dk.intensity-第29节

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　He　doesn't　know　if　she　is　armed　with　a　weapon　of　her　own。　From　the　distance　at　which　he'd　seen　her；　he　hadn't　been　able　to　discern　whether　she　was　empty…handed　or；　equally　important；　whether　she　was　attractive　enough　to　be　a　fun　kill。
　Farther　back；　then；　through　his　narrow　domain；　with　special　caution　at　the　end　of　the　dining　nook；　behind　which　lies　the　step　well。　She's　not　crouched　here　either。
　Into　the　hall。　The　sound　of　the　rain。　The　idling　engine。　He　opens　the　bathroom　door；　quickly　and　noisily；　aware　that　stealth　isn't　possible　in　this　reverberant　tin　can　on　wheels。　The　cramped　bathroom　is　as　it　should　be；　no　stowaway　on　the　pot　or　in　the　shower　stall。
　Next　the　shallow　wardrobe　with　its　sliding　door。　But　she　isn't　in　there　either。
　The　only　place　remaining　to　be　searched　is　the　bedroom。　Vess　stands　before　this　last　closed　door；　positively　enchanted　by　the　thought　of　the　woman　huddled　in　there；　unaware　of　those　with　whom　she　shares　her　hiding　place。
　rht　is　visible　alon　No　thread　of　lig　g　the　threshold　or　the　jamb；　so　she　no　doubt　entered　in　darkness。　Evidently　she　has　not　yet　sat　upon　the　bed　and　found　the　sleeping　beauty。
　Perhaps　she　has　edged　warily　around　the　small　room　and；　by　blind　exploration；　has　discovered　the　folding　door　to　the　closet。　Perhaps　if　Vess　opens　this　bedroom　door；　she　will　simultaneously　pull　aside　those　vinyl　panels　and　attempt　to　slip　swiftly　and　quietly　into　the　closet；　only　to　feel　a　strange　cold　form　hanging　there　instead　of　sport　shirts。
　Mr。　Vess　is　amused。　The　temptation　to　throw　open　the　door　is　almost　irresistible；　to　see　her　carom　off　the　body　in　the　closet；　then　to　the　bed；　then　away　from　the　dead　girl；　screaming　first　at　the　sewn…shut　face　of　the　boy　and　then　at　the　manacled　girl　and　then　at　Vess　himself；　in　a　ic　pinball　spin　of　terror。　Following　that　spectacle；　however；　they　will　have　to　get　down　to　issues　at　once。　He　will　quickly　learn　who　she　is　and　what　she　thinks　she　is　doing　here。
　Mr。　Vess　realizes　that　he　doesn't　want　this　rare　experience　with　mystery　to　end。　He　finds　it　more　pleasing　to　prolong　the　suspense　and　chew　on　the　puzzle　for　a　while。
　He　was　beginning　to　feel　weary　from　his　recent　activities。　Now　he　is　energized　by　these　unexpected　developments。
　Certain　risks　are　involved；　of　course；　in　playing　it　this　way。　But　it　is　impossible　to　live　with　intensity　and　avoid　risk。　Risk　is　at　the　heart　of　an　intense　existence。
　He　backs　quietly　away　from　the　bedroom　door。　Noisily；　he　steps　into　the　bathroom；　takes　a　piss；　and　flushes　the　toilet；　so　the　woman　will　think　that　he　came　to　the　back　of　the　motor　home　not　in　search　of　her　but　to　answer　the　call　of　nature。　If　she　continues　to　believe　that　her　presence　is　unknown；　she　will　proceed　on　whatever　course　of　action　brought　her　here　in　the　first　place；　and　it　will　be　interesting　to　see　what　she　does。
　He　goes　forward　again；　pausing　in　the　kitchen　to　pump　a　cup　of　hot　coffee　from　the　two…quart　thermos　on　the　counter　by　the　cooktop。　He　also　switches　on　a　couple　of　lights　so　he　will　be　able　to　see　the　interior　clearly　in　the　rearview　mirror。
　Behind　the　steering　wheel　once　more；　he　sips　the　coffee。　It　is　hot；　black；　and　bitter；　just　the　way　he　likes　it。　He　secures　the　cup　in　a　holder　bracketed　to　the　dashboard。
　He　tucks　the　pistol　in　the　open　console　box　between　the　seats；　with　the　safeties　off　and　the　butt　up。　He　can　put　his　hand　on　it　in　a　second；　turn　in　his　seat；　shoot　the　woman　before　she　can　get　near　him；　and　still　maintain　control　of　the　motor　home。
　But　he　doesn't　think　that　she　will　try　to　harm　him；　at　least　not　soon。　If　harming　him　was　her　primary　intention；　she　would　have　gone　after　him　already。
　Strange。　〃Why？　What　now？〃　he　says　aloud；　enjoying　the　drama　of　his　peculiar　situation。　〃What　now？　What　next？　Surprise；　surprise。〃
　He　drinks　more　coffee。　The　aroma　reminds　him　of　the　crisp　texture　of　burned　toast。
　Outside；　the　elk　are　gone。　A　night　of　mysteries。　The　mounting　wind　lashes　the　long　fronds　of　the　fems。　Like　evidence　of　violence；　bright　wet　rhododendron　blossoms　spray　through　the　night。
　The　forest　stands　untouched。　The　power　of　time　is　stored　in　those　massive；　dark；　vertical　forms。
　Mr。　Vess　shifts　the　motor　home　out　of　park　and　releases　the　emergency　brake。　Onward。
　After　he　cruises　past　the　damaged　Honda；　he　glances　at　the　rearview　mirror。　The　bedroom　door　remains　closed。　The　woman　is　in　hiding。
　With　the　motor　home　rolling　again；　perhaps　the　stowaway　will　risk　turning　on　a　light　and　will　take　this　opportunity　to　meet　her　roommates。
　Mr。　Vess　smiles。　Of　all　the　expeditions　that　he　has　conducted；　this　is　the　most　interesting　and　exciting。　And　it　isn't　over　yet。
　Chyna　sat　on　the　floor　in　the　darkness。　Her　back　was　against　the　wall。　The　revolver　lay　at　her　side。
　She　was　untouched　and　alive。　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive；〃　she　whispered；　and　this　was　both　a　prayer　and　a　joke。
　Throughout　her　childhood；　she　frequently　prayed　earnestly　for　that　double　blessing…her　virtue　and　her　life…and　her　prayers　were　often　as　rambling　and　incoherent　as　they　were　frantic。　Eventually　she　had　worried　that　God　was　growing　weary　of　her　endless　desperate　pleas　for　deliverance；　that　He　was　sick　of　her　inability　to　take　care　of　herself　and　stay　out　of　trouble；　and　that　He　might　decide　that　she　had　used　up　all　of　the　divine　mercy　allotted　to　her。　God　was　busy；　after　all；　running　the　entire　universe；　watching　over　so　many　drunks　and　fools；　with　the　devil　working　mischief　everywhere；　volcanoes　erupting；　sailors　lost　in　storms；　sparrows　falling。　By　the　time　Chyna　was　ten　or　eleven；　in　consideration　of　God's　hectic　schedule；　she　had　condensed　her　rambling　pleas；　in　times　of　terror；　to　this：　〃God；　this　is　Chyna　Shepherd；　here　in〃…fill　the　blank　with　the　name　of　the　current　place…〃and　I'm　begging　you；　please；　please；　please；　just　let　me　get　through　this　untouched　and　alive。〃　Soon；　realizing　that　God；　being　God；　would　know　precisely　where　she　was；　she　reduced　her　entreaty　further　to：　〃God；　this　is　Chyna　Shepherd。　Please　get　me　through　this　untouched　and　alive。〃　Finally；　certain　that　God　was　exasperatedly　familiar　with　her　panicky　presumptions　on　His　time　and　grace；　she　had　shortened　her　plea　to　a　telegraphic　minimum：　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive。〃　In　crises…under　beds　or　lost　in　closets　behind　concealing　clothes　or　in　cobwebbed　attics　smelling　of　dust　and　raw　wood　or；　once；　flattened　against　the　ground　in　a　mire　of　rat　shit　in　the　crawl　space　under　a　moldering　old　house…she　had　whispered　those　five　words　or　chanted　them　silently；　over　and　over；　indefatigably；　Chyna…Shepherd…untouched…and…alive；　ceaselessly　reciting　them　not　because　she　was　afraid　that　God　might　be　distracted　by　other　business　and　fail　to　hear　her　but　to　remind　herself　that　He　was　out　there；　had　received　her　message；　and　would　take　care　of　her　if　she　was　patient。　And　when　each　crisis　passed；　when　the　black　flood　of　terror　receded；　when　her　stuttering　heart　finally　began　to　speak　each　beat　clearly　and　calmly　again；　she　had　repeated　the　five　words　once　more　but　with　a　different　inflection　than　she　had　used　previously；　not　as　a　plea　for　deliverance　this　time　but　as　a　dutiful　report；　Chyna…Shepherd…untouchedand…alive；　much　as　a　sailor　in　wartime　might　report　to　his　captain　after　the　ship　had　survived　a　vigorous　strafing　by　enemy　planes…〃All　present　and　accounted　for；　sir。〃　She　was　present；　she　was　accounted　for；　and　she　let　God　know　of　her　gratitude　with　the　same　five　words；　figuring　that　He　would　hear　the　difference　in　her　inflection　and　would　understand。　It　had　bee　a　little　joke　with　young　Chyna；　and　sometimes　she　had　even　acpanied　the　report　with　a　salute；　which　seemed　all　rivht　because　she　had　figured　that　God；　being　God；　must　have　a　sense　of　humor。　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive。〃
　This　time；　from　the　motor…home　bedroom；　it　was　simultaneously　a　report　on　her　survival　and　a　fervent　prayer　to　be　spared　from　whatever　brutality　might　be　ing　next。　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive。〃
　As　a　little　girl；　she　had　loathed　her　name…except　when　she　had　been　praying　to　survive。　It　was　frivolous；　a　stupid　misspelling　of　a　real　word；　and　when　other　kids　teased　her　about　it；　she　wasn't　able　to　mount　a　defense。　Considering　that　her　mother　was　called　Anne；　such　a　simple　name；　the　choice　of　Cbyna　seemed　not　merely　frivolous　but　thoughtless　and　even　mean。　During　most　of　the　time　that　Anne　was　pregnant；　she　had　lived　in　a　mune　of　radical　environmentalistsa　cell　of　the　infamous　Earth　Army　who　believed　that　any　degree　of　violence　was　justifiable　in　defense　of　nature。　They　had　spiked　trees　with　the　hope　that　loggers　would　lose　hands　in　accidents　with　power　saws。　They　had　burned　down　two　meat…packing　plants　and　the　hapless　night　watchmen　in　them；　sabotaged　the　construction　equipment　at　new　housing　tracts　that　encroached　upon　the　wilds；　and　killed　a　scientist　at　Stanford　because　they　disapproved　of　his　use　of　animals　in　his　laboratory　experiments。　Influenced　by　these　friends；　Anne　Shepherd　had　considered　many　names　for　her　daughter：　Hyacinth；　Meadow；　Ocean；　Sky；　Snow；　Rain；　Leaf；　Butterfly。。。　By　the　time　she　had　given　birth；　however；　she　had　moved　on　from　the　Earth　Army；　and　she　had　named　Chyna　after　China　because；　as　she　had　once　expl