jdavid.footprintsofthunder-第16节

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ine。〃　While　John　had　a　clear　set　of　rules　that　were　virtually　inviolable；　Ripman's　father　didn't　care　what　he　did；　as　long　as　he　did　it　somewhere　else。　And　Ripman　was　usually　somewhere　else。
　Cubby's　father　was　the　worst　though。　He　was　the　most　popular　minister　in　the　state　and　even　had　a　regional　following　on　cable　TV。　He　〃trusted〃　his　son。　He　〃trusted〃　him　enough　to　buy　him　the　van；　and　〃trusted〃　him　enough　not　to　put　restrictions　on　him；　except　one。　He　had　to　be　in　church　every　Sunday　morning　and　every　Wednesday　evening。　Otherwise；　until　he　violated　his　father's　trust；　what　Cubby　did　was　〃between　his　son　and　the　Holy　Spirit。〃　As　far　as　John　knew；　Cubby　had　never　done　anything　to　violate　that　trust。　At　least　not　anything　his　father　knew　about。　There　was　no　way　to　know　what　the　〃Holy　Spirit〃　knew。
　〃All　right；　Ripman；〃　Cubby　said　with　confidence　in　his　voice；　〃get　me　under　that　sign。　This　is　for　Hostess　pies；　right？〃
　Ripman　put　the　van　in　gear　and　pulled　up。　Before　it　stopped　rolling　Cubby　had　his　head　poked　up　through　the　sunroof　and　was　holding　the　long…handled　sign　changer；　which　Ripman　had　〃found〃　and　Cubby　kept　in　his　van。　Overhead　signs　always　earned　more　points。
　Cubby；　at　six　foot　five　inches　with　a　heavily　packed　frame；　filled　the　opening　in　the　roof。　The　football　coaches　drooled　every　time　Cubby　walked　by；　but　Cubby　had　never　had　any　interest　in　their　game。　The　biggest　guy　in　school；　he　was　about　the　gentlest。　If　you　looked　at　his　face　closely　enough　you　could　see　the　babyish　look　of　the　pale　blue　eyes　and　the　rounded　facial　features；　but　you　had　to　look　quick　because　Cubby　had　learned　that　the　best　way　to　avoid　having　to　be　tough　is　to　look　tough。　Cubby　had　the　tough　look　down　cold。　He'd　stare　at　you　glassy　eyed　and　not　blink　or　flinch　no　matter　what　you　did；　and　then　he　would　talk　slowly；　and　simply；　with　a　lot　of　menace　in　his　voice　but　no　cursing。　It　was　pretty　effective。　John　didn't　know　anyone　else　who　could　act　that　tough　without　swearing　their　brains　out。
　Cubby　popped　down　from　the　roof　and　tossed　the　gripper　toward　the　back。
　〃Hit　it；　Ripman。〃
　After　Ripman　swung　out　of　the　parking　lot；　he　and　John　looked　back　at　the　sign；　which　had　started　with：
　
　TODAY'S　SPECIAL
　BURRITO；　TOSTATA
　OR　TWO　TACOS　AND　LARGE　COKE
　1。99
　
　Now　it　read：
　
　TACOS　TASTE　LIKE　BUTS　SMELL
　
　Cubby　had　to　invert　the　w　to　get　the　m　and　used　the　1　from　　1。99　for　one　of　the　ls　but　there　was　no　rule　against　it　and　it　could　earn　you　extra　points。　It　was　the　best　anagram　of　the　night；　and　Ripman　was　cracking　up。
　〃Elemental。　I　love　it。　El…ahh…men…tahl。〃
　Elemental　was　Ripman's　favorite　superlative。　He　used　it　for　everything　that　pleased　him。　When　John　and　Cubby　first　heard　him　use　it　they　thought　he　meant　elementary；　like　the　word　Sherlock　Holmes　was　always　using　to　insult　Dr。　Watson。　Ripman　was　clear　though；　it　was　elemental；　and　it　meant　the　simple　and　basic　things…the　things　that　life　was　really　all　about。　And　to　Ripman　that　meant　things　that　didn't　depend　on　other　things。　That　was　Ripman's　dream。　To　live　a　life　that　didn't　depend　on　other　people；　on　things；　or　on　society。
　Ripman　was　a　self…proclaimed　woodsman；　but　you　didn't　call　him　a　survivalist　to　his　face。　Survivalists　weren't　elemental　enough　for　Ripman。　To　Ripman　the　chink　in　the　survivalists'　armor　was　their　dependence　on　technology：　freeze…dried　food；　water　recycling　systems；　solar…powered　stills；　and　automatic　weapons。　To　Ripman；　an　elemental　person　was　someone　who　needed　only　a　knife　to　survive；　not　an　Uzi。
　〃Elemental！〃　Ripman　exclaimed　again。　〃Cubby；　once　again　you　stumbled　uncontrollably　into　a　winner。〃　To　John　he　chortled；　〃Get　your　wallet　out；　it's　pie　time。〃
　Eager　to　get　back；　John　was　just　glad　the　game　was　over。　At　the　7…Eleven　they　all　piled　out　and　went　in　to　select　their　pies。　Cubby　picked　apple；　as　always。　John　picked　a　berry　pie　and　Ripman　the　lemon。　Cubby　was　reading　the　front　page　of　the　National　Enquirer　when　John　and　Ripman　headed　out　the　front　door；
　〃Jeez；　John；　why　do　you　buy　those　things？〃　Ripman　asked。
　〃What　things？〃
　〃Those　berry　pies。　I　mean　it　doesn't　even　say　what　kind　of　berries　are　in　it。　For　all　you　know　they　could　be　dingleberries。〃
　John　was　going　to　tell　Ripman　to　cram　it　when　he　noticed　a　car　pulling　in　next　to　Cubby's　van。　It　was　a　jacked…up　1969　Chevy　Camaro　painted　primer　gray；　and　it　looked　like　it　would　always　be　a　fixer…upper。　There　were　two　too…large　Pioneer　speakers　wedged　into　the　back　window；　blasting　out　some　indistinguishable　hard　rock　sound。　Now　three　guys　who　were　looking　for　trouble　climbed　out。　The　driver；　the　smallest　of　the　three；　was　a　little　shorter　than　John　at　five　foot　eight　but　had　huge　shoulders　and　arms。　His　head　was　huge　too；　and　his　large　lopsided　mouth　was　shaped　permanently　into　a　wise…guy　grin。　He　looked　like　a　dwarf　that　had　been　inflated　to　normal　size。　All　three　guys　wore　faded　Levi's　and　jean　jackets；　and　their　hair　was　shaved　close　on　the　sides。　The　biggest　one　was　about　six　feet　tall　and　hung　back　a　little　from　the　other　two。　He　was　unmonly　ugly　and　wore　his　hair　down　so　that　it　covered　half　his　pimply　face。　When　the　driver　stepped　out　in　front　of　the　others；　they　assumed　tough　guy　poses　behind　him；　〃What　are　you　assholes　doing　in　our　town？〃　The　creep；　John　knew；　was　referring　to　him　and　Ripman。　John　also　knew　a　rhetorical　question　when　he　heard　one。　Unfortunately；　Ripman　didn't；
　〃You　talking　to　us？〃　Ripman　said；　with　a　surprising　amount　of　menace　in　his　voice。
　
　John　had　known　Ripman　since　his　freshman　year　in　high　school。　Their　homeroom　turned　out　to　be　PE　class　and　the　exmarine　gym　teacher　had　screamed　out　their　names　as　he　worked　through　the　alphabet　assigning　locker　mates。　〃Ripman；　Roberts；　number　two　thirty…eight。〃
　In　all　the　time　he　had　known　him；　John　had　never　seen　Ripman　in　a　fight。　Ripman　claimed　to　be　six　feet　tall　but　was　probably　a　little　short　of　that　and　on　the　thin　side。　He　was　big　enough　to　discourage　the　bullies　in　school；　but　this　one　in　Newberg　didn't　look　or　act　discouraged。
　The　leader　snorted；　smacked　his　gum　a　few　times；　looked　Ripman　up　and　down；　then；　with　catlike　quickness；　snatched　Ripman's　pie。　The　wise…guy　grin　got　bigger　as　he　held　it　up。　Pimples　snorted　his　approval。
　The　big　dwarf　turned　back　to　Ripman。
　〃You　want　this　back；　asshole？〃
　Ripman　didn't　answer；　he　just　stared　defiantly。　The　big　dwarf　smacked　his　gum　and　grinned　some　more。　Ripman　flinched　when　the　hand　came　toward　his　head；　but　then　held　his　ground　when　the　big　dwarf　squished　the　pie　into　his　hair。
　〃All　right！〃　pimples　chortled。
　With　a　slow　deliberate　motion　Ripman　brought　his　hand　up　to　his　head　and　forcefully　scraped　the　pie　off；　throwing　it　toward　the　big　dwarf's　feet；　splattering　them　with　lemon　filling。　Then　the　door　behind　them　opened　and　Cubby　came　out。　He　was　doing　his　tough…guy　routine。
　〃There　a　problem　here？〃　Cubby　asked　in　a　voice　two　octaves　below　normal。
　Cubby　pushed　past　the　thugs　and　opened　the　van　door。　The　big　dwarf　was　turning　red；　his　blood　boiling…apparently　he　knew　his　limits　and　Cubby　was　a　little　beyond　them。　John　climbed　onto　the　bench　seat　in　the　back；　but　Ripman　surprised　him　by　climbing　into　the　passenger　seat。　It　surprised　Cubby　too。　He　almost　never　drove　his　van；　preferring　to　ride　in　the　passenger　seat；　hollering　out　the　window　while　Ripman　drove　fast　and　semirecklessly。
　As　Cubby　started　up　the　van　and　backed　slowly　out　of　the　parking　slot；　Ripman　maintained　eye　contact　with　the　big　dwarf。　Suddenly　the　big　dwarf　spit　his　gum　at　Ripman；　sticking　it　to　the　middle　of　the　passenger　window。　When　Ripman　gave　him　the　finger　in　return；　the　big　dwarf　nodded　and　glared；　in　mitment　to　see　Ripman　another　time　when　Cubby　wouldn't　be　around。
　As　Cubby　headed　them　north；　Ripman　sulked；　staring　at　the　glob　of　gray　gum。　John　knew　what　was　eating　at　Ripman。　Unable　to　handle　the　situation　with　the　big　dwarf　he'd　violated　his　〃elemental〃　principle　by　requiring　Cubby's　help。　They　drove　out　of　town　in　silence　and　darkness。
　Cubby　took　them　east　on　99　toward　Portland。　As　they　climbed　Breed's　hill　out　of　Newberg's　valley；　John　could　see　the　lights　of　the　little　town　below　them。
　Then　the　lights　went　out。　John　managed　to　get　a　〃hey〃　out　of　his　mouth　before　a　sonic　boom　rattled　the　van。　All　three　boys　gasped；　and　before　their　ears　and　hearts　had　recovered；　the　storm　hit。　The　sudden　wind　drove　the　van　across　the　lane　onto　the　narrow　shoulder　of　the　road；　bordered　by　large　rocks。　Cubby　hit　the　brakes　and　fought　to　keep　the　van　out　of　the　ditch。　Gravel　machine…gunned　the　bottom　of　the　van　and　the　tires　screeched　as　the　van　slid　to　a　stop。　Silently；　they　all　stared　out　the　van　windows。
　The　wind　roared　around　the　van。　John　was　horrified　to　see　the　fir　trees　on　the　other　side　of　the　road　bending　in　half。　Would　they　reach　the　van　if　they　fell？　The　van　rocked　with　each　gust　of　wind　and　John　honestly　wondered　whether　it　might　be　safer　to　get　out。　Then　behind　him；　emerging　from　behind　the　hill　to　the　west；　he　saw　a　funnel　cloud　was　dancing　through　farmlands；　ripping　up　crops　and　trees。　John　was　seventeen　years　old　and　had　spent　all　his　life　in　Oregon。　In　that　time　he　had　never　heard　of　a　tornado　in　the　state。
　The　funnel　was