pzb.lostsouls-第45部分

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　　He　was　about　to　go　in　search　of　some　fruit　juice　when　Steve　loomed　in　front　of　him；　swaying　slightly；　reeking　of　beer；　his　T…shirt　stained　with　it。　Steve　grabbed　Ghost's　hands　and　pulled　him　up。　〃Let's　go。〃
　　They　staggered　out　to　the　T…bird；　Steve　leaning　most　of　his　weight　on　Ghost。　When　Steve　tried　to　get　behind　the　wheel；　Ghost　said；　〃Uh…uh。　I'm　driving。〃
　　Steve　put　the　keys　in　his　hand　without　argument。　Ghost　slid　in　and　cranked　up　the　engine。　Beside　him；　Steve　lay　against　the　passenger　door；　eyes　slitted；　staring　up　at　the　night　sky。
　　Ghost　reached　over　and　touched　Steve's　shoulder。　〃Steve。　Hey；　Steve。　Where　we　going？〃
　　〃New　Orleans；〃　said　Steve　without　looking　away　from　the　stars。　〃Drive。〃
　　
　　　Chapter　23
　　
　　〃She's　going　to　what？〃　said　Molochai　when　Christian　told　them。
　　〃Again？〃　said　Twig。　〃What　would　we　do　with　a　baby？〃　
　　〃We　could　eat　it；〃　Molochai　offered。
　　Zillah　grimaced。　〃Eat　my　baby！　Are　you　mad？〃　After　a　moment's　reflection　he　added；　〃Nothing　and　I　might　eat　it；　but　you　couldn't　have　any。〃
　　〃Zilllllaaaah　。　。　。〃　
　　〃Pleeeeeezzze？。。。〃
　　〃Not　one　drop。　Not　one　pink　sugar　drop。〃
　　They　might　eat　it；　too；　thought　Christian。　They　just　might；　even　if　it　was　Nothing's　half…brother　or　…sister。　The　idea　did　not　strike　Christian　as　particularly　immoral；　but　it　made　him　sad。　He　stood　silently　before　them；　considering　Zillah。　Those　eyes；　and　the　perfect　pink　lips　twisted　in　amusement　or　disgust；　and　his　entourage　clustered　around　him。
　　For　a　moment　Christian　almost　disliked　them。　Not　Nothing；　but　the　other　three。　He　hated　their　insouciance；　their　cheerful　cruelty。　They　didn't　care　about　the　girl。　Their　time　in　Missing　Mile　was　done。　They　would　go　on　to　New　Orleans　and　carry　on　their　never…ending　party　without　a　backward　glance。　It　did　not　matter　to　them　that　another　girl's　belly　would　swell　with　a　malignant　child；　a　child　that　would　eventually　rip　her　open　and　bleed　her　dry。
　　〃You　must　get　rid　of　it；〃　he　had　told　her。　He'd　been　out　behind　the　trailer　cutting　the　last　roses　of　the　season。　The　bushes　were　dry　now；　brown　and　gnarled。　Somehow　he　would　have　to　stretch　his　ine　from　the　bartending　job　to　pay　the　rent　on　the　trailer　and　buy　the　sweets　and　liquor　that　the　others　throve　upon。
　　Nothing　had　already　offered　to　look　for　a　job；　he　was　goodhearted；　but　what　place　would　hire　a　boy　who　looked　so　young　and　so　strange？　And　Molochai；　Twig；　and　Zillah　were　used　to　their　luxurious　nomadic　life；　travelling　from　city　to　city；　living　off　the　blood　and　money　of　their　kills。　But　in　Missing　Mile　there　were　no　wealthy　victims。　There　were　only　drifters　and　bastard　children　and　travellers　who　had　lost　their　way。
　　As　he　was　cutting　the　last　rose；　a　great　frothy　pink…orange　thing　whose　veined　petals　curled　delicately　into　red　at　the　edges；　the　girl　Ann　came　up　behind　him　and　touched　his　sleeve。　Christian　had　seen　her　near　the　trailer　before；　trying　to　look　through　the　windows；　tugging　at　the　doors　of　the　black　van。　He　had　not　known　precisely　what　had　happened　between　her　and　Zillah。　When　she　told　him；　Christian's　heart　sank。　Had　Zillah　grown　up　not　at　all　in　fifteen　years？　Had　he　never　heard　of　condoms？
　　〃I'll　have　a　beautiful　baby；〃　she　said。　〃With　green；　green　eyes。
　　〃It　will　kill　you；〃　he　told　her。　〃They'll　leave　you　and　you'll　be　alone；　and　it　will　kill　you。〃　He　turned　to　face　her；　the　huge　rose　in　one　hand；　a　rusty　pair　of　scissors　in　the　other。　〃Listen　to　me。　You　have　to　get　rid　of　it。　You　must。〃　
　　〃Why？〃
　　Christian　met　her　eyes。　Ann's　eyes　danced　like　spiders；　they　gleamed；　empty　of　reason；　She　had　not　looked　that　way　a　month　ago　at　the　Sacred　Yew。　Already　Zillah's　essence　was　infecting　her　as　it　had　infected　Jessy。
　　He　could　tell　her　the　truth。　That　Zillah　was　of　another　race；　a　race　whose　seed　was　bloody　poison。　That　Zillah's　baby　would　rip　her　apart　inside　and　she　would　die　as　Jessy　had　died　fifteen　years　ago；　her　thighs　sticky　with　blood；　her　eyes　rolled　back　silver…rimmed　in　her　head。　Yes；　he　might　tell　her　all　that。　She　was　already　mad　enough　to　believe　it。　But　if　she　knew　what　danger　she　was　in；　she　might　tell　someone　else。　She　might　convince　someone。　And　that　would　endanger　Nothing；　would　endanger　Zillah　and　the　others。　The　young；　the　fine；　the　fire　of　a　dying　race。　No。　He　could　not　betray　them。
　　〃You　must　get　rid　of　it　because　he　will　leave　you；〃　Christian　said　lamely。　〃You'll　be　alone。〃
　　〃I'll　follow　them　wherever　they　go；〃　Ann　said。　〃I'll　follow　Zillah。〃
　　Her　hair　hung　loose　about　her　face；　straggling；　bright　as　flames。　She　was　just　a　girl。　A　girl　like　Jessy；　a　human　girl　who　should　have　a　life　without　fear　or　pain　caused　by　the　whims　of　others。　A　girl　who　should　have　healthy　children　that　she　could　live　to　care　for。　Babies　she　could　nurse　at　her　breast；　babies　that　would　not　feed　upon　the　tissue　of　her　innards。
　　Christian　knew　he　could　not　let　the　others　leave　him　a　second　time。　He　could　not　watch　that　black　van　disappear　down　the　road　and　wonder　whether　he　would　ever　see　it　again。　If　they　left　Missing　Mile；　he　would　follow　them。　They　would　protect　him　from　Wallace　Creech。　And　if　Ann　followed　too；　perhaps　he　could　convince　her。　Perhaps　there　would　be　some　way　to　keep　her　from　giving　birth　to　another　of　Zillah's　beautiful；　deadly　children。
　　〃They'll　go　to　New　Orleans；〃　he　told　her。　〃To　the　French　Quarter。〃　There；　it　was　done。　She　might　follow　them；　she　might　find　them。　She　might　not。
　　Christian　turned　away　toward　the　trailer。　He　did　not　look　back　at　the　girl　who　stood　by　the　rosebushes；　the　girl　with　funereal　black　lace　tied　in　her　bright　hair。　The　girl　who　even　though　there　was　no　physical　resemblance；　none　at　all；　reminded　him　so　strongly　of　Jessy　fifteen　years　ago。
　　The　same　bewitched　light　shone　in　her　eyes。
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　24
　　
　　After　they　left　the　Halloween　party；　Ghost　drove　to　Ann's　house。　Her　Datsun　was　not　parked　in　the　driveway；　but　her　father's　red　Buick　was。　Ghost　didn't　want　to　talk　to　Simon　Bransby；　not　tonight；　not　about　all　this。　And　he　could　see　that　there　was　no　light　on　in　Ann's　corner　room。
　　Ghost　swung　past　the　Greyhound　station　over　by　the　old　Farmer's　Hardware　store。　Ann's　car　was　in　the　parking　lot；　but　it　already　looked　abandoned。　The　bus　station　was　dark；　no　one　sat　on　the　lone　bench　out　back。　The　southbound　night　bus　came　through　Missing　Mile　every　night　at　10：05。　It　was　long　gone。
　　Ghost　drove　back　to　Burnt　Church　Road；　grabbed　their　toothbrushes　and　Steve's　bag　of　pot；　and　pointed　the　car　out　of　town。　He　could　think　of　nothing　better　to　do。　New　Orleans；　Steve　had　said；　and　Ann　was　probably　headed　there　too。
　　Steve　slumped　against　the　passenger　door；　his　breathing　deep；　heavy；　exhausted。　He　was　in　no　shape　to　answer　questions。　So　Ghost　took　N。C。　42　south　out　of　Missing　Mile　without　looking　over　his　shoulder。　He　knew　he　would　be　back。　He　and　Steve　could　travel　anywhere；　but　they　always　came　back　to　Missing　Mile。
　　The　road　made　him　as　nervous　as　a　racehorse。　He　wasn't　good　at　driving；　not　like　Steve。　Driving　was　in　Steve's　blood。　But　the　highway　billowed　and　writhed　before　Ghost's　eyes；　stars　glittered　in　the　rearview　mirror；　the　moon　dodged　shreds　of　pale　cloud。　The　night　was　dark；　then　bright；　then　dark　again。
　　Halloween　night。　A　bad　time　to　travel。　What　might　be　keeping　pace　with　the　T…bird？　What　strange　eyes　might　mark　the　car's　passage？　Ghost　kept　the　windows　cranked　tight　shut；　kept　his　nostrils　flared　for　trouble。
　　As　he　drove　past　Miz　Catlin's　place；　Ghost　saw　a　lone　candle　flickering　in　the　front　window。　Miz　Catlin　knew　enough　to　stay　inside　tonight；　her　small　fire　warming　the　good　spirits　and　keeping　the　bad　ones　away。
　　With　a　longing　that　ached　in　his　bones；　Ghost　wished　he　were　asleep　between　the　crisp　faded　sheets　of　Miz　Catlin's　guest　bed。　He　had　spent　so　many　childhood　nights　in　that　bed；　napping；　waking　and　tossing；　twining　his　fingers　in　his　hair　and　trying　to　hear　the　quiet　conversations　of　Miz　Catlin　and　his　grandmother　in　the　next　room。　Sometimes　they　spoke　of　things　he　couldn't　understand；　things　that　frightened　him；　names　he　could　never　recall　when　clear　sunlight　spilled　through　the　windowpanes　the　next　morning。　Astaroth。　He　thought　he　remembered　that。　Or　was　it　asafoetida？　Sometimes；　as　old　women　will；　they　spoke　of　recipes　and　grown　children　and　husbands　strayed　or　buried。　Still　Ghost　had　listened　rapt；　turning　over　each　word　he　could　hear；　keeping　it　like　a　jewel…colored　pebble　or　a　broken　blue　eggshell　somewhere　in　his　mind。
　　And　sometimes　。　。　。　sometimes　they　spoke　of　him。　At　those　times　he　thought　his　ears　would　pull　loose　from　his　head　and　fly　away；　so　hard　did　they　stretch　to　listen。
　　〃He　won't　ever　have　it　easy；　Deliverance。　The　boy's　gift　is　just　too　damn　strong。〃　That　was　Miz　Catlin。　She　meant　him；　Ghost。　The　gift　was　the　things　he　knew；　or　felt；　without　having　any　way　to　know。　The　things　he　couldn't　tell　just　anybody；　the　things　his　grandmother　always　understood。
　　〃I　know　it；　Catlin。　Nobody　with　the　gift　ever　has　an　easy　time；　'specially　not　when　they're　as　open…hearted　as　my　Ghost。　Let　that　boy　try　to　tell　a　lie　and　his　forehead　turns　to　glass。〃　That　was　his　grandmother；　her　voice　softer　than　Miz　Catlin's；　her　words　softer　too。　〃But　I　trust　him　to　use　it　well。　He'll　never　hurt　anybody　with　his　gift。〃　Her　voice　had　lowered　then。　〃The　only　thing　I　worry　about　is；　his　gift　might　hurt　him。　He'll　spend　his　life　feeling　everybody　else's　pain。　Takes　a　lot　of　strength　not　to　lay　down　and　be　crushed　under　that　weight。〃
　　Ghost　jerked　awake　and　tossed　his　head。　He　was　being　lulled　to　sleep　by　voices　from　the　past；　by　the　night　road；　by　the　spirits　drifting　between　midnight　and　dawn。　As　he　drove　past　the　graveyard　outside　Corinth；　Ghost　saw　the　humped　stones　palely　gleaming；　the　rags　of　mist　that　rose　from　the　cold　ground。
　　He　felt　the　hair　at　the　back　of　his　neck　trying　to　stand　up。　Lie　down　and　be　quiet；　he　told　it。　Those　graves　weren't　dangerous。　Even　if　spirits　roamed　there；　they　were　just　people。　Frightened；　maybe；　because　their　bodies　were　rotting　and　drying　and　dusting　away。　Frightened　and　maybe　even　angry。　But　still　people。　They　couldn't　hurt　him　or　Steve。　Not　like　some　things。　Some　of　the　monsters　w