sk.thetalisman-第152节

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。　Marbles　were　round　and　so　was　the　Talisman。
　　Light　broke　in　his　reeling　mind。
　　Holding　Richard；　Jack　slowly　rolled　the　Talisman　down　the　length　of　his　body。　After　he　reached　Richard's　chest；　Richard　stopped　struggling。　Jack　thought　he　had　probably　fainted；　but　a　quick　glance　showed　him　this　wasn't　so。　Richard　was　staring　at　him　with　dawning　wonder　。　。　。
　　。　。　。　and　the　pimples　on　his　face　were　gone！　The　hard　red　bumps　were　fading！
　　'Richard！'　he　yelled；　laughing　like　a　crazy　loon。　'Hey；　Richard；　look　at　this！　Bwana　make　juju！'　
　　He　rolled　the　Talisman　slowly　down　over　Richard's　belly；　using　his　palm。　The　Talisman　glowed　brightly；　singing　a　clear；　wordless　harmonic　of　health　and　healing。　Down　over　Richard's　crotch。　Jack　moved　Richard's　thin　legs　together　and　rolled　it　down　the　groove　between　them　to　Richard's　ankles。　The　Talisman　glowed　bright　blue　。　。　。　deep　red　。　。　。　yellow　。　。　。　the　green　of　June　meadow…grass。
　　Then　it　was　white　again。
　　'Jack；'　Richard　whispered。　'Is　that　what　we　came　for？'
　　'Yes。'
　　'It's　beautiful；'　Richard　said。　He　hesitated。　'May　I　hold　it？'
　　Jack　felt　a　sudden　twist　of　Scrooge…miserliness。　He　snatched　the　Talisman　close　to　himself　for　a　moment。　No！　You　might　break　it！　Besides；　it's　mine！　I　crossed　the　country　for　it！　I　fought　the　knights　for　it！　You　can't　have　it！　Mine！　Mine！　Mi…
　　In　his　hands　the　Talisman　suddenly　radiated　a　terrible　chill；　and　for　a　moment…a　moment　more　frightening　to　Jack　than　all　the　earthquakes　in　all　the　worlds　that　ever　had　been　or　ever　would　be…it　turned　a　Gothic　black。　Its　white　light　was　extinguished。　In　its　rich；　thundery；　thanatropic　interior　he　saw　the　black　hotel。　On　turrets　and　gambrels　and　gables；　on　the　roofs　of　cupolas　which　bulged　like　warts　stuffed　with　thick　malignancies；　the　cabalistic　symbols　turned…wolf　and　crow　and　twisted　genital　star。
　　Would　you　be　the　new　Agincourt；　then？　the　Talisman　whispered。　Even　a　boy　can　be　a　hotel　。　。　。　if　he　would　be。
　　His　mother's　voice；　clear　in　his　head：　If　you　don't　want　to　share　it；　Jack…O；　if　you　can't　bring　yourself　to　risk　it　for　your　friend；　then　you　might　as　well　stay　where　you　are。　If　you　can't　bring　yourself　to　share　the　prize…risk　the　prize…don't　even　bother　to　e　home。　Kids　hear　that　shit　all　their　lives；　but　when　it　es　time　to　put　up　or　shut　up；　it's　never　quite　the　same；　is　it？　If　you　can't　share　it；　let　me　die；　chum；　because　I　don't　want　to　live　at　that　price。
　　The　weight　of　the　Talisman　suddenly　seemed　immense；　the　weight　of　dead　bodies。　Yet　somehow　Jack　lifted　it；　and　put　it　in　Richard's　hands。　His　hands　were　white　and　skeletal　。　。　。　but　Richard　held　it　easily；　and　Jack　realized　that　sensation　of　weight　had　been　only　his　own　imagination；　his　own　twisted　and　sickly　wanting。　As　the　Talisman　flashed　into　glorious　white　light　again；　Jack　felt　his　own　interior　darkness　pass　from　him。　It　occurred　to　him　dimly　that　you　could　only　express　your　ownership　of　a　thing　in　terms　of　how　freely　you　could　give　it　up　。　。　。　and　then　that　thought　passed。
　　Richard　smiled；　and　the　smile　made　his　face　beautiful。　Jack　had　seen　Richard　smile　many　times；　but　there　was　a　peace　in　this　smile　he　had　never　seen　before；　it　was　a　peace　which　passed　his　understanding。　In　the　Talisman's　white；　healing　light；　he　saw　that　Richard's　face；　although　still　ravaged　and　haggard　and　sickly；　was　healing。　He　hugged　the　Talisman　against　his　chest　as　if　it　were　a　baby；　and　smiled　at　Jack　with　shining　eyes。
　　'If　this　is　the　Seabrook　Island　Express；'　he　said；　'I　may　just　buy　a　season　ticket。　If　we　ever　get　out　of　this。'
　　'You　feel　better？'
　　Richard's　smile　shone　like　the　Talisman's　light。　'Worlds　better；'　he　said。　'Now　help　me　up；　Jack。'
　　Jack　moved　to　take　his　shoulder。　Richard　held　out　the　Talisman。
　　'Better　take　this　first；'　he　said。　'I'm　still　weak；　and　it　wants　to　go　back　with　you。　I　feel　that。'
　　Jack　took　it　and　helped　Richard　up。　Richard　put　an　arm　around　Jack's　neck。
　　'You　ready　。　。　。　chum？'
　　'Yeah；'　Richard　said。　'Ready。　But　I　somehow　think　the　seagoing　route's　out；　Jack。　I　think　I　heard　the　deck　out　there　collapse　during　the　Big　Rumble。'
　　'We're　going　out　the　front　door；'　Jack　said。　'Even　if　God　put　down　a　gangway　over　the　ocean　from　the　windows　back　there　to　the　beach；　I'd　still　go　out　the　front　door。　We　ain't　ditching　this　place；　Richie。　We're　going　out　like　paying　guests。　I　feel　like　I've　paid　plenty。　What　do　you　think？'　
　　Richard　held　out　one　thin　hand；　palm…up。　Healing　red　blemishes　still　glared　on　it。
　　'I　think　we　ought　to　go　for　it；'　he　said。　'Gimme　some　skin；　Jacky。'
　　Jack　slapped　his　palm　down　on　Richard's；　and　then　the　two　of　them　started　back　toward　the　hallway；　Richard　with　one　arm　around　Jack's　neck。
　　Halfway　down　the　hall；　Richard　stared　at　the　litter　of　dead　metal。　'What　in　heck？'
　　'Coffee　cans；'　Jack　said；　and　smiled。　'Maxwell　House。'
　　'Jack；　what　in　the　world　are　you　t…'
　　'Never　mind；　Richard；'　Jack　said。　He　was　grinning；　and　he　still　felt　good；　but　wires　of　tension　were　working　into　his　body　again　just　the　same。　The　earthquake　was　over　。　。　。　but　it　wasn't　over。　Morgan　would　be　waiting　for　them　now。　And　Gardener。
　　Never　mind。　Let　it　e　down　the　way　it　will。
　　They　reached　the　lobby　and　Richard　looked　around　wonderingly　at　the　stairs；　the　broken　registration　desk；　the　tumbled　trophies　and　flagstands。　The　stuffed　head　of　a　black　bear　had　its　nose　in　one　of　the　pigeonholes　of　the　mail　depository；　as　if　smelling　something　good…honey；　perhaps。
　　'Wow；'　Richard　said。　'Whole　place　just　about　fell　down。'
　　Jack　got　Richard　over　to　the　double　doors；　and　observed　Richard's　almost　greedy　appreciation　of　that　little　spray　of　sunlight。
　　'Are　you　really　ready　for　this；　Richard？'
　　'Yes。'
　　'Your　father's　out　there。'
　　'No；　he's　not。　He's　dead。　All　that's　out　there　is　his　。　。　。　what　do　you　call　it？　His　Twinner。'
　　'Oh。'
　　Richard　nodded。　In　spite　of　the　Talisman's　proximity；　he　was　beginning　to　look　exhausted　again。　'Yes。'
　　'There's　apt　to　be　a　hell　of　a　fight。'
　　'Well；　I'll　do　what　I　can。'
　　'I　love　you；　Richard。'　
　　Richard　smiled　wanly。　'I　love　you；　too；　Jack。　Now　let's　go　for　it　before　I　lose　my　nerve。'
　　　
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　　Sloat　really　believed　he　had　everything　under　control…the　situation；　of　course；　but　more　important；　himself。　He　went　right　on　believing　this　until　he　saw　his　son；　obviously　weak；　obviously　sick；　but　still　very　much　alive；　e　out　of　the　black　hotel　with　his　arm　around　Jack　Sawyer's　neck　and　his　head　leaning　against　Jack's　shoulder。
　　Sloat　had　also　believed　he　finally　had　his　feelings　about　Phil　Sawyer's　brat　under　control…it　was　his　previous　rage　that　had　caused　him　to　miss　Jack；　first　at　the　Queen's　pavillion；　then　in　the　midwest。　Christ；　he　had　crossed　Ohio　unscathed…and　Ohio　was　only　an　eyeblink　from　Orris；　that　other　Morgan's　stronghold。　But　his　fury　had　led　to　uncontrolled　behavior；　and　so　the　boy　had　slipped　through。　He　had　suppressed　his　rage…but　now　it　flared　up　with　wicked　and　unbridled　freedom。　It　was　as　if　someone　had　hosed　kerosene　on　a　well…banked　fire。
　　His　son；　still　alive。　And　his　beloved　son；　to　whom　he　had　meant　to　turn　over　the　kingship　of　worlds　and　universes；　was　leaning　on　Sawyer　for　support。
　　Nor　was　that　all。　Glimmering　and　flashing　in　Sawyer's　hands　like　a　star　which　had　fallen　to　earth　was　the　Talisman。　Even　from　here　Sloat　could　feel　it…it　was　as　if　the　planet's　gravitational　field　had　suddenly　gotten　stronger；　pulling　him　down；　making　his　heart　labor；　as　if　time　were　speeding　up；　drying　out　his　flesh；　dimming　his　eyes。
　　'It　hurts！'　Gardener　wailed　beside　him。
　　Most　of　the　Wolfs　who　had　stood　up　to　the　quake　and　rallied　to　Morgan　were　now　reeling　away；　hands　before　their　faces。　A　couple　of　them　were　vomiting　helplessly。
　　Morgan　felt　a　moment　of　swooning　fear　。　。　。　and　then　his　rage；　his　excitement；　and　the　lunacy　that　had　been　feeding　on　his　increasingly　grandiose　dreams　of　overlordship…these　things　burst　apart　the　webbing　of　his　self…control。
　　He　raised　his　thumbs　to　his　ears　and　slammed　them　deep　inside；　so　deep　it　hurt。　Then　he　stuck　out　his　tongue　and　waggled　his　fingers　at　Mr。　Jack　Dirty　Motherfuck　and　Soon…to…be…Dead　Sawyer。　A　moment　later　his　upper　teeth　descended　like　a　drop…gate　and　seered　the　tip　of　his　wagging　tongue。　Sloat　didn't　even　notice　it。　He　seized　Gardener　by　the　flak…vest。
　　Gardener's　face　was　moony　with　fear。　'They're　out；　he's　got　IT；　Morgan　。　。　。　my　Lord　。　。　。　we　ought　to　run；　we　must　run…'
　　'SHOOT　HIM！'　Morgan　screamed　into　Gardener's　face。　Blood　from　his　severed　tongue　flew　in　a　fine　spray。　'SHOOT　HIM；　YOU　ETHIOPIAN　JUG…FUCKER；　HE　KILLED　YOUR　BOY！　SHOOT　HIM　AND　SHOOT　THE　FUCKING　TALISMAN！　SHOOT　RIGHT　THROUGH　HIS　ARMS　AND　BREAK　IT！'
　　Sloat　now　began　to　dance　slowly　up　and　down　before　Gardener；　his　face　working　horribly；　his　thumbs　back　in　his　ears；　his　fingers　waggling　beside　his　head；　his　amputated　tongue　popping　in　and　out　of　his　mouth　like　one　of　those　New　Year's　Eve　party　favors　that　unroll　with　a　tooting　sound。　He　looked　like　a　murderous　child…hilarious；　and　at　the　same　time　awful。
　　'HE　KILLED　YOUR　SON！　AVENGE　YOUR　SON！　SHOOT　HIM！　SHOOT　IT！　YOU　SHOT　HIS　FATHER；　NOW　SHOOT　HIM！'