dk.coldfire-第69节

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r　five　years　ago；　Jim　thought。　Why　did　I　tell　her　five　years　ago　when　the　truth　is　twenty…four？　It　was　ing。　
　He　sensed　it。　
　ing。　
　The　Enemy。　
　He　said；　〃Excuse　me；　gotta　get　some　fresh　air。〃　He　hurried　outside　and　stood　by　the　car；　gasping　for　breath。　
　Looking　back；　he　discovered　that　Holly　had　not　followed　him。　He　could　see　her　through　a　pharmacy　window；　talking　to　Handahl。　
　It　was　ing。　
　Holly；　don't　talk　to　him；　Jim　thought。　Don't　listen　to　him；　get　out　of　there。　
　It　was　ing。　
　Leaning　against　the　car；　he　thought：　the　only　reason　I　fear　Corbett　Handahl　is　because　he　knows　more　about　my　life　in　Svenborg　than　I　remember　myself　Lub…dub…DUB。　
　It　was　here。　
　Handahl　stared　curiously　after　Jim。　
　Holly　said；　〃I　think　he's　never　gotten　over　what　happened　to　his　parents　。　。　。　or　to　Lena。〃　
　Handahl　nodded。　〃Who　could　get　over　a　horrible　thing　like　that？　He　was　such　a　nice　little　kid；　it　broke　your　heart。〃　Before　Holly　could　ask　anything　more　about　Lena；　Handahl　said；　〃Are　you　two　moving　into　the　farmhouse？〃　〃No。　Just　staying　for　a　couple　of　days。〃　
　〃None　of　my　business；　really；　but　it's　a　shame　that　land　isn't　being　farmed。〃　
　〃Well；　Jim's　not　a　farmer　himself；〃　she　said；　〃and　with　nobody　willing　to　buy　the　place…〃　〃Nobody　willing　to　buy　it？　Why；　young　lady；　they'd　stand　twenty　deep　to　buy　it　if　Jim　would　put　it　on　the　market。〃　
　She　blinked　at　him。　
　He　went　on：　〃You　have　a　real　good　artesian　well　on　that　property；　which　means　you　always　have　water　in　a　county　that's　usually　short　of　it。〃　He　leaned　against　the　granite　counter　and　folded　his　arms　across　his　chest。　
　〃The　way　it　works…when　that　big　old　pond　is　full　up；　the　weight　of　all　that　water　puts　pressure　on　the　natural　wellhead　and　slows　the　inflow　of　new　water。　But　you　start　pumping　it　out　of　there　to　irrigate　crops；　and　the　flow　picks　up；　and　the　pond　is　pretty　much　always　full；　like　the　magic　pitcher　in　that　old　fairytale。〃　He　tilted　his　head　and　squinted　at　her。　〃Jim　tell　you　he　couldn't　sell　it？〃　〃Well；　I　assumed…〃　〃Tell　you　what；〃　Handahl　said；　〃maybe　that　man　of　yours　is　more　sentimental　than　I'd　thought。　Maybe　he　doesn't　want　to　sell　the　farm　because　it　has　too　many　memories　for　him。〃　
　〃Maybe；〃　she　said。　〃But　there're　bad　as　well　as　good　memories　out　there。〃　
　〃You're　right　about　that。〃　
　〃Like　his　grandmother　dying；〃　she　noodged；　trying　to　get　him　back　on　that　subject。　〃That　was…〃　A　rattling　sound　interrupted　her。　She　turned　and　saw　bottles　of　shampoo；　hairspray；　vitamins；　and　cold　medicines　jiggling　on　their　shelves。　
　〃Earthquake；〃　Handahl　said；　looking　up　worriedly　at　the　ceiling；　as　if　he　thought　it　might　tumble　in　on　them。　
　The　containers　rattled　more　violently　than　ever；　and　Holly　knew　they　were　disturbed　by　something　worse　than　an　earthquake。　She　was　being　warned　not　to　ask　Handahl　any　more　questions。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　
　The　cozy　world　of　the　quaint　pharmacy　started　ing　apart。　The　bottles　exploded　off　the　shelves；　straight　at　her。　She　swung　away；　drew　her　arms　over　her　head。　The　containers　hammered　her；　flew　past　her　and　pelted　Handahl。　The　humidor；　which　stood　behind　the　counter；　was　vibrating。　Instinctively　Holly　dropped　to　the　floor。　Even　as　she　went　down；　the　glass　door　of　that　case　blew　outward。　Glass　shrapnel　cut　the　air　where　she　had　been　standing。　She　scrambled　toward　the　exit　as　glittering　shards　rained　to　the　floor。　Behind　her　the　heavy　cash　register　crashed　off　the　granite　counter；　missing　her　by　inches；　barely　sparing　her　a　broken　spine。　
　Before　the　walls　could　begin　to　blister　and　pulse　and　bring　forth　an　alien　form；　she　reached　the　door；　fled　through　the　newsstand；　and　went　into　the　street；　leaving　Handahl　in　what　he　no　doubt　assumed　was　earthquake　rubble。　
　The　tripartite　beat　was　throbbing　up　from　the　brick　walkway　beneath　her　feet。　
　She　found　Jim　leaning　against　the　car；　shuddering　and　white…faced；　with　the　expression　of　a　man　standing　on　a　precipice；　peering　into　a　gulf　longing　to　jump。　He　did　not　respond　to　her　when　she　said　his　name。　
　He　seemed　on　the　verge　of　surrendering　to　the　dark　force　that　he'd　held　within　…and　nurtured…all　these　years　and　that　now　wanted　its　freedom。　
　She　jerked　him　away　from　the　car；　put　her　arms　around　him；　held　him　tight；　tighter；　repeating　his　name；　expecting　the　sidewalk　to　erupt　in　geysers　of　brick；　expecting　to　be　seized　by　serrated　pincers；　tentacles；　or　cold　damp　hands　of　inhuman　design。　But　the　triple…thud　heartbeat　faded；　and　after　a　while　Jim　raised　his　arms　and　put　them　around　her。　
　The　Enemy　had　passed。　
　But　it　was　only　a　temporary　reprieve。　
　Svenborg　Memorial　Park　was　adjacent　to　Tivoli　Gardens。　The　cemetery　was　separated　from　the　park　by　a　spearpoint　wrought…iron　fence　and　a　mix　of　trees…mostly　white　cedars　and　spreading　California　Peppers。　
　Jim　drove　slowly　along　the　service　road　that　looped　through　the　graveyard。　〃Here。〃　He　pulled　to　the　side　and　stopped。　
　When　he　got　out　of　the　Ford；　he　felt　almost　as　claustrophobic　as　he　had　in　the　pharmacy；　even　though　he　was　standing　in　the　open　air。　
　The　slatedark　sky　seemed　to　press　down　toward　the　gray　granite　monuments；　while　those　rectangles　and　squares　and　spires　strained　up　like　the　knobs　of　ancient　time…stained　bones　half　buried　in　the　earth。　
　In　that　dreary　light；　the　grass　looked　gray…green。　The　trees　were　gray…green；　too；　and　seemed　to　loom　precariously；　as　if　about　to　topple　on　him。　
　Going　around　the　car　to　Holly's　side；　he　pointed　north。　〃There。〃　
　She　took　his　hand。　He　was　grateful　to　her　for　that。　
　Together　they　walked　to　his　grandparents'　grave　site。　It　was　on　a　slight　rise　in　the　generally　flat　cemetery：　A　single　rectangular　granite　marker　served　both　plots。　
　Jim's　heart　was　beating　hard；　and　he　had　difficulty　swallowing。　
　Her　name　was　chiseled　into　the　right…hand　side　of　the　monument。　
　LENA　LOUISE　IRONHEART。　
　Reluctantly　he　looked　at　the　dates　of　her　birth　and　death。　She　had　been　fifty…three　when　she　died。　And　she　had　been　dead　twenty…four　years。　
　This　must　be　what　it　felt　like　to　have　been　brainwashed；　to　have　had　one's　memory　painted　over；　false　memories　air…brushed　into　the　blanks　His　past　seemed　like　a　fogbound　landscape　revealed　only　by　the　eerie　and　inconstant　luminescent　face　of　a　cloud…shrouded　moon。　He　suddenly　could　not　see　back　through　the　years　with　the　same　clarity　he　had　enjoyed　an　hour　ago；　and　he　could　not　trust　the　reality　of　what　he　still　did　see；　clear　recollections　might　prove　to　be　nothing　more　than　tricks　of　fog　and　shadow　when　he　was　forced　to　confront　them　closely。　
　Disoriented　and　afraid；　he　held　fast　to　Holly's　hand。　
　〃Why　did　you　lie　to　me　about　this；　why　did　you　say　five　years？〃　she　asked　gently。　
　〃I　didn't　lie。　At　least。　。　。　I　didn't　realize　I　was　lying。〃　He　stared　at　the　granite　as　if　its　polished　surface　was　a　window　into　the　past；　and　he　struggled　to　remember。　〃I　can　recall　waking　up　one　morning　and　knowing　that　my　grandmother　was　dead。　Five　years　ago。　I　was　living　in　the　apartment　then；　down　in　Irvine。〃　He　listened　to　his　own　voice　as　if　it　belonged　to　someone　else；　and　the　haunted　tone　of　it　gave　him　a　chill。　〃I　dressed。　。　。　
　drove　north。　。　。　bought　flowers　in　town。　。　。　then　came　here。　。　。　
　。〃　
　After　a　while；　when　he　did　not　continue；　Holly　said；　〃Do　you　remember　a　funeral　that　day？〃　〃No。〃　
　〃Other　mourners？〃　〃No。〃　
　〃Other　flowers　on　the　grave？〃　〃No。　All　I　remember　is。　。　。　kneeling　at　the　headstone　with　the　flowers　I'd　brought　for　her。　。　。　crying。　。　。　I　cried　for　a　long　time；　couldn't　stop　crying。〃　
　Passing　him　on　the　way　to　other　graves；　people　had　looked　at　him　with　sympathy；　then　with　embarrassment　as　they　had　realized　the　extent　of　his　emotional　collapse；　then　with　uneasiness　as　they　had　seen　a　grief　in　him　so　wild　that　it　made　him　seem　unbalanced。　He　could　even　now　remember　how　wild　he　had　felt　that　day；　glaring　back　at　those　who　stared　at　him；　wanting　nothing　more　than　to　claw　his　way　down　into　the　earth　and　pull　it　over　him　as　if　it　were　a　blanket；　taking　rest　in　the　same　hole　as　his　grandmother。　But　he　could　not　remember　why　he　had　felt　that　way　or　why　he　was　beginning　to　feel　that　way　again。　
　He　looked　at　the　date　of　her　death　once　more…September　25…and　he　was　too　frightened　now　to　cry。　
　〃What　is　it？　Tell　me；〃　Holly　urged。　
　〃That's　when　I　came　with　the　flowers；　the　only　other　time　I've　ever　e；　the　day　I　remember　as　the　day　she　died。　September　twenty…fifth。　。　
　。　but　five　years　ago；　not　twenty…four。　It　was　the　nineteenth　anniversary　of　her　death。　。　。　but　at　the　time　it　seemed　to　me；　and　always　has；　that　she'd　only　just　then　died。〃　
　They　were　both　silent。　
　Two　large　blackbirds　wheeled　across　the　somber　sky；　shrieking；　and　disappeared　over　the　treetops。　
　Finally　Holly　said；　〃Could　it　be；　you　denied　her　death；　refused　to　accept　it　when　it　really　happened；　twenty…four　years　ago？　Maybe　you　were　only　able　to　accept　it　nineteen　years　later。　。　。　the　day　you　came　here　with　the　flowers。　That's　why　you　remember　her　dying　so　much　more　recently　than　she　did。　You　date　her　death　from　the　day　you　finally　accepted　it。〃　
　He　knew　at　once　that　she　had　hit　upon　the　truth；　but　the　answer　did　not　make　him　feel　better。　〃But　Holly；　my　God；　that　is　madness。〃　
　〃No；