dk.nightchills-第33节

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　〃I　have　a　chapel　in　each　of　my　residences；〃　Dawson　said　proudly。　〃I　wouldn't　build　a　house　without　one。　It's　a　way　of　thanking　Him　for　all　that　He's　done　for　me。　After　all；　it's　be　cause　of　Him　that　I　have　the　houses　in　the　first　place。〃　Dawson　Went　to　the　door；　paused；　looked　back；　and　said；　〃I'll　thank　Him　for　Our　success　and　pray　for　more　of　the　same。〃
　〃Say　one　for　me；〃　Salsbury　said　with　sarcasm　he　knew　would　escape　the　man。
　Frowning；　Dawson　said；　〃I　don't　believe　in　that。〃
　〃In　what？〃
　〃I　can't　pray　for　your　soul。　And　I　can　only　pray　for　your　success　so　far　as　it　supports　my　own。　I　don't　believe　one　man　should　pray　for　another。　The　salvation　of　your　soul　is　your　own　concern…and　the　most　vital　of　your　life。　The　notion　that　you　can　buy　indulgences　or　have　someone　else…a　priest；　anyone　else
　…pray　for　you　…　。　。　Well；　that　strikes　me　as　Roman　Catholic。　I'm　not　Roman　Catholic。〃
　Salsbury　said；　〃Neither　am　I。〃
　〃I'm　glad　to　hear　it；〃　Leonard　said。　He　smiled　warmly；　one　Pope…hater　to　another；　and　went　out。
　A　maniac；　Salsbury　thought。　What　am　I　doing　in　partnership　with　that　maniac？
　Disturbed　by　his　own　question；　he　went　around　the　desk　again；　listening　to　the　voices　of　the　people　in　Black　River。　Gradually　he　forgot　about　Dawson　and　regained　his　confidence。　It　was　going　to　work　out　as　planned。　He　knew　it。　He　was　sure　of　it。　What　could　possibly　go　wrong？
　　
　11
　Friday；　August　26；　1977
　RYA　FLUNG　THE　CAGE　KEY　high　into　the　air　and　a　few　feet　ahead　of　her。　She　ran　forward　as　if　she　were　playing　center　field；　and　she　caught　the　golden　〃ball。〃　Then　she　flipped　it　up　and　ran　after　it　again。
　At　the　corner　of　Main　Street　and　Union　Road；　she　tossed　the　key　once　more…and　missed。　She　heard　the　metal　edge　ring　as　it　struck　the　sidewalk　behind　her；　but　when　she　turned　she　couldn't　see　the　trinket　anywhere。
　Emma　Thorp　bent　over　and　braced　her　arms　on　the　kitchen　table。　She　accidentally　knocked　aside　an　empty　coffee　cup。　It　fell　off　the　table　and　shattered　on　the　tile　floor。
　Kicking　the　fragments　out　of　his　way；　Salsbury　stepped　in　behind　her　and　with　both　hands　stroked　the　graceful　curve　of　her　back。
　Bob　watched；　smiling　primly。
　Jeremy　watched；　amazed。　
　Tat…tat…tat…tat…tat：　the　power；　Miriam；　his　mother；　the　whores；　Dawson；　Klinger；　women；　vengeance　…　。　。　Ricocheting　thoughts。
　She　looked　over　her　shoulder　at　him。
　〃I've　always　wanted　one　of　you　like　this。〃　He　giggled。　He　could　not　suppress　it。　He　felt　good。　〃Scared　of　me。　Of　me！〃
　Her　face　was　pale　and　streaked　with　tears。　Her　eyes　were　wide。
　Lovely；〃　he　said。
　〃I　don't　want　you　touching　me。〃
　〃Miriam　used　to　say　that。　But　with　Miriam　it　was　an　order。　She　never　begged。〃　He　touched　her。
　She　was　covered　with　gooseflesh。
　〃Don't　stop　crying；〃　he　said。　〃I　like　you　crying。〃
　She　wept；　not　quietly　but　uncontrollably　and　unashamedly；　as　if　she　were　a　child…or　as　if　she　were　in　agony。
　As　he　prepared　to　enter　her；　he　heard　someone　shout　just　beyond　the　window。　Startled；　he　said；　〃Who…〃
　The　kitchen　door　crashed　open。　A　boy；　no　older　than　Jeremy　Thorp；　came　inside；　shouting　at　the　top　of　his　voice　and　wind…milling　his　thin　arms。
　At　the　edge　of　the　Thorp　property；　Rya　tossed　the　key　and　missed　it　again。
　Two　errors　out　of　forty　catches　isn't　so　bad；　she　thought。　In　fact　that's　major　league　talent。　Rya　Annendale　of　the　Boston　Red　Sox！　Didn't　sound　bad。　Not　bad　at　all。　Rya　Annendale　of　the　Pittsburgh　Pirates！　That　was　even　better。
　This　time　she　saw　where　the　key　fell　in　the　grass。　She　went　straight　to　it　and　picked　it　up。
　When　the　door　flew　open　and　the　boy　charged　in　like　a　dangerous　animal　breaking　free　of　its　cage；　Salsbury　stepped　away　from　the　woman　and　pulled　up　his　trousers。
　〃You　let　go　of　her！〃
　The　boy　collided　with　him。
　〃Get　out　of　here！　Now！　Out！〃
　Under　attack；　Salsbury　staggered　backwards。　He　was　strong　enough　to　handle　the　boy；　but　he　was　suffering　from　surprise　and　confusion；　and　he　had　lost　his　balance。　When　he　backed　into　the　refrigerator；　still　trying　to　button　the　waistband　of　his　slacks；　the　boy　pummeling　him；　he　realized　that　it　was　ridiculous　for　him；　of　all　people；　to　retreat。　〃I　am　the　key。〃
　The　boy　hit　him。　Called　him　names。
　Desperate；　Salsbury　fought　back；　seized　him　by　the　wrists　and　struggled　with　him。　〃I　am　the　key！〃
　〃Mr。　Thorp！　Jeremy！　Help　me！〃
　〃Stay　right　where　you　are；〃　Salsbury　told　them。
　They　didn't　move。
　He　swung　the　boy　around；　reversing　their　positions；　and　slammed　him　against　the　refrigerator。　Bottles　and　cans　and　jars　rattled　loudly　on　the　shelves。
　Very　young　children　would　not　have　been　affected　by　the　subliminal　program　that　had　been　played　for　Black　River。　Below　the　age　of　eight；　children　were　not　sufficiently　aware　of　death　and　sex　to　respond　to　the　motivational　equations　that　the　subceptive　films　established　in　older　individuals。　Furthermore；　although　the　vocabulary　had　been　made　as　simple　as　possible　since　the　Hoibrook…Rossner…Picard　indoctrination；　a　child　had　to　have　at　least　a　third…grade　reading　ability　to　be　properly　impressed　by　the　block…letter　messages　that　established　the　key…lock　code　phrases。　But　this　boy　was　older　than　eight；　and　he　should　respond。
　Through　clenched　teeth　Salsbury　said；　〃I'm　the　key；　damn　you〃
　　
　　
　Halfway　across　the　lawn；　atop　the　grape　arbor；　a　robin　bounced　along　the　interlocking　vines；　stopped　after　every　second　or　third　hop；　cocked　its　head；　and　peered　between　the　leaves。　Rya　paused　to　watch　him　for　a　moment。
　Panic。
　He　had　to　guard　against　panic。
　But　he　had　made　a　fatal　mistake；　and　he　might　have　the　power　taken　away　from　him。
　…　No。　It　was　a　serious　mistake。　Granted。　Very　serious。　But　not　fatal。　He　must　not　panic。　Keep　cool。
　〃Who　are　you？〃　he　asked。
　The　boy　squirmed；　tried　to　free　himself。
　〃Where　are　you　from？〃　Salsbury　demanded；　gripping　him　so　tightly　that　he　gasped。
　The　boy　kicked　him　in　the　shin。　Hard。
　For　an　instant　Salsbury's　whole　world　was　reduced　to　a　bright
　bolt　of　pain　that　shot　from　his　ankle　to　his　thigh；　coruscated　in　his　bones。　Howling；　wincing；　he　almost　fell。
　'Wrenching　loose；　the　boy　ran　toward　the　sink；　away　from　the　table；　intent　on　getting　around　Salsbury。
　Salsbury　stumbled　after　him；　cursing。　He　grabbed　at　the　boy's　shirt；　hooked　it　with　his　fingers；　lost　hold　of　it　in　the　same　second；　tripped　and　fell。
　If　the　little　bastard　gets　away。
　〃Bob！〃　Panic。　〃Stop　him。〃　Hysteria。　〃Kill　him。　For　God's　sake；　kill　him！〃
　The　canary　cage　was　on　the　lawn　by　the　kitchen　window。
　Rya　heard　Buster　chattering…and　then　she　heard　someone　shouting　in　the　house。
　Tat…tat…tat…tat。。。
　Salsbury　got　up。
　Sick。　Scared。
　The　naked　woman　wept。
　Crazily；　he　thought　of　the　refrain　from　the　rhyme　that　went　with　a　child's　game　that　he　had　once　played：　all　fall　down。。　all　fall　down。　。　。　all　fall　down。。。
　Thorp　blocked　the　door。
　The　boy　tried　to　dodge　him。
　〃Kill　him〃
　Thorp　caught　the　intruder　and　drove　him　backwards；　knocked　him　against　the　electric　range　with　devastating　force；　clutched　him　by　the　throat；　and　pounded　his　head　into　the　stainless　steel　brightwork　that　ringed　the　four　burners。　A　frying　pan　fell　to　the　floor　with　a　clang！　As　if　he　were　a　machine；　an　automaton；　Thorp　hammered　the　boy's　head　against　the　metal　edge　until　he　felt　the　skull　give　way。　When　blood　sprayed　across　the　wall　behind　the　range　and　streamed　from　the　boy's　nostrils；　the　big　man　let　go；　stepped　back　as　the　body　crumpled　at　his　feet。
　Jeremy　was　crying。
　〃Stop　that；〃　Salsbury　said　sharply。
　The　boy　stopped；　reluctantly。
　On　his　way　to　the　bloodied　child；　Salsbury　saw　a　girl　in　the　open　door。　She　was　staring　at　the　blood；　and　she　seemed　mesmerized　by　the　sight。　He　started　toward　her。
　She　looked　up；　dazed。
　〃I　am　the　key。〃
　She　turned　and　fled。
　Salsbury　ran　to　the　door…but　when　he　got　there；　she　was　already　gone　around　the　corner　of　the　house；　out　of　sight。
　
　PART　TWO：
　Terror
　　
　　
　1
　Friday；　August　26；　1977
　　
　9：45　A。M。
　　
　RYA　SAT　IN　THE　FRONT　SEAT　of　the　station　wagon　between　Paul　and　Jenny；　silent　and　unmoving；　gripped　by　what　appeared　to　be　fear　and　by　anger　as　well。　Her　hands　were　curled　into　solid　little　fists　in　her　lap。　Beneath　her　summer　tan　she　was　ashen。　Fine　beads　of　perspiration　were　strung　along　her　hairline。　She　pressed　her　lips　together　like；　the　halves　of　a　vise；　partly　to　keep　them　from　trembling；　partly　as　a　sign　of　her　extreme　anger；　frustration；　and　determination　to　prove　herself　right。
　Although　she　had　never　lied　to　him　about　anything　serious；　Paul　couldn't　believe　the　story　she　had　told　them　minutes　ago。　She　had　seen　something　odd　at　the　Thorp　house。　He　was　fairly　certain　of　that。　However；　she　had　surely　misinterpreted　what　she　had　seen。　When　she　burst　in　upon　Sam；　Jenny；　and　him　at　the　store；　her　tears　and　horror　had　been　genuine；　of　that　there　was　absolutely　no　doubt。　But　Mark　dead？　Unthinkable。　Beaten　to　death　by　Bob　Thorp；　the　chief　of　police？　Ridiculous。　If　she　wasn't　lying…well；　then　she　was　at　least　terribly　confused。
　〃It's　t…t…true；　Daddy。　It's　true！　I　swear　to　Cod　it's　true。　They　they　k…k…killed　him。　They　did。　Mr。　Thorp　did。　The　other　man　t…told　Mr。　Thorp　to　k…kill；　and　he　did。　He　kept　b…b…banging　Mar