sk.thetalisman-第63节

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　　He　tipped　the　bottle　up；　and　the　awful　cold　taste　of　rotted　grapes　filled　his　mouth　for　the　last　time。　The　bottle　was　empty。　As　he　swallowed；　he　heard　it　shatter　as　one　of　Morgan's　bolts　of　lightning　struck　it。　But　the　sound　of　the　breaking　glass　was　faint　。　。　。　the　tingle　of　electricity　。　。　。　even　Morgan's　screams　of　rage。
　　He　felt　as　if　he　were　falling　over　backward　into　a　hole。　A　grave；　maybe。　Then　Wolf's　hand　squeezed　down　on　Jack's　so　hard　that　Jack　groaned。　That　feeling　of　vertigo；　of　having　done　a　plete　dipsy…doodle；　began　to　fade　。　。　。　and　then　the　sunlight　faded；　too；　and　became　the　sad　purplish　gray　of　an　October　twilight　in　the　heartland　of　America。　Cold　rain　struck　Jack　in　the　face；　and　he　was　faintly　aware　that　the　water　he　was　standing　in　seemed　much　colder　than　it　had　only　seconds　ago。　Somewhere　not　far　away　he　could　hear　the　familiar　snoring　drone　of　the　big　rigs　on　the　interstate　。　。　。　except　that　now　they　seemed　to　be　ing　from　directly　overhead。
　　Impossible；　he　thought；　but　was　it？　The　bounds　of　that　word　seemed　to　be　stretching　with　plastic　ease。　For　one　dizzy　moment　he　had　an　image　of　flying　Territories　trucks　driven　by　flying　Territories　men　with　big　canvas　wings　strapped　to　their　backs。
　　Back；　he　thought。　Back　again；　same　time；　same　turnpike。　He　sneezed。
　　Same　cold；　too。
　　But　two　things　were　not　the　same　now。
　　No　rest　area　here。　They　were　standing　thigh…deep　in　the　icy　water　of　a　stream　beneath　a　turnpike　overpass。
　　Wolf　was　with　him。　That　was　the　other　change。　
　　And　Wolf　was　screaming。
　　
　　　CHAPTER　18
　　　Wolf　Goes　to　the　Movies
　　　
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　　Overhead；　another　truck　pounded　across　the　overpass；　big　diesel　engine　bellowing。　The　overpass　shook。　Wolf　wailed　and　clutched　at　Jack；　almost　knocking　them　both　into　the　water。
　　'Quit　it！'　Jack　shouted。　'Let　go　of　me；　Wolf！　It's　just　a　truck！　Let　go！'　
　　He　slapped　at　Wolf；　not　wanting　to　do　it…Wolf's　terror　was　pathetic。　But；　pathetic　or　not；　Wolf　had　the　best　part　of　a　foot　and　maybe　a　hundred　and　fifty　pounds　on　Jack；　and　if　he　overbore　him；　they　would　both　go　into　this　freezing　water　and　it　would　be　pneumonia　for　sure。
　　'Wolf！　Don't　like　it！　Wolf！　Don't　like　it！　Wolf！　Wolf！'
　　But　his　hold　slackened。　A　moment　later　his　arms　dropped　to　his　sides。　When　another　truck　snored　by　overhead；　Wolf　cringed　but　managed　to　keep　from　grabbing　Jack　again。　But　he　looked　at　Jack　with　a　mute；　trembling　appeal　that　said　Get　me　out　of　this；　please　get　me　out　of　this；　I'd　rather　be　dead　than　in　this　world。
　　Nothing　I'd　like　better；　Wolf；　but　Morgan's　over　there。　Even　if　he　weren't；　I　don't　have　the　magic　juice　anymore。
　　He　looked　down　at　his　left　hand　and　saw　he　was　holding　the　jagged　neck　of　Speedy's　bottle；　like　a　man　getting　ready　to　do　some　serious　barroom　brawling。　Just　dumb　luck　Wolf　hadn't　gotten　a　bad　cut　when　he　grabbed　Jack　in　his　terror。
　　Jack　tossed　it　away。　Splash。
　　Two　trucks　this　time…the　noise　was　doubled。　Wolf　howled　in　terror　and　plastered　his　hands　over　his　ears。　Jack　could　see　that　most　of　the　hair　had　disappeared　from　Wolf's　hands　in　the　flip…most；　but　not　all。　And；　he　saw；　the　first　two　fingers　of　each　of　Wolf's　hands　were　exactly　the　same　length。
　　'e　on；　Wolf；'　Jack　said　when　the　racket　of　the　trucks　had　faded　a　little。　'Let's　get　out　of　here。　We　look　like　a　couple　of　guys　waiting　to　get　baptized　on　a　PTL　Club　special。'　
　　He　took　Wolf's　hand；　and　then　winced　at　the　panicky　way　Wolf's　grip　closed　down。　Wolf　saw　his　expression　and　loosened　up　。　。　。　a　little。
　　'Don't　leave　me；　Jack；'　Wolf　said。　'Please；　please　don't　leave　me。'
　　'No；　Wolf；　I　won't；'　Jack　said。　He　thought：　How　do　you　get　into　these　things；　you　asshole？　Here　you　are；　standing　under　a　turnpike　overpass　somewhere　in　Ohio　with　your　pet　werewolf。　How　do　you　do　it？　Do　you　practice？　And；　oh；　by　the　way；　what's　happening　with　the　moon；　Jack…O？　Do　you　remember？
　　He　didn't；　and　with　clouds　blanketing　the　sky　and　a　cold　rain　falling；　there　was　no　way　to　tell。
　　What　did　that　make　the　odds？　Thirty　to　one　in　his　favor？　Twenty…eight　to　two？
　　Whatever　the　odds　were；　they　weren't　good　enough。　Not　the　way　things　were　going。
　　'No；　I　won't　leave　you；'　he　repeated；　and　then　led　Wolf　toward　the　far　bank　of　the　stream。　In　the　shallows；　the　decayed　remains　of　some　child's　dolly　floated　belly…up；　her　glassy　blue　eyes　staring　into　the　growing　dark。　The　muscles　of　Jack's　arm　ached　from　the　strain　of　pulling　Wolf　through　into　this　world；　and　the　joint　in　his　shoulder　throbbed　like　a　rotted　tooth。
　　As　they　came　out　of　the　water　onto　the　weedy；　trashy　bank；　Jack　began　to　sneeze　again。
　　　
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　　This　time；　Jack's　total　progress　in　the　Territories　had　been　half　a　mile　west…the　distance　Wolf　had　moved　his　herd　so　they　could　drink　in　the　stream　where　Wolf　himself　had　later　almost　been　drowned。　Over　here；　he　found　himself　ten　miles　farther　west；　as　best　he　could　figure。　They　struggled　up　the　bank…Wolf　actually　ended　up　pulling　Jack　most　of　the　way…and　in　the　last　of　the　daylight　Jack　could　see　an　exit…ramp　splitting　off　to　the　right　some　fifty　yards　up　the　road。　A　reflectorized　sign　read：　ARCANUM　LAST　EXIT　IN　OHIO　　　　　　　STATE　LINE　15　MILES。
　　'We've　got　to　hitch；'　Jack　said。
　　'Hitch？'　Wolf　said　doubtfully。
　　'Let's　have　a　look　at　you。'
　　He　thought　Wolf　would　do；　at　least　in　the　dark。　He　was　still　wearing　the　bib　overalls；　which　now　had　an　actual　OSHKOSH　label　on　them。　His　homespun　shirt　had　bee　a　machine…produced　blue　chambray　that　looked　like　an　Army…Navy　Surplus　special。　His　formerly　bare　feet　were　clad　in　a　huge　pair　of　dripping　penny　loafers　and　white　socks。
　　Oddest　of　all；　a　pair　of　round　steel…rimmed　spectacles　of　the　sort　John　Lennon　used　to　wear　sat　in　the　middle　of　Wolf's　big　face。
　　'Wolf；　did　you　have　trouble　seeing？　Over　in　the　Territories？'
　　'I　didn't　know　I　did；'　Wolf　said。　'I　guess　so。　Wolf！　I　sure　see　better　over　here；　with　these　glass　eyes。　Wolf；　right　here　and　now！'　He　looked　out　at　the　roaring　turnpike　traffic；　and　for　just　a　moment　Jack　saw　what　he　must　be　seeing：　great　steel　beasts　with　huge　yellow…white　eyes；　snarling　through　the　night　at　unimaginable　speeds；　rubber　wheels　blistering　the　road。　'I　see　better　than　I　want　to；'　Wolf　finished　forlornly。
　　　
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　　Two　days　later　a　pair　of　tired；　footsore　boys　limped　past　the　MUNICIPAL　TOWN　LIMITS　sign　on　one　side　of　Highway　32　and　the　10…4　Diner　on　the　other　side；　and　thus　into　the　city　of　Muncie；　Indiana。　Jack　was　running　a　fever　of　a　hundred　and　two　degrees　and　coughing　pretty　steadily。　Wolf's　face　was　swollen　and　discolored。　He　looked　like　a　pug　that　has　e　out　on　the　short　end　in　a　grudge　match。　The　day　before；　he　had　tried　to　get　them　some　late　apples　from　a　tree　growing　in　the　shade　of　an　abandoned　barn　beside　the　road。　He　had　actually　been　in　the　tree　and　dropping　shrivelled　autumn　apples　into　the　front　of　his　overalls　when　the　wall…wasps；　which　had　built　their　nest　somewhere　in　the　eaves　of　the　old　barn；　had　found　him。　Wolf　had　e　back　down　the　tree　as　fast　as　he　could；　with　a　brown　cloud　around　his　head。　He　was　howling。　And　still；　with　one　eye　pletely　closed　and　his　nose　beginning　to　resemble　a　large　purple　turnip；　he　had　insisted　that　Jack　have　the　best　of　the　apples。　None　of　them　was　very　good…small　and　sour　and　wormy…and　Jack　didn't　feel　much　like　eating　anyway；　but　after　what　Wolf　had　gone　through　to　get　them；　he　hadn't　had　the　heart　to　refuse。
　　A　big　old　Camaro；　jacked　in　the　back　so　that　the　nose　pointed　at　the　road；　blasted　by　them。　'Heyyyyy；　assholes！'　someone　yelled；　and　there　was　a　burst　of　loud；　beer…fueled　laughter。　Wolf　howled　and　clutched　at　Jack。　Jack　had　thought　that　Wolf　would　eventually　get　over　his　terror　of　cars；　but　now　he　was　really　beginning　to　wonder。
　　'It's　all　right；　Wolf；'　he　said　wearily；　peeling　Wolf's　arms　off　for　the　twentieth　or　thirtieth　time　that　day。　'They're　gone。'
　　'So　loud！'　Wolf　moaned。　'Wolf！　Wolf！　Wolf！　So　loud；　Jack；　my　ears；　my　ears！'
　　'Glasspack　muffler；'　Jack　said；　thinking　wearily：　You'd　love　the　California　freeways；　Wolf。　We'll　check　those　out　if　we're　still　travelling　together；　okay？　Then　we'll　try　a　few　stock…car　races　and　motorcycle　scrambles。　You'll　be　nuts　about　them。　'Some　guys　like　the　sound；　you　know。　They…'　But　he　went　into　another　coughing　fit　that　doubled　him　over。　For　a　moment　the　world　swam　away　in　gray　shades。　It　came　back　very；　very　slowly。
　　'Like　it；'　Wolf　muttered。　'Jason！　How　could　anyone　like　it；　Jack？　And　the　smells　。　。　。　'　
　　Jack　knew　that；　for　Wolf；　the　smells　were　the　worst。　They　hadn't　been　over　here　four　hours　before　Wolf　began　to　call　it　the　Country　of　Bad　Smells。　That　first　night　Wolf　had　retched　half　a　dozen　times；　at　first　throwing　up　muddy　water　from　a　stream　which　existed　in　another　universe　onto　the　Ohio　ground；　then　simply　dry…heaving。　It　was　the　smells；　he　explained　miserably。　He　didn't　know　how　Jack　could　stand　them；　how　anyone　could　stand　them。
　　Jack　knew…ing　back　from　the　Territories；　you　were　bowled　over　by　odors　you　barely　noticed　when　you　were　living　with　them。　Diesel　fuel；　car　exhausts；　industrial　wastes；　garbage；　bad　water；　ripe　chemicals。　Then　you　got　used　to　them　again。　Got　used　to　them　or　ju