　and　although　I　didn't　want　to　think　about　that　too　much；　I　suppose　I　know　why　not。　Our　buddy　gets　hungry；　and　doesn't　that　make　perfect　sense？　There's　so　much　more　of　it　to　support　now；　so　many　new　outposts　and　colonies；　and　our　psychic　vibrations　can　probably　offer　it　only　so　much　in　the　way　of　nourishment。　There's　an　old　blues　tune　on　the　subject。　〃Grits　ain't　groceries；〃　the　chorus　goes。　By　the　same　token；　friendly　thoughts　and　supportive　editors　ain't。　。　。
　　Well；　they　ain't　blood。
　　Are　they？
　　Roger　looked　into　Herb's　office　and　I　looked　into　mine。　My　place　looked　okay；　but　I　knew　damned　well　Carlos　had　been　there；　and　not　just　because　of　the　fancy…shmancy　attache　case　sitting　on　top　of　the　desk。　I　could　almost　smell　him。
　　〃Things　are　a　trifle　disarranged　in　your　cubby；　Herbert；〃　Bill　said　in　a　really　terrible　English　butler　voice。　Maybe　it　was　his　way　of　trying　to　lighten　the　tension。　〃In　fact；　I　believe　someone　may　have　urinated　a　bit　in　theah。〃
　　Herb　glanced　in；　saw　the　destruction；　and　grunted　an　oath　that　sounded　almost　absent…minded　before　turning　to　Sandra's　office。　By　then；　I　was　getting　a　pretty　clear　picture。　Two　crazy　men；　both　with　grudges　against　different　Zenith　House　editors。　I　didn't　care　how　they　got　in　or　which　of　them　had　arrived　first；　but　I　was　curious　about　how　far　apart　in　time　they'd　been。　If　they'd　met　in　the　lobby　and　had　their　lunatic　shootout　there；　they　could　have　saved　us　a　lot　of　trouble。　Only　that　probably　wasn't　the　way　Zenith　wanted　it。　Aside　from　the　fact　that　Carlos　may　have　owed　a　rather　large　debt　to　something　（or　Something）　in　the　Great　Beyond；　there's　the　fact　that　grits　ain't　groceries。　Telepathic　plants　get　more　than　lonely；　it　seems。　Pore　little　fellers　get　hungry；　too。
　　It's　certainly　something　to　think　about。
　　〃Roger？〃　Herb　asked。　He　was　still　standing　by　his　door；　and　he　sounded　timid　again。　〃She。　。　。　she's　not　in　there；　is　she？〃
　　〃No；〃　Roger　said　absently；　〃you　know　she's　not。　Sandra's　on　her　way　back　from　Cony　Island。　But　our　friend　from　Central　Falls　is　finally　present　and　accounted　for。〃
　　We　gathered　around　the　door　and　looked　in。
　　Carlos　Detweiller　lay　face…down　in　what　Anthony　LaScorbia　would　undoubtedly　call　〃a　gruesome　pool　of　spreading　blood。〃　The　back　of　his　suit…coat　was　pulled　upward　in　a　tent…shape；　and　the　tip　of　a　knife　protruded　through　it。　His　hands　were　outstretched　toward　the　desk。　His　feet；　pointing　toward　the　door；　had　already　been　partially　covered　by　thin　green　bows　of　ivy。　Zenith　had　actually　pulled　off　one　of　his　loafers　and　worked　his　way　through　the　sock　beneath。　Maybe　there　was　a　hole　in　the　sock　to　begin　with；　but　somehow　I　don't　think　so。　Because　there　were　broken　strands　of　ivy；　you　see。　As　if　it　had　tried　to　pull　him　out；　out　and　down　toward　the　main　mass　of　the　growth；　and　had　been　unable。　You　could　almost　feel　the　hunger。　The　longing　to　have　his　carcass　the　way　it　had　undoubtedly　already　had　the　General's。
　　〃This　is　where　they　fought；　of　course；〃　Roger　said；　still　in　that　absent　tone　of　voice。　He　saw　the　Rainy　Day　Friend　lying　on　the　floor；　picked　it　up；　sniffed　at　the　little　hole　on　top；　and　winced。　His　eyes　began　to　water　at　once。
　　〃If　you　set　off　the　siren　in　that　thing　again；　I　will　be　forced　to　kill　you　as　dead　as　the　asshole　at　your　feet；〃　Bill　said。
　　〃I　think　the　battery's　fried；〃　Roger　said；　but　he　set　the　thing　down　on　Sandra's　desk　very　carefully；　also　being　careful　not　to　step　on　Detweiller's　outstretched　hand。
　　Carlos　had　been　in　my　office；　because　I　was　the　one　against　whom　he'd　built　his　grudge。　Then　he　left　for　something。
　　〃I　think　it　was　food；〃　Bill　said。　〃He　got　hungry　and　went　looking　for　food。　The　General　jumped　him。　Carlos　got　to　Sandra's　gadget　before　Hecksler　could　give　him　the　coup　de　grace；　but　it　wasn't　enough。　Do　you　see　that　part；　John？〃
　　I　shook　my　head。　Maybe　I　just　didn't　want　to　see　it。
　　〃What's　this？〃　Bill　was　out　in　the　hall。　He　dropped　to　one　knee；　moved　aside　a　clump　of　ivy；　and　showed　us　a　guitar　pick。　Like　the　leaves　of　Zenith　himself；　the　pick　was　as　clean　as　a　whistle。　No　blood；　I　mean。
　　〃Something　printed　on　it；〃　Bill　said；　and　squinted。　〃JUST　A　CLOSER　WALK　WITH　THEE；　it　says。〃
　　Roger　looked　at　me；　finally　startled　out　of　his　daze。　〃Good　God；　John；〃　he　said；　〃that　was　him！　He　was　her！〃
　　〃What　are　you　talking　about？〃　Bill　asked；　turning　the　pick　over　and　over　in　his　fingers。　〃What　are　you　thinking　about？　Who's　Crazy　Guitar　Gertie？〃
　　〃The　General；〃　I　said　hollowly；　and　wondered　if　he'd　had　the　knife　when　I　gave　him　the　two　dollars。　If　Herb　had　been　there　that　day；　he'd　be　dead　now。　There　was　absolutely　no　question　about　that　in　my　mind。　And　I　myself　was　lucky　to　be　alive。
　　〃Well；　I　wasn't　there；　and　you　are　alive；〃　Herb　said。　He　spoke　with　his　old　don't…trouble…me…with…the…details　irritability；　but　his　face　was　still　pale　and　shocked；　the　face　of　a　man　who　is　running　entirely　on　instinct。　〃And　congratulations；　Gelb；　you　just　left　your　dabs　on　that　guitar　pick。　Better　wipe　em　off。〃
　　I　could　see　other　stuff　scattered　amid　the　thickening　greenery　back　down　the　hall：　shredded　bits　of　clothing；　a　few　pieces　of　what　looked　like　a　pamphlet　of　some　kind；　paper　money；　coins。
　　〃Fingerprints　aren't　a　problem　because　nobody's　ever　going　to　see　any　of　the　old　coot's　stuff；〃　Roger　said。　He　took　the　pick　from　Bill；　briefly　examined　the　printing；　then　walked　a　little　way　down　the　corridor。　The　drifts　and　clumps　of　ivy　drew　back　for　him；　just　as　I　had　known　they　would。　Roger　tossed　the　pick。　A　leaf　folded　over　it　and　it　was　gone。　Just　like　that。
　　Then；　in　my　head；　I　heard　Roger's　voice。　Zenith！　As　if　calling　a　dog。　Eat　this　crap　up！　Make　it　gone！
　　And　for　the　first　time　I　heard　it　speak　a　coherent　reply。　There　isn't　anything　I　can　do　about　the　coins。　Or　these　damn　things。　Halfway　up　the　wa