sk.theplant-第36部分

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　　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　wall；　just　beyond　Herb's　office　door；　a　shiny　green　leaf　almost　the　size　of　a　dinner　plate　unrolled。　Something　bright　dropped　to　the　carpet　with　a　clink。　I　walked　down　and　picked　up　Iron…Guts's　Army　ID　tags　on　a　silver　beaded　chain。　Feeling　very　weird　about　it…you　must　believe　me　when　I　say　words　cannot　begin　to　tell…I　slipped　them　into　my　pants　pocket。　Meanwhile；　Bill　and　Herb　were　picking　up　the　General's　silver　change。　As　this　went　on；　there　was　a　low　rustling　sound。　The　bits　of　clothing　and　shreds　of　paper　were　disappearing　back　into　the　jungle　where　the　front　corridor　bees　the　back　one。
　　〃And　Detweiller？〃　Bill　asked　in　a　hushed　voice。　〃Same　deal？〃
　　Roger's　eyes　met　mine　for　a　moment；　questioning。　Then　we　shook　our　heads；　both　at　the　same　time。
　　〃Why　not？〃　Herb　asked。
　　〃Too　dangerous；〃　I　said。
　　We　waited　for　Zenith　to　speak　again；　to　contradict　the　idea；　perhaps；　but　there　was　nothing。
　　〃Then　what？〃　Herb　asked　plaintively。　〃What　are　we　supposed　to　do　with　him？　What　are　we　supposed　to　do　with　his　goddam　briefcase？　For　that　matter；　what　are　we　supposed　to　do　with　any　little　pieces　of　the　General　we　e　across　in　the　back　corridor？　His　belt…buckle；　for　instance？〃
　　Before　any　of　us　could　answer；　a　man's　voice　called　from　the　reception　area。　〃Hello？　Is　anyone　here？〃
　　We　looked　at　each　other　in　utter　surprise；　in　that　first　moment　too　shocked　for　panic。
　　
　　From　the　journals　of　Riddley　Walker
　　
　　4/5/81
　　
　　When　I　got　to　the　train　station；　I　stuck　my　suitcase　into　the　first　unoccupied　coin…op　locker　I　came　to；　snatched　the　key　with　the　big　orange　head　out　of　the　lock；　and　dropped　it　into　my　pocket；　where　it　will　undoubtedly　stay　at　least　until　tomorrow。　The　worst　is　over…for　now…but　I　can't　even　think　about　getting　my　luggage；　or　doing　any　sort　of　ordinary　chore。　Not　yet。　I'm　too　exhausted。　Physically；　yes；　but　I'll　tell　you　what's　worse：　I'm　morally　exhausted。　I　think　that　is　a　result　of　returning　to　Zenith　House　so　soon　upon　the　heels　of　my　nightmare　falling…out　with　my　sisters　and　brother。　Any　high　moral　ground　I　might　have　claimed　when　the　train　pulled　out　of　Birmingham　is　all　gone　now；　I　can　assure　you。　It's　hard　to　feel　moral　after　you've　crossed　the　George　Washington　Bridge　with　a　body　in　the　back　of　a　borrowed　panel　truck。　Very　hard　indeed。　And　I　can't　get　that　goddamned　whitebread　John　Denver　song　out　of　my　head。　〃There's　a　fire　softly　burning；　supper's　on　the　stove；　gee　it's　good　to　be　back　home　again。〃　That's　one　wad　I'm　tard　of　chewin'；　Uncle　Michael　might　have　said。
　　But　490　Park　Avenue　did　feel　like　home。　Does。　In　spite　of　all　the　horror　and　strangeness；　it　feels　like　home。　Kenton　knows。　The　others；　too；　but　Kenton　knows　it　best　of　all。　I've　grown　to　like　them　all　（in　my　own　admittedly　involuted　way）；　but　Kenton　is　the　one　I　respect。　And　if　this　situation　starts　to　spin　out　of　control；　I　believe　it's　Kenton　that　I'd　go　to。　Although　I　must　say　this　before　plunging　back　into　narrative：　I'm　afraid　of　myself　now。　Afraid　of　my　capacity　to　do　ill；　and　to　carry　on　doing　ill　until　it's　too　late　to　turn　around　and　make　amends。
　　In　other　words；　the　situation　may　already　be　out　of　control；　and　me　with　it。
　　Gee；　it's　good　to　be　back　home　again。
　　Well；　let　it　go。　I'm　tired　and　I　still　have　a　lot　to　tell；　so　that's　best。　I　feel　a　moral　tract　itching　to　get　out；　but　we'll　just　save　it　for　another　day；　shall　we？
　　I　told　the　cab　driver　to　take　me　to　490；　then　changed　my　mind　and　had　him　drop　me　at　Park　and　Twenty…ninth；　instead。　I　wanted　to　scout　a　little　bit；　I　suppose。　Get　the　lay　of　the　land　and　creep　up　on　the　blind　side。　It's　important　to　make　one　thing　clear：　the　range　of　the　telepathy　generated　from　the　plant；　while　wider；　is　still　limited　to　the　vicinity　of　the　building。　。　。　unless　the　situation　is　extreme；　as　it　was　during　the　death…struggle　between　Hecksler　and　the　Mad　Florist。
　　I　don't　know　if　I　expected　police；　SWAT　teams；　or　fire　trucks；　but　all　I　saw　was　Sandra　Jackson；　pacing　up　and　down　in　front　of　the　building；　looking　half…distracted　with　worry　and　indecision。　She　didn't　see　me。　I　don't　think　she　would　have　seen　Robert　Redford　if　he'd　strolled　by　stark　naked。　As　I　walked　toward　her；　she　went　to　the　building's　door；　hands　cupped　to　the　sides　of　her　face；　then　seemed　to　e　to　a　decision。　She　spun　on　her　heels　and　started　toward　the　street；　clearly　meaning　to　cross　to　the　uptown　side。
　　〃Sandra！〃　I　called；　breaking　into　a　trot。　〃Sandra；　hold　on！〃
　　She　turned；　first　startled；　then　relieved。　I　saw　she　was　wearing　a　big　pink　button　on　her　coat　which　read　I　LUV　CONY　ISLAND！　She　started　running　toward　me；　and　I　realized　it　was　the　first　time　I　had　ever　seen　her　in　a　pair　of　sneakers。　She　threw　herself　into　my　arms　so　hard　she　almost　knocked　me　onto　the　sidewalk。
　　〃Riddley；　Riddley；　thank　God　you　came　back　early；〃　she　babbled。　〃I　took　a　cab　all　the　way　from　Cony　Island。　。　。　cost　a　fortune。　。　。　my　niece　thinks　I'm　either　crazy　or　in　love。　。　。　I。　。　。　what　are　you　doing　here？〃
　　〃Just　think　of　me　as　the　cavalry　in　a　John　Wayne　movie；〃　I　said；　and　set　her　back　on　her　feet。　That　much　was　easy。　Getting　her　to　let　go；　I　thought；　might　not　be。　She　clung　like　a　barnacle。
　　〃Tell　me　you've　got　your　office　keys；〃　she　said；　and　I　could　smell　something　sweet　on　her　breath…cotton　candy；　maybe。
　　〃I've　got　them；〃　I　said；　〃but　I　can't　get　them　unless　you　let　go　of　me；　honey　child。〃　I　called　her　that　with　no　irony　whatsoever。　It's　what　Mama　always　called　us　when　we　came　in　with　scraped　knees；　or　upset　from　being　teased。
　　She　let　go　and　looked　up　at　me　solemnly；　as　big…eyed　as　a　waif　in　one　of　those　velvet　paintings。　〃Something's　different　about　you；　Riddley。　What　is　it？〃
　　I　shrugged　and　shook　my　head。　〃Don't　know。　Maybe　we　can　discuss　it　at　another　time。〃
　　〃John's　enemy　is　dead。　So　is　Herb's。　I　think　they　killed　each　other。〃
　　That　wasn't　what　she　thought；　not　exactly；　but　I　took　her　by　the　arm　and　lead　her　back　toward　the　door。　The　only　thing　I　wanted　right　then　was　to　get　her　off　the　street。　People　were　looking　at　us　strangely；　and　not　because　she's　white　and　I'm　black。　And　people　who　see　a　crying　woman　on　a　sunny　Saturday　afternoon　are　apt　to　remember　her；　even　in　a　city　where　instant　amnesia　is　the　rule　rather　than　the　exception。
　　〃The　rest　of　them　are　up　there；〃　she　said；　〃but　I　forgot　my　damned　keys。　I'd　just　decided　to　go　across　to　Smiler's　and　try　calling　them　when　you　showed　up。　Thank　God　you　did。〃
　　〃Thank　God　I　did；〃　I　agreed；　and　used　my　keys　to　let　us　into　the　lobby。
　　We　smelled　it　as　soon　as　we　got　off　on　Five；　and　in　the　Zenith　House　reception　area；　it　was　strong　enough　to　knock　you　down。　A　spicy　aroma。　And　green。　Sandra　was　clutching　my　hand　hard　enough　to　hurt。
　　〃Hello？〃　I　called。　〃Is　anyone　here？〃
　　Nothing　for　a　moment。　Then　I　heard　Wade　say；　〃It's　Riddley。〃　To　which　Porter　replied；　〃Don't　be　an　ass。〃　To　which　Gelb　replied；　〃Yes。　It　is。〃
　　〃Are　you　guys　all　right？〃　Sandra　asked。　She　still　had　me　by　my　hand　and　was　dragging　me　toward　the　hall。　At　first　I　didn't　want　to　go。　。　。　and　then　I　did。
　　We　got　around　LaShonda's　desk　and　there　they　were。　At　first　I　hardly　noticed　them；　though。　The　only　thing　I　had　eyes　for　was　the　plant。　No　more　tired；　bedraggled　little　ivy　in　a　pot。　The　Brazilian　rainforest　has　been　transplanted　to　Park　Avenue　South。　It　was　everywhere。
　　〃Riddley；〃　Kenton　said　with　obvious　relief。　〃Sandra。〃
　　〃What　are　you　doing　here；　Riddley？〃　Gelb　asked。　〃I　thought　you　weren't　ing　back　until　the　middle　of　next　week。〃
　　〃My　plans　changed；〃　I　said。　〃I　got　in　on　the　train　less　than　an　hour　ago。〃
　　〃What　happened　to　your　accent？〃　Porter　asked。　He　was　standing　there　with　that　crazy　plant　growing　all　around　his　feet；　caressing　his　ankles；　for　God's　sake；　and　looking　at　me　with　beetle…browed　suspicion。　At　me　with　suspicion！
　　〃That's　it；〃　Sandra　breathed。　〃That's　what's　different。〃
　　I　freed　my　hand　from　her　grip；　feeling　that　I　might　need　my　fingers　in　reasonable　working　order　before　the　day　was　done。　The　picture　（a　picture；　anyway）　was　ing　clear　in　my　head：　a　kind　of　silent　movie；　in　fact。　I　was　getting　some　of　it　from　them　and　some　of　it　from　Zenith。
　　The　suspicion　had　left　Herb　Porter's　face。　It　was　only　my　lack　of　accent　which　had　bothered　him；　not　me。　What　I　felt　as　we　stood　there　amid　that　green　madness　was　a　sense　of　family；　a　sense　of　all　I　had　missed　down　in　Alabama；　and　I　embraced　it。　Away　from　the　plant　it　is　still　possible　to　question；　to　mistrust。　Within　its　range　of　influence？　Never。　These　were　my　brothers；　Sandra　my　sister　（although　the　relationship　between　she　and　I　is　admittedly　an　incestuous　one）。　And　the　plant？　Our　father；　which　art　in　Zenith。　Color…white；　black；　green…was　just　then　the　least　important　thing　about　us。　This　afternoon　it　was　us　against　the　world。
　　〃I　wouldn't　go　in　your　office　just　this　minute；　Sandra；〃　Roger　said。　〃Mr。　Detweiller　is　currently　in　residence。　And　he　ain't　pretty。〃
　　〃The　General？〃　she　asked。
　　〃The　plant　took　him；〃　John　replied；　and　at　that　moment　Zenith　spat　back　the　remaining　bits　of　Hecksler　it　had　decided　it　couldn't　digest；　perhaps　conveying　them　all　the　way　from　the　back　of　the　office。　The　stuff　hit　the　carpet　in　a　rainy；　metallic　tinkle。　There　was　a　pocket　watch；　the　chain　it　had　been　on　（in　three　pieces）；　a　belt　buckle；　a　very　small　plastic　box；　and　several　tiny　pieces　of　metal。　Herb　and　Bill　picked　all　this　stuff　up。
　　〃Good　Lord；〃　Bill　said；　looking　at　the　box。　〃It's　his　pacemaker。〃
　　〃And　these　are　surgical　pins；〃　Herb　said。　〃The　kind　orthopedic　surgeons　use　to　hold　bones　together。〃
　　〃All　right；〃　Wade　said。　〃Let's　assume　that　the　plant　is　taking　care　of　the　General's　corpse。　I　think　it's　clear　we　can　dispose　of　his　remaining。　。　。　accessories。　。　。　with　no　trouble；　should　we　choose　to。　Detweiller's　attache　case；　too。〃
　　〃What　do　you　think　is　in　it？〃　Sandra　asked。
　　〃I　don't　want　to　know。　The　question　is　what　to　do　with　his　body。　I'm　on　record　as　saying　we　shouldn't　feed　it　to　the　plant。　I　think　it's　had　all　the。　。　。　all　the　nourishment　it　needs。〃
　　〃All