sk.thetalisman-第64节

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hem　or　just　went　numb。　Only　that　wasn't　happening　to　Wolf。　He　hated　the　cars；　he　hated　the　smells；　he　hated　this　world。　Jack　didn't　think　he　was　ever　going　to　get　used　to　it。　If　he　didn't　get　Wolf　back　into　the　Territories　fairly　soon；　Jack　thought　he　might　go　crazy。　He'll　probably　drive　me　crazy　while　he's　at　it；　Jack　thought。　Not　that　I've　got　far　to　go　anymore。
　　A　clattering　farm…truck　loaded　with　chickens　ground　by　them；　followed　by　an　impatient　line　of　cars；　some　of　them　honking。　Wolf　almost　jumped　into　Jack's　arms。　Weakened　by　the　fever；　Jack　reeled　into　the　brushy；　trash…littered　ditch　and　sat　down　so　hard　his　teeth　clicked　together。
　　'I'm　sorry；　Jack；'　Wolf　said　miserably。　'God　pound　me！'
　　'Not　your　fault；'　Jack　said。　'Fall　out。　Time　to　take　five。'　
　　Wolf　sat　down　beside　Jack；　remaining　silent；　looking　at　Jack　anxiously。　He　knew　how　hard　he　was　making　it　for　Jack；　he　knew　that　Jack　was　in　a　fever　to　move　faster；　partly　to　outdistance　Morgan；　but　mostly　for　some　other　reason。　He　knew　that　Jack　moaned　about　his　mother　in　his　sleep；　and　sometimes　cried。　But　the　only　time　he　had　cried　when　awake　was　after　Wolf　went　a　little　crazy　on　the　Arcanum　turnpike　ramp。　That　was　when　he　realized　what　Jack　meant　by　'hitching。'　When　Wolf　told　Jack　he　didn't　think　he　could　hitch　rides…at　least　not　for　a　while　and　maybe　not　ever…Jack　had　sat　down　on　the　top　strand　of　guardrail　cable　and　had　wept　into　his　hands。　And　then　he　had　stopped；　which　was　good　。　。　。　but　when　he　took　his　face　out　of　his　hands；　he　had　looked　at　Wolf　in　a　way　that　made　Wolf　feel　sure　that　Jack　would　leave　him　in　this　horrible　Country　of　Bad　Smells　。　。　。　and　without　Jack；　Wolf　would　soon　go　quite　mad。
　　　
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　　They　had　walked　up　to　the　Arcanum　exit　in　the　breakdown　lane；　Wolf　cringing　and　pawing　at　Jack　each　time　a　car　or　truck　passed　in　the　deepening　dusk。　Jack　had　heard　a　mocking　voice　drift　back　on　the　slipstream：　'Where's　your　car；　faggots？'　He　shook　it　off　like　a　dog　shaking　water　out　of　his　eyes；　and　had　simply　kept　going；　taking　Wolf's　hand　and　pulling　him　after　when　Wolf　showed　signs　of　lagging　or　drifting　toward　the　woods。　The　important　thing　was　to　get　off　the　turnpike　proper；　where　hitchhiking　was　forbidden；　and　onto　the　westbound　Arcanum　entrance　ramp。　Some　states　had　legalized　hitching　from　the　ramps　（or　so　a　road…bum　with　whom　Jack　had　shared　a　barn　one　night　had　told　him）；　and　even　in　states　where　thumbing　was　technically　a　crime；　the　cops　would　usually　wink　if　you　were　on　a　ramp。
　　So　first；　get　to　the　ramp。　Hope　no　state　patrol　happened　along　while　you　were　getting　there。　What　a　state　trooper　might　make　of　Wolf　Jack　didn't　want　to　think　about。　He　would　probably　think　he　had　caught　an　eighties　incarnation　of　Charles　Manson　in　Lennon　glasses。
　　They　made　the　ramp　and　crossed　over　to　the　westbound　lane。　Ten　minutes　later　a　battered　old　Chrysler　had　pulled　up。　The　driver；　a　burly　man　with　a　bull　neck　and　a　cap　which　read　CASE　FARM　EQUIPMENT　tipped　back　on　his　head；　leaned　over　and　opened　the　door。
　　'Hop　in；　boys！　Dirty　night；　ain't　it？'
　　'Thanks；　mister；　it　sure　is；'　Jack　said　cheerfully。　His　mind　was　in　overdrive；　trying　to　figure　out　how　he　could　work　Wolf　into　the　Story；　and　he　barely　noticed　Wolf's　expression。
　　The　man　noticed　it；　however。　
　　His　face　hardened。
　　'You　smell　anything　bad；　son？'
　　Jack　was　snapped　back　to　reality　by　the　man's　tone；　which　was　as　hard　as　his　face。　All　cordiality　had　departed　it；　and　he　looked　as　if　he　might　have　just　wandered　into　the　Oatley　Tap　to　eat　a　few　beers　and　drink　a　few　glasses。
　　Jack　whipped　around　and　looked　at　Wolf。
　　Wolf's　nostrils　were　flaring　like　the　nostrils　of　a　bear　which　smells　a　blown　skunk。　His　lips　were　not　just　pulled　back　from　his　teeth；　they　were　wrinkled　back　from　them；　the　flesh　below　his　nose　stacked　in　little　ridges。
　　'What　is　he；　retarded？'　the　man　in　the　CASE　FARM　EQUIPMENT　hat　asked　Jack　in　a　low　voice。
　　'No；　ah；　he　just…'　
　　Wolf　began　to　growl。　
　　That　was　it。
　　'Oh；　Christ；'　the　man　said　in　the　tones　of　one　who　simply　cannot　believe　this　is　happening。　He　stepped　on　the　gas　and　roared　down　the　exit　ramp；　the　passenger　door　flopping　shut。　His　taillights　dot…dashed　briefly　in　the　rainy　dark　at　the　foot　of　the　ramp；　sending　reflections　in　smeary　red　arrows　up　the　pavement　toward　where　they　stood。
　　'Boy；　that's　great；'　Jack　said；　and　turned　to　Wolf；　who　shrank　back　from　his　anger。　'That's　just　great！　If　he'd　had　a　CB　radio；　he'd　be　on　Channel　Nineteen　right　now；　yelling　for　a　cop；　telling　anyone　and　everyone　that　there　are　a　couple　of　loonies　trying　to　hitch　a　ride　out　of　Arcanum！　Jason！　Or　Jesus！　Or　Whoever；　I　don't　care！　You　want　to　see　some　fucking　nails　get　pounded；　Wolf？　You　do　that　a　few　more　times　and　you'll　feel　them　get　pounded！　Us！　We'll　get　pounded！'　
　　Exhausted；　bewildered；　frustrated；　almost　used　up；　Jack　advanced　on　the　cringing　Wolf；　who　could　have　torn　his　head　from　his　shoulders　with　one　hard；　swinging　blow　if　he　had　wanted　to；　and　Wolf　backed　up　before　him。
　　'Don't　shout；　Jack；'　he　moaned。　'The　smells　。　。　。　to　be　in　there　。　。　。　shut　up　in　there　with　those　smells　。　。　。　'
　　'I　didn't　smell　anything！'　Jack　shouted。　His　voice　broke；　his　sore　throat　hurt　more　than　ever；　but　he　couldn't　seem　to　stop；　it　was　shout　or　go　mad。　His　wet　hair　had　fallen　in　his　eyes。　He　shook　it　away　and　then　slapped　Wolf　on　the　shoulder。　There　was　a　smart　crack　and　his　hand　began　to　hurt　at　once。　It　was　as　if　he　had　slapped　a　stone。　Wolf　howled　abjectly；　and　this　made　Jack　angrier。　The　fact　that　he　was　lying　made　him　angrier　still。　He　had　been　in　the　Territories　less　than　six　hours　this　time；　but　that　man's　car　had　smelled　like　a　wild　animal's　den。　Harsh　aromas　of　old　coffee　and　fresh　beer　（there　had　been　an　open　can　of　Stroh's　between　his　legs）；　an　air…freshener　hanging　from　the　rear…view　mirror　that　smelled　like　dry　sweet　powder　on　the　cheek　of　a　corpse。　And　there　had　been　something　else；　something　darker；　something　wetter　。　。　。
　　'Not　anything！'　he　shouted；　his　voice　breaking　hoarsely。　He　slapped　Wolf's　other　shoulder。　Wolf　howled　again　and　turned　around；　hunching　like　a　child　who　is　being　beaten　by　an　angry　father。　Jack　began　to　slap　at　his　back；　his　smarting　hands　spatting　up　little　sprays　of　water　from　Wolf's　overalls。　Each　time　Jack's　hand　descended；　Wolf　howled。　'So　you　better　get　used　to　it　（Slap！）　because　the　next　car　to　e　along　might　be　a　cop　（Slap！）　or　it　might　be　Mr。　Morgan　Bloat　in　his　puke…green　BMW　（Slap！）　and　if　all　you　can　be　is　a　big　baby；　we're　going　to　be　in　one　big　fucking　world　of　hurt！　（Slap！）　Do　you　understand　that？'　
　　Wolf　said　nothing。　He　stood　hunched　in　the　rain；　his　back　to　Jack；　quivering。　Crying。　Jack　felt　a　lump　rise　in　his　own　throat；　felt　his　eyes　grow　hot　and　stinging。　All　of　this　only　increased　his　fury。　Some　terrible　part　of　him　wanted　most　of　all　to　hurt　himself；　and　knew　that　hurting　Wolf　was　a　wonderful　way　to　do　it。
　　'Turn　around！'
　　Wolf　did。　Tears　ran　from　his　muddy　brown　eyes　behind　the　round　spectacles。　Snot　ran　from　his　nose。
　　'Do　you　understand　me？'
　　'Yes；'　Wolf　moaned。　'Yes；　I　understand；　but　I　couldn't　ride　with　him；　Jack。'
　　'Why　not？'　Jack　looked　at　him　angrily；　fisted　hands　on　his　hips。　Oh；　his　head　was　aching。
　　'Because　he　was　dying；'　Wolf　said　in　a　low　voice。　
　　Jack　stared　at　him；　all　his　anger　draining　away。
　　'Jack；　didn't　you　know？'　Wolf　asked　softly。　'Wolf！　You　couldn't　smell　it？'
　　'No；'　Jack　said　in　a　small；　whistling；　out…of…breath　voice。　Because　he　had　smelled　something；　hadn't　he？　Something　he　had　never　smelled　before。　Something　like　a　mixture　of　。　。　。
　　It　came　to　him；　and　suddenly　his　strength　was　gone。　He　sat　down　heavily　on　the　guardrail　cable　and　looked　at　Wolf。
　　Shit　and　rotting　grapes。　That　was　what　that　smell　had　been　like。　That　wasn't　it　a　hundred　percent；　but　it　was　too　hideously　close。
　　Shit　and　rotting　grapes。
　　'It's　the　worst　smell；'　Wolf　said。　'It's　when　people　forget　how　to　be　healthy。　We　call　it…Wolf！…the　Black　Disease。　I　don't　even　think　he　knew　he　had　it。　And　。　。　。　these　Strangers　can't　smell　it；　can　they；　Jack？'
　　'No；'　he　whispered。　If　he　were　to　be　suddenly　teleported　back　to　New　Hampshire；　to　his　mother's　room　in　the　Alhambra；　would　he　smell　that　stink　on　her？
　　Yes。　He　would　smell　it　on　his　mother；　drifting　out　of　her　pores；　the　smell　of　shit　and　rotting　grapes；　the　Black　Disease。
　　'We　call　it　cancer；'　Jack　whispered。　We　call　it　cancer　and　my　mother　has　it。
　　'I　just　don't　know　if　I　can　hitch；'　Wolf　said。　'I'll　try　again　if　you　want；　Jack；　but　the　smells　。　。　。　inside　。　。　。　they're　bad　enough　in　the　outside　air；　Wolf！　but　inside　。　。　。　'　
　　That　was　when　Jack　put　his　face　in　his　hands　and　wept；　partly　out　of　desperation；　mostly　out　of　simple　exhaustion。　And；　yes；　the　expression　Wolf　believed　he　had　seen　on　Jack's　face　really　had　been　there；　for　an　instant　the　temptation　to　leave　Wolf　was　more　than　a　temptation；　it　was　a　maddening　imperative。　The　odds　against　his　ever　making　it　to　California　and　finding　the　Talisman…whatever　it　might　be…had　been　long　before；　now　they　were　so　long　they　dwindled　to　a　point　on　the　horizon。　Wolf　would　do　more　than　slow　him　down；　Wolf　woul