dk.coldfire-第9节

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at　slithered　in　the　desert。　
　They　were　holding　their　handguns；　pointed　at　the　ground。　Jim　thrust　the　shotgun　at　them　and　shouted；　〃Drop　'em；　damn　it！〃　Either　they　were　the　hardest　of　hard　cases　or　they　were　nuts…probably　both…because　they　didn't　freeze　at　the　sight　of　the　shotgun。　The　guy　with　the　redoubled　ponytail　flung　himself　to　the　ground　and　rolled。　
　Simultaneously；　the　refugee　from　Road　Warrior　brought　up　his　pistol；　and　Jim　pumped　a　round　into　the　guy's　chest　at　point…blank　range；　blowing　him　backward　and　down　and　all　the　way　to　hell。　
　The　survivor's　feet　vanished　as　he　wriggled　under　the　Road　king。　
　To　avoid　being　shot　in　the　foot　and　ankle；　Jim　grabbed　the　open　door　and　jumped　onto　the　step　beside　the　driver's　seat。　Even　as　his　feet　left　the　ground；　two　shots　boomed　from　under　the　motor　home；　and　one　of　them　punctured　the　tire　beside　which　he'd　been　standing。　
　Instead　of　retreating　into　the　Road　king；　he　dropped　back　to　the　ground；　fell　flat；　and　shoved　the　shotgun　under　the　vehicle；　figuring　to　take　his　adversary　by　surprise。　But　the　guy　was　already　out　from　under　on　the　other　side。　Jim　could　see　only　the　black　cowboy　boots　hurrying　toward　the　rear　of　the　motor　home。　The　guy　turned　the　corner…and　vanished。　
　The　ladder。　At　the　right　rear　corner。　Next　to　the　racked　motorcycle。　
　The　bastard　was　going　onto　the　roof　Jim　hustled　all　the　way　under　the　Road　king　before　the　killer　could　look　over　the　edge　of　the　roof；　spot　him；　and　fire　down。　It　was　no　cooler　beneath　the　vehicle；　because　the　sun…scorched　earthen　shoulder　radiated　the　heat　it　had　been　storing　up　since　dawn。　
　Two　cars　roared　by　on　the　highway；　one　close　after　the　other。　He　hadn't　heard　them　ing；　maybe　because　his　heart　was　beating　so　hard　that　it　felt　as　if　he　were　inside　a　kettle　drum。　He　cursed　the　motorists　under　his　breath；　then　realized　they　couldn't　be　expected　to　stop　when　they　saw　a　guy　like　Dork　Knob　prowling　the　top　of　the　motor　home　with　a　handgun　He　had　a　better　chance　of　winning　if　he　continued　to　do　the　unexpected　so　he　immediately　crawled　on　his　belly；　fast　as　a　marine　under　fire；　to　the　rear　of　the　Road　king。　He　twisted　onto　his　back；　eased　his　head　out　past　the　rear　bumper；　and　peered　up　across　the　Harley；　at　the　ascending　rungs　that　appeared　to　dwindle　into　blazing　white　sun。　
　The　ladder　was　empty。　The　killer　was　already　on　the　roof　He　might　think　that　he　had　temporarily　mystified　his　pursuer　with　his　vanishing　act　and　in　any　case　he　wouldn't　expect　to　be　followed　with　utter　wrecklessness　Jim　slid　all　the　way　into　the　open　and　went　up　the　ladder。　
　He　gripped　the　hot　siderail　with　one　hand；　holding　the　pact　shotgun　with　the　other；　trying　to　ascend　as　soundlessly　as　possible。　His　adversary　was　surprisingly　quiet　on　the　aluminum　surface　above；　making　barely　enough　noises　of　his　own　to　cover　an　occasional　pop　and　squeak　from　the　ladder　rungs　under　Jim's　feet。　
　At　the　top；　Jim　cautiously　raised　his　head　and　squinted　across　the　roof　The　killer　was　two…thirds　of　the　way　toward　the　front　of　the　Road　king；　the　right　side；　looking　down。　He　was　moving　along　on　hands　and　knees　which　must　have　hurt；　although　the　time…stained　white　paint　reflected　a　little　of　the　sun；　it　had　stored　sufficient　heat　to　sting　even　well…callused　hand　and　to　penetrate　blue　denim。　But　if　the　guy　was　in　pain；　he　didn't　show　it。　He　was　evidently　as　suicidally　macho　as　his　dead　buddy　had　been。　
　Jim　eased　up　another　rung。　
　The　killer　actually　lowered　himself　onto　his　belly；　though　the　roof　must　have　scorched　instantly　through　his　thin　T…shirt。　He　was　trying　to　maintain　as　low　a　profile　as　possible；　waiting　for　Jim　to　appear　below。　
　Jim　eased　up　one　more　rung。　The　roof　now　met　him　at　mid…torso。　He　turned　sideways　on　the　ladder　and　jammed　one　knee　behind　the　other　upright；　wedging　himself　in　place　so　he　would　have　both　hands　for　the　shotgun　and　so　the　recoil　would　not　knock　him　backward　to　the　ground　If　the　guy　on　the　roof　didn't　have　a　sixth　sense；　then　he　was　just　damned　lucky。　Jim　had　not　made　a　sound；　but　the　creep　suddenly　glanced　back　over　his　shoulder　and　spotted　him。　
　Cursing；　Jim　swung　the　shotgun　around。　
　The　killer　flung　himself　sideways；　off　the　roof　Without　getting　in　a　shot；　Jim　pulled　his　knee　from　behind　the　upright　and　jumped　from　the　ladder。　He　hit　the　ground　hard　but　kept　his　balance　stepped　around　the　corner　of　the　motor　home；　and　squeezed　off　one　round　But　the　creep　was　already　bolting　through　the　side　door。　At　worst；　he　caught　a　few　pellets　in　one　leg。　Probably　not　even　that。　
　He　was　going　after　the　woman　and　child。　
　Hostages。　
　Or　maybe　he　just　wanted　to　slaughter　them　before　he　was　cut　down　himself　The　past　couple　of　decades　had　seen　the　rise　of　the　vagabond　sociopath；　roaming　the　country；　looking　for　easy　prey；　racking　up　long　lists　of　victims；　attaining　sexual　release　as　much　from　brutal　murder　as　from　rape。　
　In　his　mind；　Jim　heard　the　anguished　voice　of　the　dying　man　in　the　station　wagon：　Lisa。　。　。　Susie。　。　。　My　wife；　daughter。　。　。　
　With　no　time　for　caution；　his　anger　having　grown　greater　than　his　fear；　he　raced　after　the　killer；　through　the　door；　into　the　Road　king；　entering　aft　of　the　cockpit。　His　sun…dazzled　eyes　couldn't　handle　the　parative　gloom　of　the　motor　home's　interior；　but　he　was　able　to　see　the　psychotic　sonofabitch　heading　toward　the　rear　of　the　motor　home；　past　the　lounge　area　and　into　the　galley。　
　A　shadowy　figure　now；　with　just　a　dark　oval　for　a　face；　the　killer　turned　and　fired。　The　slug　tore　a　chunk　out　of　a　wall…hung　storage　cabinet　to　the　left　of　Jim；　showering　him　with　splinters　of　Formica　and　smoking　particle　board。　
　He　didn't　know　where　the　woman　and　child　were。　He　was　afraid　of　hitting　them。　A　shotgun　wasn't　a　precise　weapon。　
　The　killer　fired　again。　The　second　bullet　passed　so　close　to　Jim's　face　that　it　left　a　wake　of　stinging…hot　wind；　like　a　kiss　of　fire　burning　across　his　right　cheek。　
　He　pumped　out　one　round；　and　the　blast　shook　the　tinny　walls。　The　killer　screamed　and　was　flung　hard　against　the　kitchen　sink。　Jim　fired　again；　reflexively；　half　deafened　by　the　double　explosion。　The　guy　was　virtually　lifted　off　his　feet；　hurled　backward；　slammed　against　the　rear　wall；　beside　a　closed　door　that　separated　the　main　living　area　from　the　bedroom。　Then　he　dropped。　
　Grabbing　a　couple　of　shells　from　his　pants　pocket；　reloading　the　shotgun　magazine；　Jim　moved　deeper　into　the　Road　king；　past　a　tattered　and　sagging　sofa。　
　He　knew　the　man　had　to　be　dead；　but　he　could　not　see　well　enough　to　be　certain　of　anything。　Though　shafts　of　the　Mojave　sun　shoved　in　like　hot　branding　irons　through　the　windshield　and　the　open　doors；　the　heavily　draped　side　windows　insured　that　the　rear　of　the　Road　king　was　filled　with　shadows；　and　there　was　a　thin　acrid　haze　of　smoke　from　all　the　gunfire。　
　When　he　reached　the　end　of　the　narrow　chamber　and　looked　down；　he　had　no　doubt　that　the　man　crumpled　on　the　floor　was　dead。　Bloody　human　garbage。　Garbage　alive；　now　garbage　dead。　
　At　the　sight　of　the　torn　and　battered　corpse；　a　savage　elation　grip　him；　a　furious　righteousness　that　was　both　thrilling　and　frightening。　He　wanted　to　be　sickened　by　what　he　had　done；　even　if　the　dead　man　deserved　to　die；　but　although　the　carnage　nauseated　him；　he　was　not　merely　repulsed。　He　had　encountered　purest　evil　in　human　form。　
　Both　the　bastards　deserved　worse　than　he　had　been　able　to　do　to　them；　deserving　long　and　slow　deaths　with　great　suffering；　much　terror。　He　felt　like　a　avenging　angel；　e　to　judgment；　filled　with　a　holy　rage。　
　He　knew　he　was　teetering　on　the　edge　of　a　psychosis　of　his　own；　knew　that　only　the　insane　were　unreservedly　certain　of　the　virtue　of　even　their　most　outrageous　act　but　he　could　find　no　doubt　within　him。　In　fact　his　anger　swelled　as　if　he　were　God's　avatar　into　whom　flowed　a　direct　current　of　the　Almighty　apocalyptic　wrath。　
　He　turned　to　the　closed　door。　
　The　bedroom　lay　beyond。　
　The　mother　and　child　had　to　be　in　there。　
　Lisa。　。　。　Susie。　。　。　
　But　who　else？　Sociopathic　killers　usually　operated　alone；　but　sometimes　they　paired　as　these　two　had　done。　Larger　alliances；　however；　were　rare。　
　Charles　Manson　and　his　〃family；〃　of　course。　There　were　other　examples。　
　He　couldn't　rule　anything　out；　not　in　a　world　where　the　trendiest　professors　of　philosophy　taught　that　ethics　were　always　situational　and　that　everyone's　point　of　view　was　equally　right　and　valuable；　regardless　of　its　logic　or　hate　It　was　a　world　that　bred　monsters；　and　this　beast　might　be　hydra…headed　He　knew　caution　was　called　for；　but　the　exhilarating　righteous　wrath　that　filled　him　also　gave　him　a　sense　of　invulnerability。　He　stepped　to　the　bedroom　door；　kicked　it　open；　and　shouldered　through；　knowing　he　might　be　gut…shot；　not　giving　a　damn；　shotgun　in　front　of　him；　ready　to　kill　or　be　killed。　
　The　woman　and　child　were　alone。　On　the　filthy　bed。　Bound　at　wrists　and　ankles　with　sturdy　strapping　tape。　Tape　across　their　mouths。　
　The　woman；　Lisa；　was　about　thirty；　slim；　an　unusually　attractive　blond　But　the　daughter；　Susie；　was　remarkably　more　beautiful　than　her　mother　ethereally　beautiful：　about　ten　years　old；　with　luminous　green　eyes；　delicate　features；　and　skin　as　flawless　as　the　membranous　interior　s