sk.thetalisman-第147节

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　of　his　inner　thighs；　where　they　were　almost　always　hidden　by　his　clothes。　Morgan…this　one　as　well　as　that　one…had　not　loved　the　Queen　any　better　for　her　intercession　。　。　。　but　his　hatred　for　Parkus；　who　had　sniffed　out　that　earlier　plot；　had　grown　exponentially。
　　Now　Parkus/Parker　lay　face…down　on　the　beach；　his　skull　covered　with　festering　sores。　Blood　dribbled　listlessly　from　his　ears。
　　Morgan　wanted　to　believe　that　Parker　was　still　alive；　still　suffering；　but　the　last　discernible　rise　and　fall　of　his　back　had　been　just　after　he　and　Gardener　arrived　down　here　at　these　rocks；　some　five　minutes　ago。
　　When　Gardener　called；　Morgan　didn't　turn　because　he　was　rapt　in　his　study　of　his　old　enemy；　now　fallen。　Whoever　had　claimed　revenge　wasn't　sweet　had　been　so　wrong。
　　'Morgan！'　Gardener　hissed　again。
　　Morgan　turned　this　time；　frowning。　'Well？　What？'
　　'Look！　The　roof　of　the　hotel！'
　　Morgan　saw　that　all　of　the　weathercocks　and　roof　ornaments…beaten　brass　shapes　which　spun　at　exactly　the　same　speed　whether　the　wind　was　perfectly　calm　or　howling　up　a　hurricane…had　stopped　moving。　At　the　same　instant　the　earth　rippled　briefly　under　their　feet　and　then　was　still　again。　It　was　as　if　a　subterranean　beast　of　enormous　size　had　shrugged　in　its　hibernal　sleep。　Morgan　would　almost　have　believed　he　had　imagined　it　if　it　had　not　been　for　the　widening　of　Gardener's　bloodshot　eyes。　I'll　bet　you　wish　you　never　left　Indiana；　Gard；　Morgan　thought。　No　earthquakes　in　Indiana；　right？
　　Silent　light　flashed　in　all　of　the　Agincourt's　windows　again。
　　'What　does　it　mean；　Morgan？'　Gardener　asked　hoarsely。　His　insane　fury　over　the　loss　of　his　son　had　for　the　first　time　moderated　into　fear　for　himself；　Morgan　saw。　That　was　a　bore；　but　he　could　be　whipped　back　into　his　previous　frenzy　again；　if　necessary。　It　was　just　that　Morgan　hated　to　have　to　waste　energy　on　anything　at　this　point　that　didn't　bear　directly　on　the　problem　of　ridding　the　world…all　the　worlds…of　Jack　Sawyer；　who　had　begun　as　a　pest　and　who　had　developed　into　the　most　monstrous　problem　of　Sloat's　life。
　　Gardener's　pack…set　squawked。
　　'Red　Squad　Leader　Four　to　the　Sunlight　Man！　e　in；　Sunlight　Man！'
　　'Sunlight　Man　here；　Red　Squad　Leader　Four；'　Gardener　snapped。　'What's　up？'
　　In　quick　succession　Gardener　took　four　gabbling；　excited　reports　that　were　all　exactly　the　same。　There　was　no　intelligence　the　two　of　them　hadn't　seen　and　felt　for　themselves…flashes　of　light；　weathercocks　at　a　standstill；　something　that　might　have　been　a　ground…tremblor　or　possibly　an　earthquake　preshock…but　Gardener　labored　with　sharp…eyed　enthusiasm　over　each　report　just　the　same；　asking　sharp　questions；　snapping　'Over！'　at　the　end　of　each　transmission；　sometimes　breaking　in　with　'Say　again'　or　'Roger。'　Sloat　thought　he　was　acting　like　a　bit　player　in　a　disaster　movie。
　　But　if　it　eased　him；　that　was　fine　with　Sloat。　It　saved　him　from　having　to　answer　Gardener's　question　。　。　。　and　now　that　he　thought　about　it；　he　supposed　it　was　just　possible　that　Gardener　didn't　want　his　question　answered；　and　that　was　why　he　was　going　through　this　rigmarole　with　the　radio。
　　The　Guardians　were　dead；　or　out　of　mission。　That　was　why　the　weathercocks　had　stopped；　and　that's　what　the　flashes　of　light　meant。　Jack　didn't　have　the　Talisman　。　。　。　at　least；　not　yet。　If　he　got　that；　things　in　Point　Venuti　would　really　shake；　rattle；　and　roll。　And　Sloat　now　thought　that　Jack　would　get　it　。　。　。　that　he　had　always　been　meant　to　get　it。　This　did　not　frighten　him；　however。
　　His　hand　reached　up　and　touched　the　key　around　his　neck。
　　Gardener　had　run　out　of　overs　and　rogers　and　ten…fours。　He　reshouldered　the　pack…set　and　looked　at　Morgan　with　wide；　frightened　eyes。　Before　he　could　say　a　word；　Morgan　put　gentle　hands　on　Gardener's　shoulders。　If　he　could　feel　love　for　anyone　other　than　his　poor　dead　son；　he　felt　love…of　a　twisted　variety；　most　certainly…for　this　man。　They　went　back　a　long　way；　both　as　Morgan　of　Orris　and　Osmond　and　as　Morgan　Sloat　and　Robert　'Sunlight'　Gardener。
　　It　had　been　with　a　rifle　much　like　the　one　now　slung　over　Gardener's　shoulder　that　Gardener　had　shot　Phil　Sawyer　in　Utah。
　　'Listen；　Gard；'　he　said　calmly。　'We　are　going　to　win。'
　　'Are　you　sure　of　that？'　Gardener　whispered。　'I　think　he's　killed　the　Guardians；　Morgan。　I　know　that　sounds　crazy；　but　I　realy　think…'　He　stopped；　mouth　trembling　infirmly；　lips　sheened　with　a　thin　membrane　of　spittle。
　　'We　are　going　to　win；'　Morgan　repeated　in　that　same　calm　voice；　and　he　meant　it。　There　was　a　sense　of　clear　predestination　in　him。　He　had　waited　many　years　for　this；　his　resolve　had　been　true；　it　remained　true　now。　Jack　would　e　out　with　the　Talisman　in　his　arms。　It　was　a　thing　of　immense　power　。　。　。　but　it　was　fragile。
　　He　looked　at　the　scoped　Weatherbee；　which　could　drop　a　charging　rhino；　and　then　he　touched　the　key　that　brought　the　lightning。
　　'We're　well　equipped　to　deal　with　him　when　he　es　out；'　Morgan　said；　and　added；　'In　either　world。　Just　as　long　as　you　keep　your　courage；　Gard。　As　long　as　you　stick　right　by　me。'
　　The　trembling　lips　firmed　a　bit。　'Morgan；　of　course　I'll…'
　　'Remember　who　killed　your　son；'　Morgan　said　softly。
　　At　the　same　instant　that　Jack　Sawyer　had　jammed　the　burning　coin　into　the　forehead　of　a　monstrosity　in　the　Territories；　Reuel　Gardener；　who　had　been　afflicted　with　relatively　harmless　petit　mal　epileptic　seizures　ever　since　the　age　of　six　（the　same　age　at　which　Osmond's　son　had　begun　to　show　signs　of　what　was　called　Blasted　Lands　Sickness）；　apparently　suffered　a　grand　mal　seizure　in　the　back　of　a　Wolf…driven　Cadillac　on　I…70；　westbound　to　California　from　Illinois。
　　He　had　died；　purple　and　strangling；　in　Sunlight　Gardener's　arms。
　　Gardener's　eyes　now　began　to　bulge。
　　'Remember；'　Morgan　repeated　softly。
　　'Bad；'　Gardener　whispered。　'All　boys。　Axiomatic。　That　boy　in　particular。'
　　'Right！'　Morgan　agreed。　'Hold　that　thought！　We　can　stop　him；　but　I　want　to　make　damn　sure　that　he　can　only　e　out　of　the　hotel　on　dry　land。'　
　　He　led　Gardener　down　to　the　rock　where　he　had　been　watching　Parker。　Flies…bloated　albino　flies…had　begun　to　light　on　the　dead　nigger；　Morgan　observed。　That　was　just　as　fine　as　paint　with　him。　If　there　had　been　a　Variety　magazine　for　flies；　Morgan　would　gladly　have　bought　space；　advertising　Parker's　location。　e　one；　e　all。　They　would　lay　their　eggs　in　the　folds　of　his　decaying　flesh；　and　the　man　who　had　scarred　his　Twinner's　thighs　would　give　birth　to　maggots。　That　was　fine　indeed。
　　He　pointed　out　toward　the　dock。
　　'The　raft's　under　there；'　he　said。　'It　looks　like　a　horse；　Christ　knows　why。　It's　in　the　shadows；　I　know。　But　you　were　always　a　hell　of　a　shot。　If　you　can　pick　it　up；　Gard；　put　a　couple　of　bullets　in　it。　Sink　the　fucking　thing。'　
　　Gardener　unshouldered　the　rifle　and　peered　into　the　scope。　For　a　long　time　the　muzzle　of　the　big　gun　wandered　minutely　back　and　forth。
　　'I　see　it；'　Gardener　whispered　in　a　gloating　voice；　and　triggered　the　gun。　The　echo　pealed　off　across　the　water　in　a　long　curl　that　at　last　Dopplered　away　into　nothing。　The　barrel　of　the　gun　rose；　then　came　back　down。　Gardener　fired　again。　And　again。
　　'I　got　it；'　Gardener　said；　lowering　the　gun。　He'd　got　his　courage　back；　his　pecker　was　up　again。　He　was　smiling　the　way　he　had　been　smiling　when　he　had　e　back　from　that　errand　in　Utah。　'It's　just　a　dead　skin　on　the　water　now。　You　want　a　look　in　the　scope？'　He　offered　the　rifle　to　Sloat。
　　'No；'　Sloat　said。　'If　you　say　you　got　it；　you　got　it。　Now　he　has　to　e　out　by　land；　and　we　know　what　direction　he'll　be　ing　in。　I　think　he'll　have　what's　been　in　our　way　for　so　many　years。'　
　　Gardener　looked　at　him；　shiny…eyed。
　　'I　suggest　that　we　move　up　there。'　He　pointed　to　the　old　boardwalk。　It　was　just　inside　the　fence　where　he　had　spent　so　many　hours　watching　the　hotel　and　thinking　about　what　was　in　the　ballroom。
　　'All　r…'
　　That　was　when　the　earth　began　to　groan　and　heave　under　their　feet…that　subterranean　creature　had　awakened；　it　was　shaking　itself　and　roaring。
　　At　the　same　instant；　dazzling　white　light　filled　every　window　of　the　Agincourt…the　light　of　a　thousand　suns。　The　windows　blew　out　all　at　once。　Glass　flew　in　diamond　showers。
　　'REMEMBER　YOUR　SON　AND　FOLLOW　ME！'　Sloat　roared。　That　sense　of　predestination　was　clear　in　him　now；　clear　and　undeniable。　He　was　meant　to　win；　after　all。
　　The　two　of　them　began　to　run　up　the　heaving　beach　toward　the　boardwalk。
　　　
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　　Jack　moved　slowly；　filled　with　wonder；　across　the　hardwood　ballroom　floor。　He　was　looking　up；　his　eyes　sparkling。　His　face　was　bathed　in　a　clear　white　radiance　that　was　all　colors…sunrise　colors；　sunset　colors；　rainbow　colors。　The　Talisman　hung　in　the　air　high　above　him；　slowly　revolving。
　　It　was　a　crystal　globe　perhaps　three　feet　in　circumference…the　corona　of　its　glow　was　so　brilliant　it　was　impossible　to　tell　exactly　how　big　it　was。　Gracefully　curving　lines　seemed　to　groove　its　surface；　like　lines　of　longitude　and　latitude　。　。　。　and　why　not？　Jack　thought；　still　in　a　deep　daze　of　awe　and　amazement。　It　is　the　world…ALL　worlds…in　microcosm。　More；　it　is　the　axis　of　all　possible　worlds。
　　Singing；　turning；　bl