dk.coldfire-第56部分

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livion；　but　she　found　that　she　did　not　possess　the　strength　or　will　to　sit　up。　。　。　or　to　open　her　eyes。　
　Her　eyes　were　closed。　She　had　not　realized　that　her　eyes　were　closed。　
　Dreams　are　doorways。　Panic　could　not　arouse　her。　She　continued　to　drift　deeper　under　the　sandman's　spell　even　as　she　heard　her　heart　pound　harder　and　faster。　She　felt　her　hand　loosening　its　grip　on　Jim's　hand；　and　she　knew　he　would　respond　to　that　warning；　would　keep　her　awake；　but　she　felt　his　grip　loosening　on　her　hand；　and　she　realized　they　were　succumbing　to　the　sandman　simultaneously。　
　She　drifted　in　darkness。　
　She　felt　that　she　was　being　watched。　
　It　was　both　a　reassuring　and　a　frightening　feeling。　
　Something　was　going　to　happen。　She　sensed　it。　
　For　a　while；　however；　nothing　happened。　Except　darkness。　
　Then　she　became　aware　that　she　had　a　mission　to　perform。　
　But　that　couldn't　be　right。　Jim　was　the　one　who　was　sent　on　missions　not　her。　
　A　mission。　Her　mission。　She　would　be　sent　on　a　mission　of　her　own。　
　It　was　vitally　important。　Her　life　depended　on　how　well　she　performed。　
　Jim's　life　depended　on　it　as　well。　The　whole　world's　continued　existence　depended　on　it。　
　But　the　darkness　remained。　
　She　just　drifted。　It　felt　nice。　
　She　slept　and　slept。　
　At　some　point　during　the　night；　she　dreamed。　As　nightmares　went；　this　one　was　a　lulu；　all　the　stops　pulled　out；　but　it　was　nothing　like　her　recent　dreams　of　the　mill　and　The　Enemy。　It　was　worse　than　those　because　it　was　painted　in　excruciating　detail　and　because　throughout　the　experience　she　was　in　the　grip　of　anguish　and　terror　so　intense　that　nothing　in　her　experience　prepared　her　for　it；　not　even　the　crash　of　Flight　246。　
　Lying　on　a　tile　floor；　under　a　table。　On　her　side。　Peering　out　at　floor　level。　Directly　ahead　is　a　chair；　tubular　metal　and　orange　plastic；　under　the　chair　a　scattering　of　golden　french　fries　and　a　cheeseburger；　the　meat　having　slid　halfway　out　of　the　bun　on　a　skid　of　ketchup…greased　lettuce。　
　Then　a　woman；　an　old　lady；　also　lying　on　the　floor；　head　turned　toward　Holly。　Looking　through　the　tubular　legs　of　the　chair；　across　the　fries　and　disarranged　burger；　the　lady　stares　at　her；　a　look　of　surprise；　stares　and　stares；　never　blinking；　and　then　Holly　sees　that　the　lady's　eye　nearest　the　floor　isn't　there　any　more；　an　empty　hole；　blood　leaking　out。　Oh；　lady。　Oh；　lady；　I'm　sorry；　I'm　so　sorry。　Holly　hears　a　terrible　sound；　chuda…chudachuda…chuda…chuda…chuda…chuda；　doesn't　recognize　it；　hears　people　screaming；　a　lot　of　people；　chuda…chuda…chuda…chuda；　still　screaming　but　not　as　much　as　before；　glass　shattering；　wood　breaking；　a　man　shouting　like　a　bear；　roaring；　very　angry　and　roaring；　chuda…chuda…chuda…chuduchuda…chuda…chuda…chuda。　
　She　knows　now　that　it's　gunfire；　the　heavy　rhythmic　pounding　of　an　automatic　weapon；　and　she　wants　to　get　out　of　there。　So　she　turns　in　the　opposite　direction　from　which　she's　been　facing　because　she　doesn't　want　to…can't；　just　can't！　crawl　by　the　old　lady　whose　eye　has　been　shot　out。　But　behind　her　is　a　little　girl；　about　eight；　lying　on　the　floor　in　a　pink　dress　with　black　patent…leather　shoes　and　white　socks；　a　little　girl　with　white…blond　hair；　a　little　girl　with；　a　little　girl　with；　a　little　girl　with　patent…leather　shoes；　a　little　girl　with；　a　little　girl　with；　a　little　girl　with　white　socks；　a　little　girl　with；　a　little　girl　with　with　with　with　with　half　her　face　shot　of。　A　red　smile。　Broken　white　teeth　in　a　red；　lopsided　smile。　Sobbing；　screaming；　and　still　more　chuda…chuda…chudachuda；　it's　never　going　to　stop；　it's　going　to　go　on　forever；　that　terrible　sound；　chuda…chuda…chuda。　Then　Holly's　moving；　scrambling　on　her　hands　and　knees；　away　from　both　the　old　lady　and　the　little　girl　with　half　a　face。　
　Unavoidably　her　hands　slap…skip…skid…slide　through　warm　french　fries；　a　hot　fish　sandwich；　a　puddle　of　mustard；　as　she　moves；　moves；　staying　under　the　tables；　between　the　chairs；　then　she　puts　her　hand　down　in　the　icy　slush　of　a　spilled　Coke；　and　when　she　sees　the　image　of　Dixie　Duck　on　the　large　paper　cup　from　which　the　soda　has　spilled；　she　knows　where　she　is；　she's　in　a　Dixie　Duck　Burger　Palace；　one　of　her　favorite　places　in　the　world。　Nobody's　screaming　now；　maybe　they　realize　that　a　Dixie　Duck　is　not　a　place　you　should　scream；　but　somebody　is　sobbing　and　groaning；　and　somebody　else　is　saying　please…please…please…please　over　and　over　again。　
　Holly　starts　to　crawl　out　from　under　another　table；　and　she　sees　a　man　in　a　costume　standing　a　few　feet　from　her；　turned　half　away　from　her；　and　she　thinks　maybe　this　is　all　just　a　trick；　trick…or…treat；　a　Halloween　performance。　But　it　isn't　Halloween。　Yet　the　man　is　in　a　costume　he's　wearing　bat　boots　like　G。I。　Joe　and　camouflage　pants　and　a　black　T…shirt　and　a　beret；　like　the　Green　Berets　wear；　only　this　one　is　black；　and　it　must　be　a　costume　because　he　isn't　really　a　soldier；　can't　be　a　soldier　with　that　big　sloppy　belly　overhanging　his　pants；　and　he　hasn't　shaved　in　maybe　a　week；　soldiers　have　to　shave；　so　he's　only　wearing　soldier　stuff　This　girl　is　kneeling　on　the　floor　in　front　of　him；　one　of　the　teenagers　who　works　at　Dixie　Duck；　the　pretty　one　with　the　red　hair；　she　winked　at　Holly　when　she　took　her　order；　now　she's　kneeling　in　front　of　the　guy　in　the　soldier　costume；　with　her　head　bowed　like　she's　praying；　except　what　she's　saying　is　please　please…please…please。　The　guy　is　shouting　at　her　about　the　CIA　and　mind　control　and　secret　spy　networks　operated　out　of　the　Dixie　Duck　storeroom。　Then　the　guy　stops　shouting　and　he　looks　at　the　red…haired　girl　awhile；　just　looks　down　at　her；　and　then　he　says　look…at…me；　and　she　says　please…please…don't；　and　he　says　look…at…me　again；　so　she　raises　her　head　and　looks　at　him；　and　he　says　what…do…you…think…I…am…stupid？　The　girl　is　so　scared；　she　is　just　so　scared；　and　she　says　no…please…I…don't…know…anything…about…this；　and　he　says　like…shit…you…don't；　and　he　lowers　the　big　gun；　he　puts　the　big　gun　right　there　in　her　face；　just　maybe　an　inch　or　two　from　her　face。　
　She　says　oh…my…god…oh…my…god；　and　he　says　you're…one…of　the…rat…people；　and　Holly　is　sure　the　guy　will　now　throw　the　gun　aside　and　laugh；　and　everyone　playing　dead　people　will　get　up　and　laugh；　too；　and　the　manager　will　e　out　and　take　bows　for　the　Halloween　performance；　except　it　isn't　Halloween。　Then　the　guy　pulls　the　trigger；　chuda…chudachuda…chuda…chuda；　and　the　red…haired　girl　dissolves。　Holly　eels　around　and　heads　back　the　way　she　came；　moving　so　fast；　trying　to　get　away　from　him　before　he　sees　her；　because　he's　crazy；　that's　what　he　is；　he's　a　crazyman。　Holly　is　splashing　through　the　same　spilled　food　and　drinks　that　she　splashed　through　before；　past　the　little　girl　in　the　pink　dress　and　right　through　the　girl's　blood；　praying　the　crazyman　can't　hear　her　scuttling　away　from　him。　
　CHUDA…CHUDA…CHUDA…CHUDA…CHUDACHUDA！　But　he　must　be　shooting　the　other　direction；　because　no　bullets　are　smashing　into　anything　around　her；　so　she　keeps　going；　right　across　a　dead　man　with　his　insides　ing　out；　hearing　sirens　now；　sirens　wailing　outside；　the　cops'll　get　this　crazyman。　Then　she　hears　a　crash　behind　her；　a　table　being　overturned；　and　it　sounds　so　close；　she　looks　back；　she　sees　him；　the　crazyman；　he's　ing　straight　toward　her；　pushing　tables　out　of　his　way；　kicking　aside　chairs；　he　sees　her。　She　clambers　over　another　dead　woman　and　then　she's　in　a　corner；　on　top　of　a　dead　man　who's　slumped　in　the　corner；　she's　in　the　lap　of　the　dead　man；　in　the　arms　of　the　dead　man　and　no　way　to　get　out　of　there　because　the　crazyman　is　ing。　The　crazyman　looks　so　scary；　so　bad　and　scary；　that　she　can't　watch　him　ing；　doesn't　want　to　see　the　gun　in　her　face　the　way　the　red…haired　girl　saw　it；　so　she　turns　her　head　away；　turns　her　face　to　the　dead　man　She　woke　from　the　dream　as　she　had　never　awakened　from　another；　not　screaming；　not　even　with　an　unvoiced　cry　caught　in　her　throat；　but　gagging。　She　was　curled　into　a　tight　ball；　hugging　herself；　dry…heaving；　choking　not　on　anything　she　had　eaten　but　on　sheer　throat…clogging　repulsion。　
　Jim　was　turned　away　from　her；　lying　on　his　side。　His　knees　were　drawn　up　slightly　in　a　modified　fetal　position。　He　was　still　sound　asleep。　
　When　she　could　get　her　breath；　she　sat　up。　She　was　not　merely　shaking；　she　was　rattling。　She　was　convinced　she　could　hear　her　bones　clattering　against　one　another。　
　She　was　glad　that　she　had　not　eaten　anything　after　the　doughnuts　last　evening。　They　had　passed　through　her　stomach　hours　ago。　If　she　had　eaten　anything　else；　she'd　be　wearing　it　now。　
　She　hunched　forward　and　put　her　face　in　her　hands。　She　sat　like　that　until　the　rattling　quieted　to　a　shudder　and　the　shudder　faded　to　spasms　of　shivering。　
　When　she　raised　her　face　from　her　hands；　the　first　thing　she　noticed　was　daylight　at　the　narrow　windows　of　the　high　room。　It　was　opalescent　graypink；　a　weak　glow　rather　than　a　sunny…blue　glare；　but　daylight　nonetheless。　
　Seeing　it；　she　realized　that　she　had　not　been　convinced　she　would　ever　see　daylight　again。　
　She　looked　at　her　wristwatch。　6：10。　Dawn　must　have　broken　only　a　short　while　ago。　She　could　have　been　asleep　only　two　to　two　and　a　half　hours。　
　It　had　been　worse　than　no　sleep　at　all；　she　did　not　feel　in　the　least　rested。　
　The　dream。　She　suspected　that　The　Friend　had　used　its　telepathic　power　to　push　her　down　into　sleep　against　her　will。　And　because　of　the　unusually　intense　nature　of　the　nightmare；　she　was　convinced　it　had　sent　her　that　gruesome　reel　of　mind…film。　
　But　why？　Jim　murmured　and　stirred；　then　grew　still　again；　breathing　deeply　but　quietly。　His　dream　must　not　be　the　same　one　she'd　had；　if　it　was；　he　would　be　writhing　and　crying　out　like　a　man　on　the　rack。　
　She　sat　for　a　while；　considering　the　dream；　wondering　if　she　had　been　shown　a　prophetic　vision。　Was　The　Friend　warning　her　that　she　was　going　to　wind　up　in　a　Dixie　Duck　Burger　Palace　scrambling　for　her　life　through　food　and　blood；　stalked　by　a　raving　maniac　with　an　automatic　carbine？　She　had　never　even　heard　of　Dixie　Duck；　and　she　couldn't　imagine　a　more　ludicrous　place　to　die。　
　She　was　living　in　a　society　where　the　streets　were　crawling　with　casualties　of　the　drug　wars；　some　of　them　so　brain…blasted　that　they　might　well　pick