pzb.lostsouls-第31节
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Chapter 17
Morning on a sunny road with the music cranked up and the wine flowing free。 Morning in this new world without long days at school and wasted evenings spent smoking too many cigarettes at Skittle's。 Morning； and someone to wake up with； three someones with their warm friendly bodies and their interesting； meaty smell。 Nothing realized now that they smelled of blood； both old and fresh； and he found himself getting used to it； liking it。 And at last he was in the South； with its green cathedrals of kudzu and its railroad tracks to clatter over at eighty miles an hour。
Around lunchtime Zillah passed out tiny squares of paper …blotter； he said。 〃Crucifix〃 from New York。 Molochai and Twig gulped theirs down。 Nothing looked thoughtfully at his。 He had only taken acid twice； weak stuff called Yin/Yang； bought off Jack for three dollars a hit。 Then he shrugged。 The tempo of his days would be different from now on； he might as well enjoy what came with them。 He touched the square of paper to his tongue and let it dissolve there。
Soon afterward they stopped at a Waffle House。 Molochai wanted pie； and Twig requested a burger cooked very rare； but Zillah ordered only a glass of water and Nothing did not dare eat anything。 Already he could feel the acid beginning to tickle inside him。
Molochai and Twig spread their fingers on the greasy tabletop； laughing over some obscure private joke。 Molochai started opening packets of sugar。 Zillah was quiet； but Nothing could feel his gaze； green and hot and somehow demanding。 Nothing toyed with the cream pitcher； shredded the corner of a paper napkin。 What should he do？ What did Zillah want him to do？
He looked at Molochai and Twig hoping for some kind of clue； but they were tussling。 Arguing over who had more room in the plastic booth； it seemed。 〃I only have one inch…〃
〃I know you only have one inch； stupid； why are you telling me about your dick？〃
Nothing's stomach tightened and his head swam。 This was going to make the other times he'd tripped look like children's games； like dreams of dreams。 Thousands of tiny fingers came alive inside him； crawling。 He rubbed his hands over his face。 His skin felt numb； tight； rubbery。 His throat was closing。 He breathed deep and with an effort was able to swallow。 The spit ran down his throat； syrupy； slicking its way along the passages of his body。 He started wondering about something he'd never thought of before： where did spit go when he swallowed？ Did it all go to his stomach； and did that mean his stomach was full of spit？
He wanted to stop thinking。
He stared across the table at Molochai and Twig； who appeared to be primping。 Twig took out an eyeliner pencil； pried Molochai's left eye open； and drew a shaky line along the tender edge of the lower lid。 Molochai sat through it without a pretest。 Despite their squabbling； the two seemed to trust each other unquestioningly。
Nothing's gaze dropped to the table。 At some point the others had gotten their food and devoured it； the remains of their meal lay there； mangled。 Bits of Twig's hamburger； fragments of meat and onion stuck to bread stained pink。 The ruins of Molochai's pie； smears of strawberry bleeding into smudges of whipped cream； gory as a roadkill。 In the midst of the carnage rose Zillah's glass； immaculate； free from fingerprints； half full of cold clear water。
Molochai put his fingers into the pie and licked them。 He smiled across the table at Nothing。 His eyes seemed all pupil； black…ringed and enormous； hectically shiny。 There was red goo in the spaces between Molochai's teeth： pie filling。 It reminded Nothing of the bottle hidden under the mattress in the back of the van； still half full。 That taste rose again in his mouth。 Sharing their weird blood cocktail somehow made him feel closer to them than any drug or kinky sex act could。 It made him more a part of their psychedelic nighttime world。
For the blood was the life…
He frowned。 Where had that thought e from； out of what acid…swirled corner of his brain？ A feathery touch slid up his thigh。 Zillah was smiling at him too； a smile like the Mona Lisa's； if the Mona Lisa had crazy green eyes and was blasted out of her mind on Crucifix acid。
〃Are you having fun？〃 asked Zillah。
〃Sure；〃 said Nothing； and realized that he was。 He mar…veiled at how the world could shift in an instant。 A moment ago he'd been getting tied up in mind knots； half…afraid of his new friends。 His friends who were more exciting than anyone he had known before； their pany more intoxicating because somehow they were like him。 They accepted him。 This was what he had wished for on nights alone in his room； rubbing the ash of incense between his fingers； drifting among the stars on the ceiling； bleeding from the wrist or from somewhere deep inside。 What was there to be afraid of？
They got back in the van； cranked the music up again； and drove。 Later in the evening they took another round of Crucifix； and sometime after midnight Nothing was just ing into the thick of his trip。 He lay curled up on the mattress； his hands pressed to his eyes； watching the brilliant checkered patterns that swirled in the darkness behind his eyelids。 His insides shifted； he thought he felt the ends of his intestines twitching。 His mind plummeted； raced； soared。 He wanted to raise his head and talk to Zillah； but just then a new design swirled up from the depths of blindness all black and silver and crimson； and he could only lie there and watch it。
〃Cool；〃 said Molochai happily； as if he too could see Nothing's designs。 But Molochai was out of his head。 He and Twig had taken two doses of Crucifix each； and they were tripping hard。 Molochai might have been talking about the luminous colored stars in the sky or the moth that had just smeared itself stickily across the windshield or the sweet taste in his mouth。
Twig snorted。 〃There's no room for another hitchhiker。 Anyway； we've already got one。〃
〃I want that one too；〃 said Molochai； enraptured。 〃His hair was full of flowers。〃
〃We don't know quite what we've got； do we？〃 Zillah mused。 〃This would be a good chance to find out。 If not…then more for us。〃
Nothing didn't know what they were talking about； but he felt the van lurch to a stop。 Zillah's warm breath touched Nothing's ear。 〃Wake up。 We have a surprise for you。 We're taking on a passenger。
Nothing looked up。 Molochai was opening the side door。 The hitchhiker climbed in； staring at the colored stickers； the graffiti； the dark stains all over the walls and the mattress； as scared and eager as Nothing must have looked yesterday。 He was a boy of thirteen or fourteen； a boy too small and thin for his years； a pale child whose feathery white…blond hair hung in his eyes； escaping in wisps from a blue bandanna。 As Nothing watched； the boy lifted a delicate hand and took a long drag on his cigarette。 His clove cigarette。 His mouth would taste of ash and spice； and surely of his tears； as it used to。 If it was him 。 。 。 if it was impossibly； magically him。
〃Laine？〃 said Nothing。
〃Omigod；〃 breathed the boy； and then they were hugging each other fiercely。 Nothing was brushing Laine's hair from his eyes； forgetting how Laine had annoyed him； how he had risen above the futility of his friends' lives； how he had felt such scorn for their placent desperation。 He had not thought he was homesick； but now seeing Laine was almost like being back in his room。 The damp salty taste of Laine's mouth made him remember the stars on his ceiling。 Tears。 Laine's mouth always tasted of tears。
〃I found you；〃 Laine said。 〃I can't believe I found you。 I knew I would。〃
〃What happened to you？〃
〃I left the day after you did。 When we dropped you off at the bus station； I realized you were the only thing in my life that wasn't bullshit。 You were the only one of that whole crowd I ever cared about。 I had to get out of there too。 I didn't know if I'd ever find you； but I had to try。〃 Laine kissed him again； timidly touching Nothing's lips with the wet tip of his tongue。
Nothing looked up。 The other three were watching him avidly。 Twig looked on with a mild predatory interest。 Molochai's mouth hung open； his teeth glistened with spit； and his cheeks were flushed pink。 He looked almost healthy。 But Zillah 。 。 。 Nothing tried to disentangle himself from Laine。 Zillah was sitting up very straight； his black…nailed hands clenched on his knees； his eyes full of that cold green fire again。
〃He's my friend；〃 Nothing managed to say。 〃From back home。〃
〃How nice；〃 said Zillah； his voice was like a bonbon of creamy white chocolate filled with some green corrosive poison。 The fire in his eyes snapped； spat。 It seemed about to burn a line through the air to Nothing； crisp Nothing's eyes with its luminescence。
〃He's cool；〃 said Nothing without much conviction。 〃Maybe he could ride with us。〃 Surely Zillah wouldn't make Twig stop the van and put Laine out in the chill September night just because Nothing knew him from back home。 But worse than that…what if Zillah put them both out？ What if they put him out on some glittering 2：00 A。M。 stretch of nowhere； tripping his brains out； with onl
