sk.thetalisman-第56节

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　　'I　killed　em；'　Jack　whispered。　'Thielke；　Wild；　Hagen；　Davey　。　。　。　'
　　'Well；　if　yo　friend　Speedy　was　here；'　the　black　man　said；　'whoever　he　might　be；　or　wherever　he　might　be　in　this　wide　old　world；　he　might　tell　you　that　you　cain't　carry　the　world　on　yo　shoulders；　son。　You　cain't　do　that。　No　one　can。　Try　to　carry　the　world　on　yo　shoulders；　why；　first　it's　gonna　break　yo　back；　and　then　it's　gonna　break　you　sperrit。'
　　'I　killed…'
　　'Put　a　gun　to　their　heads　and　shot　somebodies；　didya？'
　　'No　。　。　。　the　earthquake　。　。　。　I　flipped　。　。　。　'
　　'Don't　know　nothin　bout　dat；'　the　black　man　said。　Jack　had　pulled　away　from　him　a　bit　and　was　staring　up　into　the　black　man's　seamed　face　with　wondering　curiosity；　but　the　black　man　had　turned　his　head　toward　the　parking　lot。　If　he　was　blind；　then　he　had　picked　out　the　smoother；　slightly　more　powerful　beat　of　the　police　car's　engine　from　the　others　as　it　approached；　because　he　was　looking　right　at　it。　'All　I　know　is　you　seem　to　have　this　idear　of　'moider'　a　little　broad。　Prolly　if　some　fella　dropped　dead　of　a　heart…attack　goin　around　us　as　we　sit　here；　you'd　think　you　killed　him。　'Oh　look；　I　done　moidered　that　fella　on　account　of　where　I　was　sit…tin；　oh　woe；　oh　dooom；　oh　gloooooom；　oh　this　。　。　。　oh　that！'　'　As　he　spoke　this　and　that；　the　blind　man　punctuated　it　with　a　quick　change　from　G　to　C　and　back　to　G　again。　He　laughed；　pleased　with　himself。
　　'Speedy…'
　　'Nothin　speedy　round　here；'　the　black　man　reiterated；　and　then　showed　yellow　teeth　in　a　crooked　grin。　'Cept　maybe　how　speedy　some　folks　are　to　put　the　blame　on　themselves　for　things　others　might　have　got　started。　Maybe　you　runnin；　boy；　and　maybe　you　bein　chased。'　G…chord。
　　'Maybe　you　be　just　a　little　off…base。'
　　C…chord；　with　a　nifty　little　run　in　the　middle　that　made　Jack　grin　in　spite　of　himself。
　　'Might　be　somebody　else　gettin　on　yo　case。'
　　Back　down　to　G　again；　and　the　blind　man　laid　his　guitar　aside　（while；　in　the　police　car；　the　two　cops　were　flipping　to　see　which　of　them　would　actually　have　to　touch　Old　Snowball　if　he　wouldn't　get　into　the　back　of　the　cruiser　peaceably）。
　　'Maybe　dooom　and　maybe　gloooooom　and　maybe　this　and　maybe　that　。　。　。　'　He　laughed　again；　as　if　Jack's　fears　were　the　funniest　thing　he'd　ever　heard。
　　'But　I　don't　know　what　could　happen　if　I…'
　　'No　one　ever　knows　what　could　happen　if　they　do　anything；　do　dey？'　the　black　man　who　might　or　might　not　be　Speedy　Parker　broke　in。　'No。　Dey　do　not。　If　you　thought　about　it；　you'd　stay　in　yo　house　all　day；　ascairt　to　e　out！　I　don't　know　yo　problems；　boy。　Don't　want　to　know　em。　Could　be　crazy；　talkin　bout　earthquakes　and　all。　But　bein　as　how　you　helped　me　pick　up　my　money　and　didn't　steal　none…I　counted　every　plinkety…plink；　so　I　know…I'll　give　you　some　advice。　Some　things　you　cain't　help。　Sometimes　people　get　killed　because　somebody　does　somethin　。　。　。　but　if　somebody　didn't　do　that　somethin；　a　whole　lot　of　more　people　would　have　got　killed。　Do　you　see　where　I'm　pushin；　son？'　
　　The　dirty　sunglasses　inclined　down　toward　him。
　　Jack　felt　a　deep；　shuddery　relief。　He　saw；　all　right。　The　blind　man　was　talking　about　hard　choices。　He　was　suggesting　that　maybe　there　was　a　difference　between　hard　choices　and　criminal　behavior。　And　that　maybe　the　criminal　wasn't　here。
　　The　criminal　might　have　been　the　guy　who　had　told　him　five　minutes　ago　to　get　his　ass　home。
　　'Could　even　be；'　the　blind　man　remarked；　hitting　a　dark　D…minor　chord　on　his　box；　'that　all　things　soive　the　Lord；　just　like　my　momma　tole　me　and　your　momma　might　have　tole　you；　if　she　was　a　Christian　lady。　Could　be　we　think　we　doin　one　thing　but　are　really　doin　another。　Good　Book　says　all　things；　even　those　that　seem　evil；　soive　the　Lord。　What　you　think；　boy？'
　　'I　don't　know；'　Jack　said　honestly。　He　was　all　mixed　up。　He　only　had　to　close　his　eyes　and　he　could　see　the　telephone　tearing　off　the　wall；　hanging　from　its　wires　like　a　weird　puppet。
　　'Well；　it　smells　like　you　lettin　it　drive　you　to　drink。'
　　'What？'　Jack　asked；　astonished。　Then　he　thought；　I　thought　that　Speedy　looked　like　Mississippi　John　Hurt；　and　this　guy　started　playing　a　John　Hurt　blues　。　。　。　and　now　he's　talking　about　the　magic　juice。　He's　being　careful；　but　I　swear　that's　what　he's　talking　about…it's　got　to　be！
　　'You're　a　mind…reader；'　Jack　said　in　a　low　voice。　'Aren't　you？　Did　you　learn　it　in　the　Territories；　Speedy？'
　　'Don't　know　nothin　bout　readin　minds；'　the　blind　man　said；　'but　my　lamps　have　been　out　forty…two　year　e　November；　and　in　forty…two　year　your　nose　and　ears　take　up　some　of　the　slack。　I　can　smell　cheap　wine　on　you；　son。　Smell　it　all　over　you。　It's　almost　like　you　washed　yo　hair　widdit！'　
　　Jack　felt　an　odd；　dreamy　guilt…it　was　the　way　he　always　felt　when　accused　of　doing　something　wrong　when　he　was　in　fact　innocent…mostly　innocent；　anyway。　He　had　done　no　more　than　touch　the　almost…empty　bottle　since　flipping　back　into　this　world。　Just　touching　it　filled　him　with　dread…he　had　e　to　feel　about　it　the　way　a　fourteenth…century　European　peasant　might　have　felt　about　a　splinter　of　the　One　True　Cross　or　the　fingerbone　of　a　saint。　It　was　magic；　all　right。　Powerful　magic。　And　sometimes　it　got　people　killed。
　　'I　haven't　been　drinking　it；　honest；'　he　finally　managed。　'What　I　started　with　is　almost　gone。　It　。　。　。　I　。　。　。　man；　I　don't　even　like　it！'　His　stomach　had　begun　to　clench　nervously；　just　thinking　about　the　magic　juice　was　making　him　feel　nauseated。　'But　I　need　to　get　some　more。　Just　in　case。'
　　'More　Poiple　Jesus？　Boy　your　age？'　The　blind　man　laughed　and　made　a　shooing　gesture　with　one　hand。　'Hell；　you　don't　need　dat。　No　boy　needs　dat　poison　to　travel　with。'
　　'But…'
　　'Here。　I'll　sing　you　a　song　to　cheer　you　up。　Sounds　like　you　could　use　it。'　
　　He　began　to　sing；　and　his　singing　voice　was　nothing　at　all　like　his　speaking　voice。　It　was　deep　and　powerful　and　thrilling；　without　the　Nigger　Jim　'My…Huck…dat…sure…is…gay！'　cadences　of　his　talk。　It　was；　Jack　thought；　awed；　almost　the　trained；　cultured　voice　of　an　opera　singer；　now　amusing　itself　with　a　little　piece　of　popular　fluff。　Jack　felt　goosebumps　rise　on　his　arms　and　back　at　that　rich；　full　voice。　Along　the　sidewalk　which　ran　along　the　dull；　ochre　flank　of　the　mall；　heads　turned。
　　'When　the　red；　red　robin　goes　bob…bob…bobbin　along；　ALONG；　there'll　be　no　more　sobbin　when　he　starts　throbbin　his　old　。　。　。　sweet　SONG…'
　　Jack　was　struck　by　a　sweet　and　terrible　familiarity；　a　sense　that　he　had　heard　this　before；　or　something　very　like　it；　and　as　the　blind　man　bridged；　grinning　his　crooked；　yellowing　smile；　Jack　realized　where　the　feeling　was　ing　from。　He　knew　what　had　made　all　those　heads　turn；　as　they　would　have　turned　if　a　unicorn　had　gone　galloping　across　the　mall's　parking　lot。　There　was　a　beautiful；　alien　clarity　in　the　man's　voice。　It　was　the　clarity　of；　say；　air　so　pure　that　you　could　smell　a　radish　when　a　man　pulled　one　out　of　the　ground　half　a　mile　away。　It　was　a　good　old　Tin　Pan　Alley　song　。　。　。　but　the　voice　was　pure　Territories。
　　'Get　up　。　。　。　get　up；　you　sleepyhead　。　。　。　get　out　。　。　。　get　out；　get　outta　bed　。　。　。　live；　love；　laugh　and　be　ha…'
　　Both　guitar　and　voice　came　to　a　sudden　halt。　Jack；　who　had　been　concentrating　fiercely　on　the　blind　man's　face　（trying　subconsciously　to　peer　right　through　those　dark　glasses；　perhaps；　and　see　if　Speedy　Parker's　eyes　were　behind　them）；　now　widened　his　focus　and　saw　two　cops　standing　beside　the　blind　man。
　　'You　know；　I　don't　hear　nothin；'　the　blind　guitarist　said；　almost　coyly；　'but　I　b'lieve　I　smell　somethin　blue。'
　　'Goddammit；　Snowball；　you　know　you're　not　supposed　to　work　the　mall！'　one　of　the　cops　cried。　'What　did　Judge　Hal…las　tell　you　the　last　time　he　had　you　in　chambers？　Downtown　between　Center　Street　and　Mural　Street。　No　place　else。　Damn；　boy；　how　senile　have　you　got？　Your　pecker　rotted　off　yet　from　that　whatall　your　woman　gave　you　before　she　took　off　？　Christ；　I　just　don't…'　His　partner　put　a　hand　on　his　arm　and　nodded　toward　Jack　in　a　little…pitchers…have…big…ears　gesture。
　　'Go　tell　your　mother　she　wants　you；　kid；'　the　first　cop　said　curtly。
　　Jack　started　walking　down　the　sidewalk。　He　couldn't　stay。　Even　if　there　was　something　he　could　do；　he　couldn't　stay。　He　was　lucky　the　cops'　attention　had　been　taken　up　by　the　man　they　called　Snowball。　If　they　had　given　him　a　second　glance；　Jack　had　no　doubt　he　would　have　been　asked　to　produce　his　bona　fides。　New　sneakers　or　not；　the　rest　of　him　looked　used　and　battered。　It　doesn't　take　cops　long　to　get　good　at　spotting　road…kids；　and　Jack　was　a　boy　on　the　road　if　there　ever　had　been　one。
　　He　imagined　being　tossed　into　the　Zanesville　pokey　while　the　Zanesville　cops；　fine　upstanding　boys　in　blue　who　listened　to　Paul　Harvey　every　day　and　supported　President　Reagan；　tried　to　find　out　whose　little　boy　he　was。
　　No；　he　didn't　want　the　Zanesville　cops　giving　him　more　than　the　one　passing　glance。
　　A　motor；　throbbing　smoothly；　ing　up　behind　him。　
　　Jack　hunched　his　pack　a　little　higher　on　his　back　and　looked　down　at　his　new　sneakers　as　if　they　interested　him　tremendously。　From　the　corners　of　his　eyes　he　saw　the　police　cruiser　slide　slowly　by。
　　The　blind　man　was　in　the　back　seat