cb.imajica2-第47节

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ngside。　Even　the　hardiest　of　them　backed　away　a　few　paces；　their　drugged；　drunken；　or　simply　addled　minds　dimly　aware　that　something　far　worse　than　bloodletting　was　imminent。
　Tolland　turned　on　the　Gentile；　reaching　into　his　jacket　as　he　did　so。　A　knife　emerged；　its　nine…inch　blade　marked　with　nicks　and　scratches。　At　the　sight　of　it；　even　Irish　retreated。　He'd　seen　Tolland's　blade　at　work　only　once　before；　but　it　was　enough。
　There　were　no　jabs　or　taunts　now；　just　Tolland's　drink…rotted　bulk　lurking　towards　his　victim　to　bring　the　man　down。　The　Gentile　stepped　back　as　the　knife　came；　his　eyes　going　to　the　designs　underfoot。　They　were　like　the　pictures　that　filled　his　head　to　overflowing；　brightnesses　that　had　been　smeared　into　gray　dust。　But　somewhere　in　the　midst　of　that　dust　he　remembered　another　place　like　this：　a　makeshift　town；　full　of　filth　and　rage；　where　somebody　or　something　had　e　for　his　life　as　this　man　was　ing；　except　that　this　other　executioner　had　carried　a　fire　in　his　head；　to　burn　the　flesh　away；　and　all　that　he；　the　Gentile；　had　owned　by　way　of　defense　was　empty　hands。
　He　raised　them　now。　They　were　as　marked　as　the　knife　the　executioner　was　carrying；　their　backs　bloodied　from　his　attempt　to　stem　the　flow　from　his　nose。　He　uncurled　them；　as　he'd　done　many　times　before；　drawing　breath　as　he　chose　his　right　over　his　left　and；　without　understanding　why；　put　it　to　his　mouth。
　The　pneuma　flew　before　Tolland　had　time　to　raise　his　blade；　hitting　him　on　the　shoulder　with　such　force　he　was　thrown　to　the　ground。　Shock　took　his　voice　away　for　several　seconds；　then　his　hand　went　to　his　gushing　shoulder　and　he　loosed　a　noise　more　shriek　than　roar。　The　few　witnesses　who'd　remained　to　watch　the　killing　were　rooted　to　the　spot；　their　eyes　not　on　their　fallen　lord　but　on　his　deposer。　Later；　when　they　told　this　story；　they'd　all　describe　what　they'd　seen　in　different　ways。　Some　would　talk　of　a　knife　produced　from　hiding；　used；　and　concealed　again　so　fast　the　eye　could　barely　catch　it。　Others　of　a　bullet；　spat　from　between　the　Gentile's　teeth。　But　nobody　doubted　that　something　remarkable　had　taken　place　in　these　seconds。　A　wonder　worker　had　appeared　among　them　and　laid　the　tyrant　Tolland　low　without　even　touching　him。
　The　wounded　man　wasn't　bested　so　easily；　however。　Though　his　blade　had　gone　from　his　fingers　（and　been　surreptitiously　swiped　by　Monday）　he　still　had　his　tribe　to　defend　him。　He　summoned　them　now；　with　wild　screeches　of　rage。
　〃See　what　he　did？　What　are　you　fuckin'　waitin'　for？　Take　him！　Take　the　fucker！　No　one　does　that　to　me！　Irish？　Irish？　Where　the　fuck　are　you？　Somebody　help　me！〃
　It　was　the　woman　who　came　to　his　aid；　but　he　pushed　her　aside。
　〃Where　the　fuck's　Irish？〃
　〃I'm　here。〃
　〃Take　hold　of　the　bastard；〃　Tolland　said。
　Irish　didn't　move。
　〃D'you　hear　me？　He　used　some　fuckin'　Jew…boy　trick　on　me！　You　saw　him。　Some　yid　trick；　it　was。〃
　〃I　saw　him；〃　said　Irish。
　〃He'll　do　it　again！　He'll　do　it　to　you！〃
　〃I　don't　think　he's　goin'　to　do　anything　to　anybody。〃
　〃Then　break　his　fuckin'　head。〃
　〃You　can　do　it　if　you　like；〃　Irish　said。　〃I'm　not　touching　him。〃
　Despite　his　wounding　and　his　bulk；　Tolland　was　up　on　his　feet　in　seconds；　and　going　at　his　sometime　lieutenant　like　a　bull；　but　the　Gentile's　hand　was　on　his　shoulder　before　his　fingers　could　get　to　the　man's　throat。　He　stopped　in　his　tracks；　and　the　spectators　had　sight　of　the　day's　second　wonder：　fear　on　Tolland's　face。　There'd　be　no　ambiguity　in　their　reports　of　this。　When　word　went　out　across　the　city…as　it　did　within　the　hour；　passed　from　one　asylum　Tolland　had　spoiled　with　blood　to　another…the　account；　though　embroidered　in　the　telling；　was　at　root　the　same。　Drool　had　run　from　Tolland's　mouth；　it　said；　and　his　face　had　got　sweaty。　Some　said　piss　ran　from　the　bottom　of　his　trousers　and　filled　his　boots。
　〃Let　Irish　alone；〃　the　Gentile　told　him。　〃In　fact　。。。let　us　all　alone。〃
　Tolland　made　no　reply。　He　simply　looked　at　the　hand　laid　on　him　and　seemed　to　shrink。　It　wasn't　his　wounding　that　made　him　so　quiescent；　or　even　fear　of　the　Gentile　attacking　a　second　time。　He'd　sustained　injuries　far　worse　than　the　wound　on　his　shoulder　and　simply　been　inflamed　to　fresh　cruelties。　It　was　the　touch　he　shrank　from：　the　Gentile's　hand　laid　lightly　on　his　shoulder。　He　turned　and　backed　away　from　his　wounder；　glancing　from　side　to　side　as　he　did　so；　in　the　hope　that　there　would　be　somebody　to　support　him。　But　everyone；　including　Irish　and　Carol；　gave　him　a　wide　berth。
　〃You　can't　do　this；〃　he　said　when　he'd　put　five　yards　between　himself　and　the　Gentile。　〃I've　got　friends　all　over！　Ill　see　you　dead；　fucker。　I　will。　I'll　see　you　dead！〃
　The　Gentile　simply　turned　his　back　on　this　and　stooped　to　claim　from　the　ground　the　scattered　shards　of　Monday's　chalks。　This　casual　gesture　was　in　its　way　more　eloquent　than　any　counter…threat　or　show　of　power；　announcing　as　it　did　his　plete　indifference　to　the　other　man's　presence。　Tolland　stared　at　the　Gentile's　bent　back　for　several　seconds；　as　if　calculating　the　risk　of　mounting　another　attack。　Then；　calculations　made；　he　turned　and　fled。
　〃He's　gone；〃　said　Monday；　who　was　crouching　beside　the　Gentile　and　watching　over　his　shoulder。
　〃Do　you　have　any　more　of　these？〃　the　stranger　said；　rocking　the　colors　in　the　cradle　of　his　palm。
　〃No。　But　I　can　get　some。　Do　you　draw？〃
　The　Gentile　stood　up。　〃Sometimes；〃　he　said。
　〃Do　you　copy　stuff；　like　me？〃
　〃I　don't　remember。〃
　〃I　can　teach　you；　if　you　want。〃
　〃No；〃　the　Gentile　replied。　〃I'll　copy　from　my　head。〃　He　looked　down　at　the　crayons　in　his　hand。　〃I　can　empty　it　that　way。〃
　〃Could　you　be　doin'　with　paint　as　well？〃　Irish　asked；　as　the　Gentile's　gaze　went　to　the　gray　concrete　all　around　them。
　〃You　could　get　paint？〃
　〃Me　and　Carol　here；　we　can　get　anything。　Whatever　you　want；　Gentile；　we'll　get　it　for　you。〃
　〃Then　。。。　I　want　all　the　colors　you　can　find。〃　〃Is　that　all？　You　don't　want　something　to　drink？〃　But　the　Gentile　didn't　reply。　He　was　wandering　towards　the　pillar　against　which　Tolland　had　first　pinned　him　and　was　applying　a　color　to　it。　The　chalk'in　his　fingers　was　yellow；　and　with　it　he　began　to　draw　the　circle　of　the　sun。
　
　When　Jude　woke　it　was　almost　noon：　eleven　hours　or　more　since　Gentle　had　e　home；　relieved　her　of　the　egg　that　had　brought　her　a　glimpse　of　Nirvana；　then　headed　out　again　into　the　night。　She　felt　sluggish　and　pained　by　the　light。　Even　when　she　turned　the　hot　water　in　her　shower　to　a　trickle　and　let　it　run　near　cold；　it　failed　to　fully　waken　her。　She　toweled　herself　half　dry　and　padded　through　to　the　kitchen　naked。　The　window　was　open　there；　and　the　breeze　brought　goose　bumps。　At　least　this　was　some　sign　of　life；　she　thought；　negligible　though　it　was。
　She　put　on　some　coffee　and　the　television；　flipping　the　channels　from　one　banality　to　another；　then　letting　it　burble　along　with　the　percolator　while　she　dressed。　The　telephone　rang　while　she　was　looking　for　her　second　shoe。　There　was　a　din　of　traffic　at　the　other　end　of　the　line；　but　no　voice；　and　after　a　couple　of　seconds　the　line　went　dead。　She　put　down　the　receiver　and　stayed　by　the　phone；　wondering　if　this　was　Gentle　trying　to　get　through。　Thirty　seconds　later　the　phone　rang　again。　This　time　there　was　a　speaker：　a　man；　whose　voice　was　barely　more　than　a　ragged　whisper。
　〃For　Christ's　sake　。。。〃
　〃Who　is　this？〃
　〃Oh；　Judith　。。。　God；　God。。。　Judith？　。。。　It's　Oscar。。。。〃
　〃Where　are　you？〃　she　said。　He　was　very　clearly　not　locked　up　in　his　house。
　〃They're　dead；　Judith。〃
　〃Who　are？〃
　〃Now　it's　me。　Now　it　wants　me。〃
　〃I'm　not　getting　this；　Oscar。　Who's　dead？〃　〃Help　me。。。　you've　got　to　help　me。。。。　Nowhere's　safe。〃　〃e　to　the　Hat　then。〃　〃No　。。。　you　e　here。。。。〃　〃Where's　here？〃
　〃I'm　at　St。　Martin…in…the…Fields。　Do　you　know　it？〃　〃What　the　hell　are　you　doing　there？〃　〃I'll　be　waiting　inside。　But　hurry。　It's　going　to　find　me。　It's　going　to　find　me。〃
　The　traffic　around　the　square　was　locked；　as　was　often　the　case　at　noon；　the　breeze　that　had　brought　gooseflesh　an　hour　before　too　meek　to　disperse　the　fog　of　countless　exhausts　and　the　fumes　of　as　many　frustrated　drivers。　Nor　was　the　air　inside　the　church　any　less　stale；　though　it　was　pure　ozone　beside　the　smell　of　fear　that　came　off　the　man　sitting　close　to　the　altar；　his　thick　hands　knitted　so　tightly　the　bone　of　his　knuckles　showed　through　the　fat。
　〃I　thought　you　said　you　weren't　going　to　leave　the　house；〃　she　reminded　him。
　〃Something　came　for　me；〃　Oscar　said；　his　eyes　wide。　〃In　the　middle　of　the　night。　It　tried　to　get　in；　but　it　couldn't。　Then　this　morning…in　broad　daylight…I　heard　the　。parrots　kicking　up　a　din；　and　the　back　door　was　blown　off　its　hinges。〃
　〃Did　you　see　what　it　was？〃
　〃Do　you　think　I'd　be　here　if　I　had？　No；　I　was　ready；　after　the　first　time。　As　soon　as　I　heard　the　birds　I　ran　for　the　front　door。　Then　this　terrible　din；　and　all　the　lights　went　out。。。。〃
　He　divided　his　hands　and　took　light　hold　of　her　arm。
　〃What　am　I　going　to　do？〃　he　said。　〃It'll　find　me；　sooner　or　later。　It's　killed　all　the　rest　of　them…〃
　〃Who？〃
　〃Haven't　you　seen　the　headlines？　They're　all　dead。　Lionel；　McGann；　Bloxham。　Even　the　ladies。　Shales　was　in　his　bed。　Cut　up　in　pieces　in　his　own　bed；