dk.coldfire-第41部分

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　Ahead　lay　the　lightless　lower　room　of　the　mill；　in　which　the　worn　stone　wheels　ground　against　each　other。　
　To　her　left；　barely　visible　in　the　gloom；　stairs　led　up。　Ululant　squeals　and　haunting　cries　echoed　from　above；　like　the　night　concert　performed　by　the　wildlife　in　a　jungle；　except　none　of　these　voices　was　quite　that　of　a　panther　or　monkey　or　bird　or　hyena。　Electronic　sounds　were　part　of　the　mix；　and　what　seemed　to　be　the　brittle　shrieks　of　insects　passed　through　a　stereo　amplifier。　Underlying　the　cacophony　was　a　monotonous；　throbbing；　three…note　bass　refrain　that　reverberated　in　the　stone　walls　of　the　stairwell　and；　before　she　had　climbed　halfway　to　the　second　floor；　in　Holly's　bones　as　well。　
　She　passed　a　narrow　window　on　her　left。　An　extended　series　of　lightning　bolts　crackled　across　the　vault　of　the　night；　and　at　the　foot　of　the　mill；　like　a　trick　mirror　in　a　funhouse；　the　dark　pond　turned　transparent。　Its　depths　were　revealed；　as　though　the　lightning　came　from　under　the　water；　and　Holly　saw　an　infinitely　strange　shape　resting　on　the　bottom。　She　squinted；　trying　to　get　a　better　look　at　the　object；　but　the　lightning　sputtered　out。　
　The　merest　glimpse　of　the　thing；　however；　sent　a　cold　wind　through　the　hollows　of　her　bones。　
　She　waited；　hoping　for　more　lightning；　but　the　night　remained　as　opaque　as　tar；　and　black　rain　suddenly　spattered　against　the　window。　
　Because　she　was　halfway　to　the　second　floor　of　the　mill；　more　muddy…orange　and　yellow　light　flickered　around　her　than　had　reached　her　at　the　foot　of　the　stairs。　The　window　glass；　backed　by　utter　darkness　now　and　painted　with　sufficient　luminescence　to　serve　as　a　dim　mirror；　presented　her　reflection。　
　But　the　face　she　possessed　in　this　dream　was　not　her　own。　It　belonged　to　a　woman　twenty　years　older　than　Holly；　to　whom　she　bore　no　resemblance。　
　She'd　never　before　had　a　dream　in　which　she　occupied　the　body　of　another　person。　But　now　she　understood　why　she　had　been　unable　to　turn　back　from　the　mill　when　she'd　been　outside；　and　why　she　was　unable　to　stop　herself　from　climbing　to　the　high　room　even　though；　on　one　level；　she　knew　she　was　dreaming。　Her　lack　of　control　was　not　the　usual　helplessness　that　transformed　dreams　into　nightmares；　but　the　result　of　sharing　the　body　of　a　stranger。　
　The　woman　turned　from　the　window　and　continued　upward　toward　the　unearthly　shrieks；　cries；　and　whispers　that　echoed　down　to　her　with　the　fluctuant　light。　Around　her　the　limestone　walls　pounded　with　the　tripartite　bass　beat；　as　if　the　mill　were　alive　and　had　a　massive　three…chambered　heart。　
　Stop；　turn　back；　you're　going　to　die　up　there　Holly　shouted；　but　the　woman　could　not　hear　her。　Holly　was　only　an　observer　in　her　own　dream；　not　an　active　participant；　unable　to　influence　events。　
　Step　by　step。　Higher。　
　The　iron…bound　timber　door　stood　open。　
　She　crossed　the　threshold。　Into　the　high　room。　
　The　first　thing　she　saw　was　the　boy。　He　was　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　terrified。　His　small　hands；　curled　in　fists；　were　at　his　sides。　A　three…inch…diameter　decorative　candle　stood　in　a　blue　dish　at　his　feet。　A　hardcover　book　lay　beside　the　dish；　and　she　glimpsed　the　word　〃mill〃　on　the　colorful　dustjacket。　
　Turning　to　look　at　her；　his　beautiful　blue　eyes　darkened　by　terror；　the　boy　said；　〃I'm　scared；　help　me；　the　walls；　the　walls！〃　She　realized　that　the　single　candle　was　not　producing　all　of　the　peculiar　glow　suffusing　the　room。　Other　light　glimmered　in　the　walls；　as　if　they　were　not　made　of　solid　limestone　but　of　semitransparent　and　magicallyù　radiant　quartz　in　shades　of　amber。　At　once　she　saw　that　something　was　alive　within　the　stone；　something　luminous　which　could　move　through　solid　matter　as　easily　as　a　swimmer　could　move　through　water。　
　The　wall　swelled　and　throbbed。　
　〃It's　ing；〃　the　boy　said　with　evident　fear　but　also　with　what　might　have　been　a　perverse　excitement；　〃and　nobody　can　stop　it！〃　Suddenly　it　was　born　out　of　the　air。　The　curve　of　mortared　blocks　split　like　the　spongy　membrane　of　an　insect's　egg。　And　taking　shape　from　a　core　of　foul　muck　where　limestone　should　have　been　〃No！〃　Choking　on　a　scream；　Holly　woke。　
　She　sat　up　in　bed；　something　touched　her；　and　she　wrenched　away　from　it。　
　Because　the　room　was　awash　in　morning　light；　she　saw　that　it　was　only　Jim。　
　A　dream。　Just　a　dream。　
　As　had　happened　two　nights　ago　in　the　Laguna　Hills　Motor　Inn；　however；　the　creature　of　the　dream　was　trying　to　force　its　way　into　the　waking　world。　It　was　not　ing　through　a　wall　this　time。　The　ceiling。　
　Directly　over　the　bed。　The　white…painted　drywall　was　no　longer　white　or　dry；　but　mottled　amber　and　brown；　semitransparent　and　luminous　as　the　stone　in　the　dream　had　been；　oozing　a　noxious　mucus；　bulging　as　some　shadowy　entity　struggled　to　be　born　into　the　bedroom。　
　The　dream…thing's　thunderous　three…part　heartbeat…lub…dub　DUB；　lubdub…DUB　shuddered　through　the　house。　
　Jim　rolled　off　the　bed　and　onto　his　feet。　He　had　slipped　into　his　pajama　bottoms　again　during　the　night；　just　as　Holly　had　slipped　into　the　roomy　top　which　hung　halfway　to　her　knees。　She　scrambled　to　his　side。　They　stared　up　in　horror　at　the　pulsing　birth　sac　which　the　ceiling　had　bee；　and　at　the　shadowy　writhing　form　struggling　to　breach　that　containing　membrane。　
　Most　frightening　of　all…this　apparition　was　in　daylight。　The　plantation　shutters　had　not　been　pletely　closed　over　the　windows；　and　slats　of　morning　sunshine　banded　the　room。　When　something　from　Beyond　found　you　in　the　dead　hours　of　the　night；　you　half　expected　it。　
　But　sunshine　was　supposed　to　banish　all　monsters。　
　Jim　put　a　hand　against　Holly's　back；　pushed　her　toward　the　open　door　to　the　hallway。　〃Go；　get　out！〃　She　took　only　two　steps　in　that　direction　before　the　door　slammed　shut　of　its　own　accord。　As　if　an　exceptionally　powerful　poltergeist　were　at　work；　a　mahogany　highboy；　as　old　and　well…used　as　everything　in　the　house；　erupted　away　from　the　wall　beside　her；　almost　knocking　her　down。　
　It　flew　across　the　bedroom；　slammed　into　the　door。　A　dresser　and　a　chair　followed　that　tall　chest　of　drawers；　effectively　barricading　the　only　exit。　
　The　windows　in　the　far　wall　presented　an　avenue　of　escape；　but　they　would　have　to　crouch　to　slip　under　the　increasingly　distended　central　portion　of　the　ceiling。　Having　accepted　the　illogic　of　the　waking　nightmare；　Holly　was　now　loath　to　press　past　that　greasy　and　obscenely　throbbing　pouch；　for　fear　that　it　would　split　open　as　she　moved　under　it；　and　that　the　creature　within　would　seize　her。　
　Jim　pulled　her　back　with　him　into　the　adjoining　bathroom。　He　kicked　the　door　shut。　
　Holly　swung　around；　searching。　The　only　window　was　set　high　and　was　too　small　to　provide　a　way　out。　
　The　bathroom　walls　were　untainted　by　the　organic　transformation　that　had　overe　the　bedroom；　but　they　still　shook　with　the　triple　bass　thud　of　the　inhuman　heartbeat。　
　〃What　the　hell　is　that？〃　he　demanded。　
　〃The　Enemy；〃　she　said　at　once；　surprised　that　he　didn't　know。　〃The　Enemy；　from　the　dream。〃　
　Above　them；　starting　from　the　partition　that　the　bath　shared　with　the　bedroom；　the　white　ceiling　began　to　discolor　as　if　abruptly　saturated　with　red　blood；　brown　bile。　The　sheen　of　semigloss　paint　on　drywall　metamorphosed　into　a　biological　surface　and　began　to　throb　in　time　with　the　thunderous　heartbeat。　
　Jim　pulled　her　into　a　corner　by　the　vanity；　and　she　huddled　helplessly　against　him。　Beyond　the　pregnant　droop　of　the　lowering　ceiling；　she　saw　a　repulsive　movement　like　the　frenzied　squirming　of　a　million　maggots。　
　The　thudding　heartbeat　increased　in　volume；　booming　around　them。　
　She　heard　a　wet；　tearing　sound。　None　of　this　could　be　happening；　yet　it　was；　and　that　sound　made　it　more　real　than　the　things　she　was　seeing　with　her　own　eyes；　because　it　was　such　a　filthy　sound　and　so　hideously　intimate　too　real　for　a　delusion　or　a　dream。　
　The　door　crashed　open；　and　the　ceiling　burst　overhead；　showering　then　with　debris。　
　But　with　that　implosion；　the　power　of　the　lingering　nightmare　was　exhausted；　and　reality　finally；　fully　reasserted　itself　Nothing　monstrous　surged　through　the　open　door；　only　the　sun…filled　bedroom　lay　beyond　Although　the　ceiling　had　looked　entirely　organic　when　it　had　burst　in　upon　them；　no　trace　of　its　transformed　state　remained；　it　was　only　a　ceiling　again。　The　rain　of　debris　included　chunks　of　wallboard；　flaked　and　powdered　drywall　paste；　splinters　of　wood；　and　wads　of　fluffy　Fiberglas　insulation…but　nothing　alive。　
　The　hole　itself　was　astonishing　enough　to　Holly。　
　Two　nights　ago；　in　the　motel；　though　the　wall　had　bulged　and　rippled　as　if　alive；　it　had　returned　to　its　true　position　without　a　crack。　No　evidence　of　the　dream…creature's　intrusion　had　been　left　behind　except　the　scratches　in　her　sides；　which　a　psychologist　might　have　said　were　self　inflicted。　When　the　dust　settled；　everything　might　have　been　just　a　fantastically　detailed　delusion。　
　But　the　mess　in　which　they　were　now　standing　was　no　delusion。　The　pall　of　white　dust　in　the　air　was　real。　
　In　a　state　of　shock；　Jim　took　her　hand　and　led　her　out　of　the　bathroom。　
　The　bedroom　ceiling　had　not　crashed　down。　It　was　as　it　had　been　last　night：　smooth；　white。　But　the　furniture　was　piled　up　against　the　door　as　if　washed　there　by　a　flood。　
　Madness　favored　darkness；　but　light　was　the　kingdom　of　reason。　If　the　waking　world　provided　no　sanctuary　from　nightmares；　if　daylight　offered　no　sanctuary　from　unreason；　then　there　was　no　sanctuary　anywhere；　anytime；　for　anyone。　
　The　attic　light；　a　single　sixty…watt　bulb　dangling　from　a　beam；　did　not　illuminate　every　corner　of　that　cramped　and　dusty　space。　
　Jim　probed　into　the　many　recesses　with　a　flashlight；　edged　around　heating　ducts；　peered　behind　each　of　the　two　fireplace　chimneys；　searching　for。　。　。　whatever　had　torn　apart　the　bathroom　ceiling。　He　had　no　idea　what　he　expected　to　find。　Besides　the　flashlight；　he　carried　a　loaded　revolver。　The　thing　that　destroyed　the　ceiling　had　not　descended　into　the　bathroom；　so　it　had　to　be　in　the　attic　above。　
　However；　because　he　lived　with　a　minimum　of　possessions；　Jim　had　nothing　to　store　up　there　under　the　roof；　which　left　few　possible　hiding　places。　
　He　was　soon　satisfied　that　those　high　reaches　of　his　house