pzb.lostsouls-第8节
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d out ahead； long and smooth and magical； unrolling like a carpet all the way down to Christian's bar in New Orleans。
Chapter 4
Heading south again； away from the Virginia border toward home； Steve swung the car onto a side road and drove toward the hill。 The town of Roxboro usually fascinated Ghost； made him press his face to the window trying to see all its barbecue shacks and barbershops； its Southern Pride car wash whose sign read； mysteriously； AS WE THINK； SO WE ARE； its one dilapidated nightclub outside which dark shapes always lurked； regardless of hour or temperature。
But tonight Ghost had been silent all through Roxboro； his eyes open and vacant； he seemed still lost in his story。 Steve wanted to take him away from those twins； those dream twins dying or dead。 Too often the phantoms of Ghost's dreams possessed him even after he woke； claimed all his attention and a little of his soul。
The visions worried Steve as much as they enchanted him。 Ever since they had bee friends； Steve had thought of himself as Ghost's protector because he was a year older and because so often Ghost seemed to hover precariously on the edge of reality。 Ghost lived with one foot in Steve's world of beer and guitars and friends； the other in the pale never…never land of his visions。 Reality was often too much for Ghost； it could puzzle and hurt him。
Sometimes it seemed that Ghost consented to live in the world only because Steve was there； and Ghost would not leave Steve alone。 Please； God or Whoever…Steve crossed his fingers on the steering wheel…please don't let him change his mind about that。
Ghost was so damned important； so valuable。 When Ghost was along； ordinary surroundings…a pizza joint； a lonely stretch of highways' became strange； maybe threatening； maybe wild and beautiful。 Ghost tinged reality。 And Steve consented to let it be tinged and saw things he would never have seen otherwise； things he did not always believe or understand。 He credited Ghost with saving his imagination from the death…in…life of adolescence。
What about another time you were driving late at night； he thought； too late at night； driving with Ghost； and he had you convinced you'd driven into the ocean？ Saw flying fish； starfish。 Saw a swimming pool full of air。 Maybe he'd fallen asleep behind the wheel that time； maybe he and Ghost were lucky the T…bird hadn't wrapped around a tree； creaming both of them。 Maybe that was what had happened。 But mostly Steve accepted the share of magic the world had given him in Ghost； deluded himself that he； fearless old Steve Finn； was the leader。 The protector。 Yeah； right。
Because； especially now； what would life be without Ghost？ He thought he knew the answer to that one。 So much shit； that's what life would be。 So much lonely； aching； empty shit。 Ghost was taking cam of him nowadays。 The thing with Ann had nearly convinced Steve that his life was worthless。 More than once he had found himself thinking about death in the middle of the night。 Just drive over to Raleigh and score some barbs； then pick up a quart of whiskey on the way home。 Take 'em all at once。 There's one cocktail that'll never give you a hangover。 But he could no more swallow that cocktail than he could have shoved it down Ghost's throat。 Their friendship was the' only thing keeping him sane right now； and he guessed he owed it more of a debt than that。
Somehow the last image of Ghost's dream…the twins lying on their bare mattress； fiat； their beauty spent…had gotten all mixed up in his mind with the sight of the dead kid on the roadside thirty miles behind。 Both pictures drifted in front of Steve's face； obscuring the road。 He shook his head to banish them。 When Ghost turned to look at him； Steve saw death in Ghost's eyes； a faint pale shadow。
〃Let's drive up to the hill；〃 said Steve。 〃It'll be nice there。 See the stars。〃
〃The stars were waiting for us；〃 Ghost said when the T…bird reached the end of the road and pulled off。 They were in a clearing thick with weeds and late…summer wildflowers。 In the tall grass； empty cans and bottles shone dully； not marring the weird beauty of the hill but mirroring the huge luminous stars in the sky。
Behind them stretched the road； winding all the way back to Missing Mile； before them； a barbed…wire fence marked the break of the hill； and acres of pastureland fell away； rolling gently down to the shore of Lake Hyco。 Miles off…Steve thought it was miles； but he couldn't be sure； the air was so clear…the electric power plant shimmered； all green and white and dimly roaring； reflected in the lake。 It was so green here； so lush even after the hot Carolina summer； with the tall grass and the cow pastures and the great oak that spread its branches over the clearing。
Ghost knew all the stories of that oak。 He said an Indian had climbed it to escape from a bear once。 The marks of the bear's claws were still there； eight feet up the trunk； deep and twisted in the thick bark。 The claws had hurt the tree； Ghost said； and it had bled clear sap to fill the wound； to stop the blaze of blind pain。 Now the scar was knotted； invulnerable； and the tree sang with the hum of the power plant far away on the lake。
Ghost looked at the tree； silently greeting it most likely。 Steve stood watching； one hand on the warm hood of the T…bird。 He ran his other hand through his hair； shoving it back behind his ears； trying to tame it。 Finally； against his will； he said； 〃What killed that kid？〃
Ghost shrugged； pulled his hair over his face。 〃Something bad。 Something really bad。〃
Steve started to say no shit； then thought better of it。 Sometimes you didn't want to say such things to Ghost。 They walked to the fence and looked out over the pastures toward the power plant。 Steve curled his fingers around the barbed wire。 It was cold； colder than the night air； as cold as dead flesh。 He shivered。 〃A psycho；〃 he said。 〃A dog。 Maybe that Doberman the lady had。 You suppose there's any wolves left around here？〃
Ghost tossed his hair back and slowly shook his head。 〃It wasn't any wolf or dog。 How could they suck him dry like that？ And if you think it was a psycho； how e you're not scared to be up here？ He would've taken off。 He could be anywhere。〃
〃Probably across the Virginia border by now。〃 Steve saw again the cavernous throat； the sad brown hand with road dirt ground into the creases of its palm。 He was aware of the cool air against his eyes； drying and chilling them。 He squinted at the power plant； making the lights run together fuzzily； dazzlingly 。 。 。 and then Ann was in his head again。
He remembered the last time he'd e up here； months ago。 With her。 They had made love on a blanket in the back…seat of the T…bird； hot and sweaty； but the clear cool air of the hill had blown over them； and the lights of the power plant had run together in just the same way。
Steve's shoulders drew up and he clamped his arms across his chest； ready to say Let's leave； let's get the hell out of here · 。 。 and then Ghost was offering him a green apple。 Distracting him。 It worked； Steve had to wonder where in hell the apple had e from。 He took a big bite and handed it back； chewing slowly； letting the golden…tasting juice run over his tongue： crunchy； sweet。 The taste made him feel better。 〃You remember the Hook？〃 he asked after he had swallowed the mouthful。 〃That old spook story？〃
〃Uh…uh；〃 said Ghost； eating the core of the apple。 Steve watched to see whether Ghost would spit out the seeds。 When he didn't； Steve spoke again。 〃You know； that story about the kids out at Lovers Lane。 They're fucking in the backseat； and all of a sudden this bulletin es on the radio about a crazy man escaped from the asylum outside of town。 A psycho killer with a hook instead of a hand。〃
Steve looked at Ghost。 Ghost was leaning against one of the fence posts； head tilted back； staring at the sky。 The moon had gone behind a cloud。 Ghost's face was shadowed； his eyes dark。 He might have been listening； then again； he might have been receiving messages from an agrarian collective civilization somewhere near Alpha Centauri。
〃So they hauled ass out of Lovers Lane；〃 Steve went on anyway； 〃and when they got home； the boy went around the car to open the door for the girl。 And what do you think he found？ A bloody hook； hanging from the handle of the door！〃 He leaned over and spoke the last words right into Ghost's ear。
Ghost jumped； almost fell over。 He stared at Steve for several seconds； then grinned。 〃Out at Lovers Lane？〃 he asked。 Both of them turned to look at the T…bird parked in the clearing。 It sat large and dusty； its engine giving an occasional metallic groan as it cooled。
〃How e…〃 Ghost began； and Steve knew Ghost was about to exhibit the weird； irritating logic that sometimes possessed him。 He was going to ask how e the couple had the radio on while they were fucking； or why the psycho killer would have reached to open the car door with his hook when he could have used his hand。 But then the moon sailed out from behind its cloud and flooded the hill with cold white light； and Ghost sucked in his breath； sharp and scared。
Steve followed Ghost's gaze to the oak and saw
