pzb.lostsouls-第34节

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ng　as　hard　as　he　could。　After　a　few　minutes　he　stopped　and　looked　back　over　his　shoulder。　But　the　flower　stand　and　the　lone　figure；　if　there；　were　hidden　in　shadow。
　　
　　The　T…bird　was　still　parked　in　the　driveway　when　Ghost　rode　up；　though　the　house　was　unlit。　He　leaned　the　bike　against　the　side　of　the　house；　where　the　paint　was　flaking　away。　By　now　it　was　almost　too　dark　to　see；　though　weak　moonlight　limned　the　edges　of　the　clouds。　On　the　porch　Ghost　almost　fell　over　a　crate　of　beer　bottles　that　Steve　had　dragged　out　of　the　house。　Then　he　pushed　the　door　open　and　was　inside；　throwing　the　deadbolt　lock；　turning　on　lamps。　There　must　be　light。　Light　to　keep　him　from　thinking　about　the　flower…seller　out　there　in　the　deepening　night。
　　Steve　lay　on　the　couch；　blearily　rubbing　his　eyes　against　the　sudden　brightness；　several　empty　beer　bottles　on　the　floor　beside　him。　He　had　been　using　a　pile　of　dirty　sweat…shirts　for　a　pillow；　and　his　face　still　bore　the　faint　pattern　of　seams　and　creases。　Ghost　felt　something　under　his　foot…Steve's　keyring　lay　by　the　door　as　if　Steve　had　hurled　it　across　the　room。　He　picked　it　up；　rubbed　his　thumb　over　the　plastic　tab　that　said　Budweiser；　held　it　in　his　hand。　The　keys　jingled　faintly　against　one　another…the　house　key；　the　keys　to　the　T…bird　and　the　Whirling　Disc　record　store　where　Steve　worked；　other　keys　obsolete　and　useless　but　too　venerable　to　be　thrown　away　or　tossed　into　a　drawer。　There　was　a　feeling　on　the　keyring　like　the　object's　aura；　Steve's　emotion　as　he　had　last　touched　it。　Disgust　and　nausea。　It　gave　the　metal　a　cold；　faintly　slimy　feel。　〃Did　you　call　in　sick？〃　he　asked。
　　Steve　nodded。　〃Was　just　gonna　have　a　beer　before　I　went　to　work。　Next　time　I　looked　down；　four　of　'em　were　gone；　so　I　just　kept　on　drinking。　Might　as　well　call　in　drunk　for　all　the　difference　it　makes。〃
　　〃What　happened？〃
　　〃I　fell　asleep　and　had　this　dream。。。　about　Ann。　I　dreamed　her　face　was　all　bloody　and　some　of　her　teeth　were　knocked　out。　I　reached　out　to　touch　her　and　saw　my　hand　was　bloody　too。　I'd　done　it　to　her。　You　know　what　I　really　did　to　her？　Do　you　know　about　it；　Ghost？〃
　　Ghost　looked　at　the　floor。　〃I　guess　you　raped　her。〃
　　〃I　guess　I　raped　her　too。　I　guess　she　didn't　mind。　I　guess　she　liked　it　pretty　good。〃
　　〃e　on；　Steve。　That's　a　shitty　thing　to　say。　She　didn't　like　it。〃
　　〃Whose　side　are　you　on？〃
　　〃Yours。〃
　　〃How　do　you　know　she　didn't　like　it？　You　read　her　sick　little　mind　or　something？〃
　　〃No。　I　went　over　to　see　her　the　other　day。〃
　　All　at　once　Steve　was　up　off　the　couch；　grabbing　handfuls　of　Ghost's　sweatshirt；　pushing　his　face　up　close　to　Ghost's。　〃What　the　fuck　you　mean　you　went　to　see　her？　You　went　over　there　without　telling　me？〃
　　〃I　wanted　to　see　how　she　was。〃
　　Steve　stared　into　Ghost's　placid　face。　He　knew　he　wasn't　scaring　Ghost；　not　in　the　slightest；　he　was　only　making　a　fool　of　himself。　But　the　alcohol　in　his　brain　refused　to　let　him　shut　up。　〃You　stay　away　from　that　lying　cunt；〃　he　snarled；　〃or　else　you　decide　whose　friend　you　really　are。〃
　　Ghost's　wide　blue　eyes　met　Steve's；　forgiving　but　unrelenting。　Ghost　would　not　soothe　Steve　this　time；　would　not　capitulate。　What　the　fuck　did　Ghost　know？　Ghost　hadn't　gone　through　Ann's　mind…games；　hadn't　been　betrayed　by　her。　But　here　he　stood；　oh　so　self…righteous。　It　would　be　easy　enough　to　slap　that　obstinate　look　off　Ghost's　face；　shake　the　visions　out　of　that　thin　body　。　。　。
　　What　was　he　thinking？　Hit　Ghost　？　What　the　hell　was　he　turning　into？　　〃Jesus；〃　he　whispered。　〃Jesus　Christ。〃
　　〃He's　not　here；〃　said　Ghost　sullenly。　〃You　gonna　put　me　down？〃
　　〃Shit；　no；〃　said　Steve。　He　pulled　Ghost　down　on　the　couch　with　him；　hugged　him　tight。　〃I'm　sorry。　I'm　so　sorry。　Don't　hate　me。〃
　　Ghost　didn't　say　anything；　but　his　hands　found　Steve's　face；　touched　Steve's　aching　temples　and　smoothed　back　his　messy　dark　hair。　Steve　let　his　head　droop　onto　Ghost's　shoulder。　Holding　any　other　guy　this　way　would　have　made　him　feel　like　a　fag；　with　Ghost　it　wasn't　an　issue；　it　never　seemed　to　matter。
　　After　a　few　minutes　he　tried　to　speak。　The　words　came　like　slow　drops　of　blood　from　a　ragged　wound。　〃I　。　。　。　I　tried　to　call　her　a　couple　of　times。　Hung　up　when　she　answered；　real　cool。　Then　I　got　Simon；　and　he　wouldn't　let　me　talk　to　her。　She　asked　him　to　screen　her　calls；　I　guess。　I　guess　I　fucked　up　pretty　good。〃
　　〃I　know；〃　said　Ghost。　〃I　know　how　things　were。〃
　　And　you　probably　do；　too；　Steve　thought。　You　probably　know　everything　that　ever　happened　to　us；　the　hot　nights　and　the　sodden…silk　texture　inside　her；　the　weeks　when　things　were　starting　to　go　bad；　the　ether　of　betrayal；　the　look　on　her　face；　and　the　moment　of　absolute　shock；　like　falling　into　deep　icy　water；　when　I　realized　I　had　really　for　chrissake　raped　her。
　　He　pulled　away　from　Ghost。　He　felt　his　face　contorting；　but　he　would　not　cry；　he　would　not　cry。
　　For　a　long　time　they　sat　in　panionable　silence。　Steve　felt　his　drunkenness　receding　to　a　fortable　buzz；　and　Ghost　opened　his　bottle　of　scuppernong　wine　to　catch　up。　They　were　booked　at　the　Sacred　Yew　the　following　night；　so　Steve　dragged　out　his　guitar　and　they　ran　haphazardly　through　their　set；　knowing　it　didn't　matter。　They　had　played　the　Yew　hundreds　of　times。　They　might　play　there　a　hundred　times　more；　and　their　little　group　of　fans　would　e　to　drink　and　dance；　and　nothing　would　matter　except　the　exuberance　of　playing。
　　〃Let's　listen　to　the　tape；〃　Steve　suggested。　He　thought　he　ought　to　remind　himself　what　the　songs　really　sounded　like。　Ghost　stumbled　to　the　stereo；　and　soon　Lost　Souls？　filled　the　little　house；　the　guitar　hard…edged　and　gloriously　mad；　Ghost's　words　bittersweet；　with　a　visionary　longing。　〃We　need　the　roots　but　you　can't　dig　up　the　tree　。　。　。〃　Ghost　sang　along　with　his　own　golden…gravel　voice。　〃So　walk　the　mountain　roads　with　me　and　drink　some　clear　water　。　。　。〃
　　Steve　sang　along　too；　strumming　the　guitar。　Those　were　the　words　of　a　visionary；　weren't　they？　Those　were　the　words　of　somebody　who　remembered　what　magic　was。　There　was　magic　left　in　the　world；　there　had　to　be。　Steve　banged　at　the　strings。　Beneath　the　noise　he　heard　a　fiery；　chiming　melody。
　　Ghost　lifted　his　head　and　sang　louder。　His　voice　soared　high　and　found　its　way　through　cracks　in　the　windows　and　walls；　out　into　the　sparkling　night；　down　to　the　road　that　led　past　the　house。
　　At　the　sound　of　that　voice；　an　old　passing　drifter　looked　up　and　remembered　a　train　track　he　had　hiked　along　down　to　Georgia　some　thirty　years　ago。　A　train　track　flanked　with　rioting　kudzu　and　towering　pines　and　the　bewitching　scent　of　honeysuckle；　a　train　track　that　made　a　two…bit　bottle　of　wine　taste　of　nectar　and　cool　shade。　The　drifter；　whose　name　was　Rudy；　lifted　his　face　to　the　chill　cloudy　sky。　A　mile　down　the　road　he　would　find　himself　in　the　arms　of　Christian；　whose　hunger　by　now　overshadowed　his　taste　for　thin　children　in　black。　But　the　last　few　minutes　of　Rudy's　life　were　spent　in　sweet　memory。
　　Back　in　the　house；　Steve　stopped　playing　and　smacked　his　forehead。　〃I　forgot。　Some　mail　came　for　you。　Our　first　fan　letter；　I　guess。〃　Steve　dug　through　the　clutter　on　the　floor　and　found　a　postcard；　creased　and　dog…eared；　its　colors　muted　with　the　grime　of　small…town　post　offices。
　　Ghost　read　it：　〃'You　don't　know　me；　but　Dylan　Thomas　drank　eighteen　straight　whiskeys　on　November　ninth；　1953；　and　I　am　drinking　one　for　you。〃　He　looked　up　at　Steve。　〃It's　signed　'Nothing。'〃
　　〃What's　it　about？〃
　　〃Who　knows？〃
　　〃Why　don't　you　hold　it　to　your　forehead　and　find　out？　Go　on；　tell　me　to　fuck　myself。〃
　　〃Suck　my　aura；〃　said　Ghost；　and　swigged　the　last　sweet　drops　of　his　wine。
　　
　　　Chapter　19
　　
　　〃WAKE　UP！〃　said　a　loud　voice　that　seemed　to　reverberate　from　the　center　of　Nothing's　brain。　〃WE'RE　HERE！〃
　　Nothing　opened　and　shut　his　eyes　several　times。　〃I　wasn't　asleep；〃　he　said。　〃How　could　I　sleep？〃
　　Zillah　had　placed　another　hit　of　Crucifix　on　his　tongue　sometime　between　midnight　and　dawn；　and　since　then　Nothing　had　not　known　where　he　was；　or　who　he　was　with；　or　why　he　had　ever　bothered　to　wonder。　He　roamed　the　corridors　of　his　mind；　hopelessly　lost；　unable　to　find　his　way　back　to　the　familiar　voices　he　could　hear　faintly；　faintly…arguing　and　laughing　outside　his　skull；　and　his　body　jittered　like　a　skeleton　on　a　string。
　　Yet　maybe　he　had　slept；　for　he　thought　he　had　dreamed　strange　dreams。　Dreamed　of　sucking　at　a　hot　torn　pulse；　splashing　in　blood　that　still　pumped　in　weak　spurts　from　the　vein　with　each　beat　of　the　dying　heart。　Dreamed　of　rubbing　his　gory　hands　over　Zillah's　face；　licking　blood　off　Zillah's　eyelashes；　drinking　it　from　Zillah's　lips　where　it　tasted　sweeter　yet。　He　had　dreamed　of　Molochai　and　Twig　wallowing　in　blood；　sudsing　it　into　each　other's　hair；　rolling　in　it　half…naked；　their　pallid　skin　streaked　sticky　red。　Why　was　there　so　much　blood？
　　Because　your　teeth　weren't　sharp　enough；　a　voice　in　his　mind　answered。　There　was　nothing　neat　about　it。　Don't　you　remember　how　you　had　to　tear　chunks　of　his　throat　away　before　you　could　lap　up　that　sweet　blood？　Don't　you　remember　Zillah's　face　buried　in　the　ruin　of　his　crotch　like　a　sadistic　lover？
　　Nothing　shied　a