sk.thetalisman-第157节

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ave　killed　him。　But　an　instant　before　prudence　or　panic　caused　him　in　effect　to　jump　in　front　of　a　moving　truck；　the　same　insight　that　had　told　him　that　Morgan　was　flipping　between　worlds　saved　him　again…Jack　had　learned　the　ways　of　his　adversary。　He　held　his　ground；　again　waiting　for　that　almost　mystical　downbeat。　For　a　fraction　of　a　second　Jack　Sawyer　held　his　breath。　If　Morgan　had　been　a　shade　less　proud　of　his　deviousness；　he　might　well　have　murdered　Jack　Sawyer；　which　he　so　dearly　wished　to　do；　at　that　moment。
　　But　instead；　just　as　Jack　had　thought　it　would；　Morgan's　image　abruptly　departed　the　Territories。　Jack　inhaled。　Speedy's　body　（Parkus's　body；　Jack　realized）　lay　motionless　a　short　distance　away。　The　downbeat　came。　Jack　exhaled　and　flipped　back。
　　A　new　streak　of　glass　divided　the　sand　on　the　Point　Venuti　beach；　glimmeringly　reflecting　the　sudden　beam　of　white　light　which　emanated　from　the　Talisman。
　　'Missed　one；　did　you？'　Morgan　Sloat　whispered　out　of　the　darkness。　Snow　pelted　Jack；　cold　wind　froze　his　limbs；　his　throat；　his　forehead。　A　car's　length　away；　Sloat's　face　hung　before　him；　the　forehead　drawn　up　into　its　familiar　corrugations；　the　bloody　mouth　open。　He　was　extending　the　key　toward　Jack　in　the　storm；　and　a　ridge　of　powdery　snow　adhered　to　the　brown　sleeve　of　his　suit。　Jack　saw　a　black　trail　of　blood　oozing　from　the　left　nostril　of　the　incongruously　small　nose。　Sloat's　eyes；　bloodshot　with　pain；　shone　through　the　dark　air。
　　　
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　　Richard　Sloat　confusedly　opened　his　eyes。　Every　part　of　him　was　cold。　At　first　he　thought；　quite　without　emotion　of　any　kind；　that　he　was　dead。　He　had　fallen　down　somewhere；　probably　down　those　steep；　tricky　steps　at　the　back　of　the　Thayer　School　grandstand。　Now　he　was　cold　and　dead　and　nothing　more　could　happen　to　him。　He　experienced　a　second　of　dizzying　relief。
　　His　head　offered　him　a　fresh　surge　of　pain；　and　he　felt　warm　blood　ooze　out　over　his　cold　hand…both　of　these　sensations　evidence　that；　whatever　he　might　wele　at　the　moment；　Richard　Llewellyn　Sloat　was　not　yet　dead。　He　was　only　a　wounded　suffering　creature。　The　whole　top　of　his　head　seemed　to　have　been　sliced　off。　He　had　no　proper　idea　of　where　he　was。　It　was　cold。　His　eyes　focused　long　enough　to　report　to　him　that　he　was　lying　down　in　the　snow。　Winter　had　happened。　More　snow　dumped　on　him　from　out　of　the　sky。　Then　he　heard　his　father's　voice；　and　everything　returned　to　him。
　　Richard　kept　his　hand　on　top　of　his　head；　but　very　slowly　tilted　his　chin　so　that　he　could　look　in　the　direction　of　his　father's　voice。
　　Jack　Sawyer　was　holding　the　Talisman…that　was　the　next　thing　Richard　took　in。　The　Talisman　was　unbroken。　He　felt　the　return　of　a　portion　of　that　relief　he　had　experienced　when　he'd　thought　he　was　dead。　Even　without　his　glasses；　Richard　could　see　that　Jack　had　an　undefeated；　unbowed　look　that　moved　him　very　deeply。　Jack　looked　like　。　。　。　like　a　hero。　That　was　all。　He　looked　like　a　dirty；　dishevelled；　outrageously　youthful　hero；　wrong　for　the　role　on　almost　every　count；　but　undeniably　still　a　hero。
　　Jack　was　just　Jack　now；　Richard　now　saw。　That　extraordinary　extra　quality；　as　of　a　movie　star　deigning　to　walk　around　as　a　shabbily　dressed　twelve…year…old；　had　gone。　This　made　his　heroism　all　the　more　impressive　to　Richard。
　　His　father　smiled　rapaciously。　But　that　was　not　his　father。　His　father　had　been　hollowed　out　a　long　time　ago…hollowed　out　by　his　envy　of　Phil　Sawyer；　by　the　greed　of　his　ambitions。
　　'We　can　keep　on　going　around　like　this　forever；'　Jack　said。　'I'm　never　going　to　give　you　the　Talisman；　and　you're　never　going　to　be　able　to　destroy　it　with　that　gadget　of　yours。　Give　up。'
　　The　point　of　the　key　in　his　father's　hand　slowly　moved　across　and　down；　and　it；　like　his　father's　greedy　needful　face；　pointed　straight　at　him。
　　'First　I'll　blow　Richard　apart；'　his　father　said。　'Do　you　really　want　to　see　your　pal　Richard　turned　into　bacon？　Hmmmm？　Do　you？　And　of　course　I　won't　hesitate　to　do　the　same　favor　for　that　pest　beside　him。'
　　Jack　and　Sloat　exchanged　short　glances。　His　father　was　not　kidding；　Richard　knew。　He　would　kill　him　if　Jack　did　not　surrender　the　Talisman。　And　then　he　would　kill　the　old　black　man；　Speedy。
　　'Don't　do　it；'　he　managed　to　whisper。　'Stuff　him；　Jack。　Tell　him　to　screw　himself。'
　　Jack　almost　deranged　Richard　by　winking　at　him。
　　'Just　drop　the　Talisman；'　he　heard　his　father　say。
　　Richard　watched　in　horror　as　Jack　tilted　the　palms　of　his　hands　and　let　the　Talisman　tumble　out。
　　　
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　　'Jack；　no！'
　　Jack　didn't　look　around　at　Richard。　You　don't　own　a　thing　unless　you　can　give　it　up；　his　mind　hammered　at　him。　You　don't　own　a　thing　unless　you　can　give　it　up；　what　does　it　profit　a　man；　it　profits　him　nothing；　it　profits　him　zilch；　and　you　don't　learn　that　in　school；　you　learn　it　on　the　road；　you　learn　it　from　Ferd　Janklow；　and　Wolf；　and　Richard　going　head…first　into　the　rocks　like　a　Titan　II　that　didn't　fire　off　right。
　　You　learned　these　things；　or　you　died　somewhere　out　in　the　world　where　there　was　no　clear　light。
　　'No　more　killing；'　he　said　in　the　snow…filled　darkness　of　this　California　beach　afternoon。　He　should　have　felt　utterly　exhausted…it　had　been；　all　told；　a　four…day　run　of　horrors；　and　now；　at　the　end；　he　had　coughed　up　the　ball　like　a　freshman　quarterback　with　a　lot　to　learn。　Had　thrown　it　all　away。　Yet　it　was　the　sure　voice　of　Anders　he　heard；　Anders　who　had　knelt　before　Jack/Jason　with　his　kilt　spread　out　around　him　and　his　head　bowed：　Anders　saying　A'　wi'　be　well；　a'　wi'　be　well；　and　a'　manner　a'　things　wi'　be　well。
　　The　Talisman　glowed　on　the　beach；　snow　melting　down　one　sweetly　gravid　side　in　droplets；　and　in　each　droplet　was　a　rainbow；　and　in　that　moment　Jack　knew　the　staggering　cleanliness　of　giving　up　the　thing　which　was　required。
　　'No　more　slaughter。　Go　on　and　break　it　if　you　can；'　he　said。　'I'm　sorry　for　you。'
　　It　was　that　last　which　surely　destroyed　Morgan　Sloat。　If　he　had　retained　a　shred　of　rational　thought；　he　would　have　unearthed　a　stone　from　the　unearthly　snow　and　smashed　the　Talisman　。　。　。　as　it　could　have　been　smashed；　in　its　simple　unjacketed　vulnerability。
　　Instead；　he　turned　the　key　on　it。
　　As　he　did　so；　his　mind　was　filled　with　loving；　hateful　memories　of　Jerry　Bledsoe；　and　Jerry　Bledsoe's　wife。　Jerry　Bledsoe；　whom　he　had　killed；　and　Nita　Bledsoe；　who　should　have　been　Lily　Cavanaugh　。　。　。　Lily；　who　had　slapped　him　so　hard　his　nose　bled　the　one　time　when；　drunk；　he　had　tried　to　touch　her。
　　
　　Fire　sang　out…green…blue　fire　spanning　out　from　the　cheap…jack　barrel　of　the　tin　key。　It　arrowed　out　at　the　Talisman；　struck　it；　spread　over　it；　turning　it　into　a　burning　sun。　Every　color　was　there　for　a　moment　。　。　。　for　a　moment　every　world　was　there。　Then　it　was　gone。
　　The　Talisman　swallowed　the　fire　from　Morgan's　key。
　　Ate　it　whole。
　　Darkness　came　back。　Jack's　feet　slid　out　from　under　him　and　he　sat　down　with　a　thud　on　Speedy　Parker's　limply　splayed　calves。　Speedy　made　a　grunting　noise　and　twitched。
　　There　was　a　two…second　lag　when　everything　held　static　。　。　。　and　then　fire　suddenly　blew　back　out　of　the　Talisman　in　a　flood。　Jack's　eyes　opened　wide　in　spite　of　his　frantic；　tortured　thought
　　（it'll　blind　you！　Jack！　it'll）
　　and　the　altered　geography　of　Point　Venuti　was　lit　up　as　if　the　God　of　All　Universes　had　bent　forward　to　snap　a　picture。　Jack　saw　the　Agincourt；　slumped　and　half…destroyed；　he　saw　the　collapsed　Highlands　that　were　now　the　Lowlands；　he　saw　Richard　on　his　back；　he　saw　Speedy　lying　on　his　belly　with　his　face　turned　to　one　side。　Speedy　was　smiling。
　　Then　Morgan　Sloat　was　driven　backward　and　enveloped　in　a　field　of　fire　from　his　own　key…fire　that　had　been　absorbed　inside　the　Talisman　as　the　flashes　of　light　from　Sunlight　Gardener's　telescopic　sight　had　been　absorbed…and　which　was　returned　to　him　a　thousandfold。
　　A　hole　opened　between　the　worlds…a　hole　the　size　of　the　tunnel　leading　into　Oatley…and　Jack　saw　Sloat；　his　handsome　brown　suit　burning；　one　skeletal；　tallowy　hand　still　clutching　the　key；　driven　through　that　hole。　Sloat's　eyes　were　boiling　in　their　sockets；　but　they　were　wide　。　。　。　they　were　aware。
　　And　as　he　passed；　Jack　saw　him　change…saw　the　cloak　appear　like　the　wings　of　a　bat　that　has　swooped　through　the　flame　of　a　torch；　saw　his　burning　boots；　his　burning　hair。　Saw　the　key　bee　a　thing　like　a　miniature　lightning…rod。
　　Saw　。　。　。　daylight！
　　　
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　　It　came　back　in　a　flood。　Jack　rolled　away　from　it　on　the　snowy　beach；　dazzled。　In　his　ears…ears　deep　inside　his　head…he　heard　Morgan　Sloat's　dying　scream　as　he　was　driven　back　through　all　the　worlds　that　were；　into　oblivion。
　　'Jack？'　Richard　was　sitting　up　woozily；　holding　his　head。　'Jack；　what　happened？　I　think　I　fell　down　the　stadium　steps。'
　　Speedy　was　twitching　in　the　snow；　and　now　he　did　a　sort　of　girl's　pushup　and　looked　toward　Jack。　His　eyes　were　exhausted　。　。　。　but　his　face　was　clear　of　blemishes。
　　'Good　job；　Jack；'　he　said；　and　grinned。　'Good…'　He　fell　partway　forward　again；　panting。
　　Rainbow；　Jack　thought　woozily。　He　stood　up　and　then　fell　down　again。　Freezing　snow　coated　his　face　and　then　began　to　melt　like　tears。　He　pus