sk.thetalisman-第160节

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　　Richard　now　arrived；　staring　at　both　of　them　with　wonder　and　caution。
　　'There　are　good　Wolfs　as　well　as　bad　in　the　Territories…'　Jack　began。
　　'Lots　of　good　Wolfs；'　Wolf　interjected。
　　He　stuck　out　his　hand　to　Richard。　Richard　pulled　back　for　a　second　and　then　shook　it。　The　set　of　his　mouth　as　his　hand　was　swallowed　made　Jack　believe　Richard　expected　the　sort　of　treatment　Wolf　had　accorded　Heck　Bast　a　long　time　ago。
　　'This　is　my　Wolf's　litter…brother；'　Jack　said　proudly。　He　cleared　his　throat；　not　knowing　exactly　how　to　express　his　feelings　for　this　being's　brother。　Did　Wolfs　understand　condolence？　Was　it　part　of　their　ritual？
　　'I　loved　your　brother；'　he　said。　'He　saved　my　life。　Except　for　Richard　here；　he　was　just　about　the　best　friend　I　ever　had；　I　guess。　I'm　sorry　he　died。'
　　'He's　in　the　moon　now；'　Wolf's　brother　said。　'He'll　be　back。　Everything　goes　away；　Jack　Sawyer；　like　the　moon。　Everything　es　back；　like　the　moon。　e　on。　Want　to　get　away　from　this　stinking　place。'
　　Richard　looked　puzzled；　but　Jack　understood　and　more　than　sympathized…the　Mobil　station　seemed　surrounded　with　a　hot；　oily　aroma　of　fried　hydrocarbons。　It　was　like　a　brown　shroud　you　could　see　through。
　　The　Wolf　went　to　the　Cadillac　and　opened　the　rear　door　like　a　chauffeur…which　was；　Jack　supposed；　exactly　what　he　was。
　　'Jack？'　Richard　looked　frightened。
　　'It's　okay；'　Jack　said。
　　'But　where…'
　　'To　my　mother；　I　think；'　Jack　said。　'All　the　way　across　the　country　to　Arcadia　Beach；　New　Hampshire。　Going　first　class。　e　on；　Richie。'
　　They　walked　to　the　car。　Shoved　over　to　one　side　of　the　wide　back　seat　was　a　scruffy　old　guitar　case。　Jack　felt　his　heart　leap　up　again。
　　'Speedy！'　He　turned　to　Wolf's　litter…brother。　'Is　Speedy　ing　with　us？'
　　'Don't　know　anyone　speedy；'　the　Wolf　said。　'Had　an　uncle　who　was　sort　of　speedy；　then　he　pulled　up　lame…Wolf！…and　couldn't　even　keep　up　with　the　herd　anymore。'
　　Jack　pointed　at　the　guitar　case。
　　'Where　did　that　e　from？'
　　Wolf　grinned；　showing　many　big　teeth。　'Parkus；'　he　said。　'Left　this　for　you；　too。　Almost　forgot。'　
　　From　his　back　pocket　he　took　a　very　old　postcard。　On　the　front　was　a　carousel　filled　with　a　great　many　familiar　horses…Ella　Speed　and　Silver　Lady　among　them…but　the　ladies　in　the　foreground　were　wearing　bustles；　the　boys　knickers；　many　of　the　men　derby　hats　and　Rollie　Fingers　moustaches。　The　card　felt　silky　with　age。
　　He　turned　it　over；　first　reading　the　print　up　the　middle：　ARCADIA　BEACH　CAROUSEL；　JULY　4TH；　1894。
　　It　was　Speedy…not　Parkus…who　had　scratched　two　sentences　in　the　message　space。　His　hand　was　sprawling；　not　very　literate；　he　had　written　with　a　soft；　blunt　pencil。
　　You　done　great　wonders；　Jack。　Use　what　you　need　of　what's　in　the　case…keep　the　rest　or　throw　it　away。
　　Jack　put　the　postcard　in　his　hip　pocket　and　got　into　the　back　of　the　Cadillac；　sliding　across　the　plush　seat。　One　of　the　catches　on　the　old　guitar　case　was　broken。　He　unsnapped　the　other　three。
　　Richard　had　gotten　in　after　Jack。　'Holy　crow！'　he　whispered。
　　The　guitar　case　was　stuffed　with　twenty…dollar　bills。
　　　
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　　Wolf　took　them　home；　and　although　Jack　grew　hazy　about　many　of　that　autumn's　events　in　a　very　short　time；　each　moment　of　that　trip　was　emblazoned　on　his　mind　for　the　rest　of　his　life。　He　and　Richard　sat　in　the　back　of　the　El　Dorado　and　Wolf　drove　them　east　and　east　and　east。　Wolf　knew　the　roads　and　Wolf　drove　them。　He　sometimes　played　Creedence　Clear…water　Revival　tapes…'Run　Through　the　Jungle'　seemed　to　be　his　favorite…at　a　volume　just　short　of　ear…shattering。　Then　he　would　spend　long　periods　of　time　listening　to　the　tonal　variations　in　the　wind　as　he　worked　the　button　that　controlled　his　wing　window。　This　seemed　to　fascinate　him　pletely。
　　East；　east；　east…into　the　sunrise　each　morning；　into　the　mysterious　deepening　blue　dusk　of　each　ing　night；　listening　first　to　John　Fogerty　and　then　to　the　wind；　John　Fogerty　again　and　then　the　wind　again。
　　They　ate　at　Stuckeys'。　They　ate　at　Burger　Kings。　They　stopped　at　Kentucky　Fried　Chicken。　At　the　latter；　Jack　and　Richard　got　dinners；　Wolf　got　a　Family…Style　Bucket　and　ate　all　twenty…one　pieces。　From　the　sounds；　he　ate　most　of　the　bones　as　well。　This　made　Jack　think　of　Wolf　and　the　popcorn。　Where　had　that　been？　Muncie。　The　outskirts　of　Muncie…the　Town　Line　Sixplex。　Just　before　they　had　gotten　their　asses　slammed　into　the　Sunlight　Home。　He　grinned　。　。　。　and　then　felt　something　like　an　arrow　slip　into　his　heart。　He　looked　out　the　window　so　Richard　wouldn't　see　the　gleam　of　his　tears。
　　They　stopped　on　the　second　night　in　Julesburg；　Colorado；　and　Wolf　cooked　them　a　huge　picnic　supper　on　a　portable　barbecue　he　produced　from　the　trunk。　They　ate　in　a　snowy　field　by　starlight；　bundled　up　in　heavy　parkas　bought　out　of　the　guitar…case　stash。　A　meteor…shower　flashed　overhead；　and　Wolf　danced　in　the　snow　like　a　child。
　　'I　love　that　guy；'　Richard　said　thoughtfully。
　　'Yeah；　me　too。　You　should　have　met　his　brother。'
　　'I　wish　I　had。'　Richard　began　to　gather　up　the　trash。　What　he　said　next　flummoxed　Jack　almost　pletely。　'I'm　forgetting　a　lot　of　stuff；　Jack。'
　　'What　do　you　mean？'
　　'Just　that。　Every　mile　I　remember　a　little　less　about　what　happened。　It's　all　getting　misty。　And　I　think　。　。　。　I　think　that's　the　way　I　want　it。　Look；　are　you　really　sure　your　mother's　okay？'
　　Three　times　Jack　had　tried　to　call　his　mother。　There　was　no　answer。　He　was　not　too　worried　about　this。　Things　were　okay。　He　hoped。　When　he　got　there；　she　would　be　there。　Sick　。　。　。　but　still　alive。　He　hoped。
　　'Yes。'
　　'Then　how　e　she　doesn't　answer　the　phone？'
　　'Sloat　played　some　tricks　with　the　phones；'　Jack　said。　'He　played　some　tricks　with　the　help　at　the　Alhambra；　too；　I　bet。　She's　still　okay。　Sick　。　。　。　but　okay。　Still　there。　I　can　feel　her。'
　　'And　if　this　healing　thing　works…'　Richard　grimaced　a　little；　then　plunged。　'You　still　。　。　。　I　mean；　you　still　think　she'd　let　me　。　。　。　you　know；　stay　with　you　guys？'
　　'No；'　Jack　said；　helping　Richard　pick　up　the　remains　of　supper。　'She'll　want　to　see　you　in　an　orphanage；　probably。　Or　maybe　in　jail。　Don't　be　a　dork；　Richard；　of　course　you　can　stay　with　us。'
　　'Well　。　。　。　after　all　my　father　did　。　。　。'
　　'That　was　your　dad；　Richie；'　Jack　said　simply。　'Not　you。'
　　'And　you　won't　always　be　reminding　me？　You　know　。　。　。　jogging　my　memory？'
　　'Not　if　you　want　to　forget。'
　　'I　do；　Jack。　I　really　do。'
　　Wolf　was　ing　back。
　　'You　guys　ready？　Wolf！'
　　'All　ready；'　Jack　said。　'Listen；　Wolf；　how　about　that　Scott　Hamilton　tape　I　got　in　Cheyenne？'
　　'Sure；　Jack。　Then　how　about　some　Creedence？'
　　'　'Run　Through　the　Jungle；'　right？'
　　'Good　tune；　Jack！　Heavy！　Wolf！　God…pounding　heavy　tune！'
　　'You　bet；　Wolf。'　He　rolled　his　eyes　at　Richard。　Richard　rolled　his　back；　and　grinned。
　　The　next　day　they　rolled　across　Nebraska　and　Iowa；　a　day　later　they　tooled　past　the　gutted　ruin　of　the　Sunlight　Home。　Jack　thought　Wolf　had　taken　them　past　it　on　purpose；　that　he　perhaps　wanted　to　see　the　place　where　his　brother　had　died。　He　turned　up　the　Creedence　tape　in　the　cassette　player　as　loud　as　it　would　go；　but　Jack　still　thought　he　heard　the　sound　of　Wolf　sobbing。
　　Time…suspended　swatches　of　time。　Jack　seemed　almost　to　be　floating；　and　there　was　a　feeling　of　suspension；　triumph；　valediction。　Work　honorably　discharged。
　　Around　sunset　of　the　fifth　day；　they　crossed　into　New　England。
　　
　　　CHAPTER　47
　　　Journey's　End
　　　
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　　The　whole　long　drive　from　California　to　New　England　seemed；　once　they　had　got　so　far；　to　have　taken　place　in　a　single　long　afternoon　and　evening。　An　afternoon　that　lasted　days；　an　evening　perhaps　life…long；　bulging　with　sunsets　and　music　and　emotions。　Great　humping　balls　of　fire；　Jack　thought；　I'm　really　out　of　it；　when　he　happened　for　the　second　time　in　what　he　assumed　to　be　about　an　hour　to　look　at　the　discreet　little　clock　set　in　the　dashboard…and　discovered　that　three　hours　had　winked　past　him。　Was　it　even　the　same　day？　'Run　Through　the　Jungle'　pumped　through　the　air；　Wolf　bobbed　his　head　in　time；　grinning　unstoppably；　infallibly　finding　the　best　roads；　the　rear　window　showing　the　whole　sky　opening　in　great　bands　of　twilight　color；　purple　and　blue　and　that　particular　deep　plangent　red　of　the　down…going　sun。　Jack　could　remember　every　detail　of　this　long　long　journey；　every　word；　every　meal；　every　nuance　of　the　music；　Zoot　Sims　or　John　Fogerty　or　simply　Wolf　delighting　himself　with　the　noises　of　the　air；　but　the　true　span　of　time　had　warped　itself　in　his　mind　to　a　concentration　like　a　diamond's。　He　slept　in　the　cushiony　backseat　and　opened　his　eyes　on　light　or　darkness；　on　sunlight　or　stars。　Among　the　things　he　remembered　with　particular　sharpness；　once　they　had　crossed　into　New　England　and　the　Talisman　began　to　glow　again；　signalling　the　return　of　normal　time…or　perhaps　the　return　of　time　itself　to　Jack　Sawyer…were　the　faces　of　people　peering　into　the　back　seat　of　the　El　Dorado　（people　in　parking　lots；　a　sailor　and　an　ox…faced　girl　in　a　convertible　at　a　stoplight　in　a　sunny　little　town　in　Iowa；　a　skinny　Ohio　kid　wearing　Breaking　Away…style　bicycle　gear）　in　order　to　see　if　maybe　Mick　Jagger