sk.thetalisman-第96节

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gside；　romping　through　the　stripped　fields。　Free；　Wolf　beamed　at　him　with　pumpkin…colored　eyes。　When　he　jerked　his　eyes　away；　Jack　felt　the　absence　of　a　Wolf…hand　folding　itself　around　his。　Now　that　he　missed　his　friend　so　pletely；　the　memory　of　his　impatience　with　Wolf　shamed　him；　brought　the　blood　to　his　face。　He　had　thought　about　abandoning　Wolf　more　times　than　he　could　count。　Shameful；　shameful。　Wolf　had　been　。　。　。　it　took　Jack　a　long　time　to　take　it　in；　but　the　word　was　noble。　And　this　noble　being；　so　out　of　place　in　this　world；　had　died　for　him。
　　I　kept　my　herd　safe。　Jack　Sawyer　was　the　herd　no　longer。　I　kept　my　herd　safe。　There　were　times　when　the　truckdrivers　or　insurance　salesmen　who　had　picked　up　this　strange；　pelling　boy　on　the　side　of　the　road…picked　him　up　even　though　the　boy　was　road…dirty　and　shaggy；　even　though　they　might　never　have　taken　on　a　hitchhiker　before　in　their　lives…looked　over　and　saw　him　blinking　back　tears。
　　Jack　mourned　Wolf　as　he　sped　across　Illinois。　He　had　somehow　known　that　he　would　have　no　trouble　getting　rides　once　in　that　state；　and　it　was　true　that　often　all　he　had　to　do　was　stick　out　his　thumb　and　look　an　oning　driver　in　the　eye…instant　ride。　Most　of　the　drivers　did　not　even　demand　the　Story。　All　he　had　to　do　was　give　some　minimal　explanation　for　travelling　alone。　'I'm　going　to　see　a　friend　in　Springfield。'　'I　have　to　pick　up　a　car　and　drive　it　back　home。'　'Great；　great；'　the　drivers　said…had　they　even　heard？　Jack　could　not　tell。　His　mind　riffled　through　a　mile…high　stack　of　images　of　Wolf　splashing　into　a　stream　to　rescue　his　Territories　creatures；　Wolf　nosing　into　a　fragrant　box　that　had　held　a　hamburger；　Wolf　pushing　food　into　his　shed；　bursting　into　the　recording　studio；　taking　the　bullets；　melting　away　Jack　did　not　want　to　see　these　things　again　and　again；　but　he　had　to　and　they　made　his　eyes　burn　with　tears。
　　Not　far　out　of　Danville；　a　short；　fiftyish　man　with　iron…gray　hair　and　the　amused　but　stern　expression　of　one　who　has　taught　fifth　grade　for　two　decades　kept　darting　sly　looks　at　him　from　behind　the　wheel；　then　finally　said；　'Aren't　you　cold；　buster？　You　ought　to　have　more　than　that　little　jacket。'
　　'Maybe　a　little；'　Jack　said。　Sunlight　Gardener　had　thought　the　denim　jackets　warm　enough　for　field…work　right　through　the　winter；　but　now　the　weather　licked　and　stabbed　right　through　its　pores。
　　'I　have　a　coat　on　the　back　seat；'　the　man　said。　'Take　it。　No；　don't　even　try　to　talk　your　way　out　of　it。　That　coat's　yours　now。　Believe　me；　I　won't　freeze。'
　　'But…'
　　'You　have　no　choice　at　all　in　the　matter。　That　is　now　your　coat。　Try　it　on。'　
　　Jack　reached　over　the　back　of　the　seat　and　dragged　a　heavy　length　of　material　onto　his　lap。　At　first　it　was　shapeless；　anonymous。　A　big　patch　pocket　surfaced；　then　a　toggle　button。　It　was　a　loden　coat；　fragrant　with　pipe　tobacco。
　　'My　old　one；'　the　man　said。　'I　just　keep　it　in　the　car　because　I　don't　know　what　to　do　with　it…last　year；　the　kids　gave　me　this　goosedown　thing。　So　you　have　it。'　
　　Jack　struggled　into　the　big　coat；　putting　it　on　right　over　the　denim　jacket。　'Oh　boy；'　he　said。　It　was　like　being　embraced　by　a　bear　with　a　taste　for　Borkum　Riff。
　　'Good；'　the　man　said。　'Now　if　you　ever　find　yourself　standing　out　on　a　cold　and　windy　road　again；　you　can　thank　Myles　P。　Kiger　of　Ogden；　Illinois；　for　saving　your　skin。　Your…'　Myles　P。　Kiger　looked　as　though　he　were　going　to　say　more：　the　word　hung　in　the　air　for　a　second；　the　man　was　still　smiling；　then　the　smile　warped　into　goofy　embarrassment　and　Kiger　snapped　his　head　forward。　In　the　gray　morning　light；　Jack　saw　a　mottled　red　pattern　spread　out　across　the　man's　cheeks。
　　Your　（something）　skin？
　　Oh；　no。
　　Your　beautiful　skin。　Your　touchable；　kissable；　adorable　。　。　。　Jack　pushed　his　hands　deep　into　the　loden　coat's　pockets　and　pulled　the　coat　tightly　around　him。　Myles　P。　Kiger　of　Ogden；　Illinois；　stared　straight　ahead。
　　'Ahem；'　Kiger　said；　exactly　like　a　man　in　a　ic　book。
　　'Thanks　for　the　coat；'　Jack　said。　'Really。　I'll　be　grateful　to　you　whenever　I　wear　it。'
　　'Sure；　okay；'　Kiger　said；　'forget　it。'　But　for　a　second　his　face　was　oddly　like　poor　Donny　Keegan's；　back　in　the　Sunlight　Home。　'There's　a　place　up　ahead；'　Kiger　said。　His　voice　was　choppy；　abrupt；　full　of　phony　calm。　'We　can　get　some　lunch；　if　you　like。'
　　'I　don't　have　any　money　left；'　Jack　said；　a　statement　exactly　two　dollars　and　thirty…eight　cents　shy　of　the　truth。
　　'Don't　worry　about　it。'　Kiger　had　already　snapped　on　his　turn　indicator。
　　They　drove　into　a　windswept；　nearly　empty　parking　lot　before　a　low　gray　structure　that　looked　like　a　railway　car。　A　neon　sign　above　the　central　door　flashed　EMPIRE　DINER。　Kiger　pulled　up　before　one　of　the　diner's　long　windows　and　they　left　the　car。　This　coat　would　keep　him　warm；　Jack　realized。　His　chest　and　arms　seemed　protected　by　woolen　armor。　Jack　began　to　move　toward　the　door　under　the　flashing　sign；　but　turned　around　when　he　realized　that　Kiger　was　still　standing　beside　the　car。　The　gray…haired　man；　only　an　inch　or　two　taller　than　Jack；　was　looking　at　him　over　the　car's　top。
　　'Say；'　Kiger　said。
　　'Look；　I'd　be　happy　to　give　you　your　coat　back；'　Jack　said。
　　'No；　that's　yours　now。　I　was　just　thinking　I'm　not　really　hungry　after　all；　and　if　I　keep　on　going　I　can　make　pretty　good　time；　get　home　a　little　earlier。'
　　'Sure；'　Jack　said。
　　'You'll　get　another　ride　here。　Easy。　I　promise。　I　wouldn't　drop　you　here　if　you　were　going　to　be　stranded。'
　　'Fine。'
　　'Hold　on。　I　said　I'd　get　you　lunch；　and　I　will。'　He　put　his　hand　in　his　trouser　pocket；　then　held　a　bill　out　across　the　top　of　the　car　to　Jack。　The　chill　wind　ruffled　his　hair　and　flattened　it　against　his　forehead。　'Take　it。'
　　'No；　honest；'　Jack　said。　'It's　okay。　I　have　a　couple　dollars。'
　　'Get　yourself　a　good　steak；'　Kiger　said；　and　was　leaning　across　the　top　of　the　car　holding　out　the　bill　as　if　offering　a　life　preserver；　or　reaching　for　one。
　　Jack　reluctantly　came　forward　and　took　the　bill　from　Kiger's　extended　fingers。　It　was　a　ten。　'Thanks　a　lot。　I　mean　it。'
　　'Here；　why　don't　you　take　the　paper；　too；　have　something　to　read？　You　know；　if　you　have　to　wait　a　little　or　something。'　Kiger　had　already　opened　his　door；　and　leaned　inside　to　pluck　a　folded　tabloid　newspaper　off　the　back　seat。　'I've　already　read　it。'　He　tossed　it　over　to　Jack。
　　The　pockets　of　the　loden　coat　were　so　roomy　that　Jack　could　slip　the　folded　paper　into　one　of　them。
　　Myles　P。　Kiger　stood　for　a　moment　beside　his　open　car　door；　squinting　at　Jack。　'If　you　don't　mind　my　saying　so；　you're　going　to　have　an　interesting　life；'　he　said。
　　'It's　pretty　interesting　already；'　Jack　said　truthfully。
　　
　　Salisbury　steak　was　five　dollars　and　forty　cents；　and　it　came　with　french　fries。　Jack　sat　at　the　end　of　the　counter　and　opened　the　newspaper。　The　story　was　on　the　second　page…the　day　before；　he　had　seen　it　on　the　first　page　of　an　Indiana　newspaper。　ARRESTS　MADE；　RELATED　TO　SHOCK　HORROR　DEATHS。　Local　Magistrate　Ernest　Fairchild　and　Police　Officer　Frank　B。　Williams　of　Cayuga；　Indiana；　had　been　charged　with　misuse　of　public　monies　and　acceptance　of　bribes　in　the　course　of　the　investigation　of　the　deaths　of　six　boys　at　the　Sunlight　Gardener　Scripture　Home　for　Wayward　Boys。　The　popular　evangelist　Robert　'Sunlight'　Gardener　had　apparently　escaped　from　the　grounds　of　the　Home　shortly　before　the　arrival　of　the　police；　and　while　no　warrants　had　as　yet　been　issued　for　his　arrest　he　was　urgently　being　sought　for　questioning。　WAS　HE　ANOTHER　JIM　JONES？　asked　a　caption　beneath　a　picture　of　Gardener　at　his　most　gorgeous；　arms　outspread；　hair　falling　in　perfect　waves。　Dogs　had　led　the　State　Police　to　an　area　near　the　electrified　fences　where　boy's　bodies　had　been　buried　without　ceremony…five　bodies；　it　appeared；　most　of　them　so　deposed　that　identification　was　not　possible。　They　would　probably　be　able　to　identify　Ferd　Janklow。　His　parents　would　be　able　to　give　him　a　real　burial；　all　the　while　wondering　what　they　had　done　wrong；　exactly；　all　the　while　wondering　just　how　their　love　for　Jesus　had　condemned　their　brilliant；　rebellious　son。
　　When　the　Salisbury　steak　came；　it　tasted　both　salty　and　woolly；　but　Jack　ate　every　scrap。　And　soaked　up　all　the　thick　gravy　with　the　Empire　Diner's　underdone　fries。　He　had　just　about　finished　his　meal　when　a　bearded　trucker　with　a　Detroit　Tigers　cap　shoved　down　over　long　black　hair；　a　parka　that　seemed　to　be　made　from　wolfskins；　and　a　thick　cigar　in　his　mouth　paused　beside　him　and　asked；　'You　need　a　ride　west；　kid？　I'm　going　to　Decatur。'　Halfway　to　Springfield；　just　like　that。
　　　
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　　That　night；　in　a　three…dollar…a…night　hotel　the　trucker　had　told　him　about；　Jack　had　two　distinct　dreams：　or　he　later　remembered　these　two　out　of　many　that　deluged　his　bed；　or　the　two　were　actually　one　long　joined　dream。　He　had　locked　his　door；　peed　into　the　stained　and　cracked　sink　in　the　corner；　put　his　knapsack　under　his　pillow；　and　fallen　asleep　holding　the　big　marble　that　in　the　other　world　was　a　Territories　mirror。　There　had　been　a　suggestion　of　music；　an　almost　cinematic　touch…fiery　alert　bebop；　at　a　volume　so　low　Jack　could　just　pick　out　that　the　lead　instrum