sk.thewastelands-第79节

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　　Jake　stepped　over　the　first　of　the　discolored　stones　and　saw　it　wasn't　really　a　cobblestone　at　all　but　a　metal　plate　which　had　been　rounded　to　look　like　one。　The　second　was　just　ahead　of　it；　cunningly　placed　so　that　if　an　unaware　intruder　happened　to　miss　the　first　one；　he　or　she　would　almost　certainly　step　on　the　second。
　　Go　ahead　and　do　it；　then；　he　thought。　Why　not？　The　gunslinger's　never　going　to　find　you　in　this　maze；　so　go　ahead　and　bring　it　down。　It's　got　to　be　cleaner　than　what　Gasher　and　his　friends　have　got　planned　for　you。　Quicker；　too。
　　His　dusty　moccasin　wavered　in　the　air　above　the　booby…trap。
　　Gasher　hit　him　with　a　fist　in　the　middle　of　the　back；　but　not　hard。　〃Thinkin　about　takin　a　ride　on　the　handsome；　are　you；　my　little　cull？〃　he　asked。　The　laughing　cruelty　in　his　voice　had　been　replaced　by　simple　curiosity。　If　it　was　tinged　with　any　other　emotion；　it　wasn't　fear　but　amusement。　〃Well；　go　ahead；　if　it's　what　yer　mean　to　do；　for　I　have　my　ticket　already。　Only　be　quick　about　it；　gods　blast　your　eyes。〃
　　Jake's　foot　came　down　beyond　the　trigger　of　the　booby…trap。　His　decision　to　live　a　little　longer　was　not　based　on　any　hope　that　Roland　would　find　him；　it　was　just　that　this　was　what　Roland　would　do…go　on　until　someone　made　him　stop；　and　then　a　few　yards　farther　still　if　he　could。
　　If　he　did　it　now；　he　could　take　Gasher　with　him；　but　Gasher　alone　wasn't　sufficient…one　look　was　enough　to　make　it　clear　that　he　was　telling　the　truth　when　he　said　he　was　dying　already。　If　he　went　on；　he　might　have　a　chance　to　take　some　of　the　Gasherman's　friends；　too…maybe　even　the　one　he　called　the　Tick…Tock　Man。
　　If　I'm　going　to　ride　what　he　calls　the　handsome；　Jake　thought；　I'd　just　as　soon　go　with　plenty　of　pany。
　　Roland　would　have　understood。
　　
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　　JAKE　WAS　WRONG　IN　his　assessment　of　the　gunslinger's　ability　to　follow　their　path　through　the　maze；　Jake's　pack　was　only　the　most　obvious　bit　of　sign　they　left　behind　them；　but　Roland　quickly　realized　he　did　not　have　to　pause　to　look　for　sign。　He　only　had　to　follow　Oy。
　　He　paused　at　several　intersecting　passages　nevertheless；　wanting　to　make　sure；　and　each　time　he　did；　Oy　looked　back　and　uttered　his　low；　impatient　bark　that　seemed　to　say；　Hurry　up！　Do　you　want　to　lose　them？　After　the　signs　he　saw…a　track；　a　thread　from　Jake's　shirt；　a　scrap　of　bright　yellow　cloth　from　Gasher's　scarf…had　three　times　confirmed　the　bumbler's　choices；　Roland　simply　followed　Oy。　He　did　not　give　up　look…ing　for　sign；　but　he　quit　making　stops　to　hunt　for　it。　Then　the　drums　started　up；　and　it　was　the　drums…plus　Gasher's　nosiness　about　what　Jake　might　be　carrying…that　saved　Roland's　life　that　afternoon。
　　He　skidded　to　a　halt　in　his　dusty　boots；　and　his　gun　was　in　his　hand　before　he　realized　what　the　sound　was。　When　he　did　realize；　he　dropped　the　revolver　back　into　its　holster　with　an　impatient　grunt。　He　was　about　to　go　on　again　when　his　eye　happened　first　on　Jake's　pack　。　。　。　and　then　on　a　pair　of　faint；　gleaming　streaks　in　midair　just　to　the　left　of　it。　Roland　narrowed　his　eyes　and　made　out　two　thin　wires　which　crisscrossed　at　knee　level　not　three　feet　in　front　of　him。　Oy；　who　was　built　low　to　the　ground；　had　scurried　neatly　through　the　inverted　V　formed　by　the　wires；　but　if　not　for　the　drums　and　spotting　Jake's　castoff　pack；　Roland　would　have　run　right　into　them。　As　his　eyes　moved　upward；　tracing　the　not…quite…random　piles　of　junk　poised　on　either　side　of　the　passageway　at　this　point；　Roland's　mouth　tightened。　It　had　been　a　close　call；　and　only　ka　had　saved　him。
　　Oy　barked　impatiently。
　　Roland　dropped　to　his　belly　and　crawled　beneath　the　wires；　moving　slowly　and　carefully…he　was　bigger　than　either　Jake　or　Gasher；　and　he　realized　a　really　big　man　wouldn't　be　able　to　get　under　here　at　all　without　triggering　the　carefully　prepared　avalanche。　The　drums　pumped　and　thumped　in　his　ears。　I　wonder　if　they've　all　gone　mad；　he　thought。　If　I　had　to　listen　to　that　every　day；　I　think　I　would　have。
　　He　got　to　the　far　side　of　the　wires；　picked　up　the　pack；　and　looked　inside。　Jake's　books　and　a　few　items　of　clothing　were　still　in　there；　so　were　the　treasures　he　had　picked　up　along　the　way…a　rock　which　gleamed　with　yellow　flecks　that　looked　like　gold　but　weren't；　an　arrow…head；　probably　the　leaving　of　the　old　forest　folk；　which　Jake　had　found　in　a　grove　of　trees　the　day　after　his　drawing；　some　coins　from　his　own　world；　his　father's　sunglasses；　a　few　other　things　which　only　a　boy　not　yet　in　his　teens　could　really　love　and　understand。　Things　he　would　want　back　again　。。。　if；　that　was；　Roland　got　to　him　before　Gasher　and　his　friends　could　change　him；　hurt　him　in　ways　that　would　cause　him　to　lose　interest　in　the　innocent　pursuits　and　curiosities　of　pre…adolescent　boyhood。
　　Gasher's　grinning　face　swam　into　Roland's　mind　like　the　face　of　a　demon　or　a　djinni　from　a　bottle：　the　snaggle　teeth；　the　vacant　eyes；　the　mandrus　crawling　over　the　cheeks　and　spreading　beneath　the　stubbly　lines　of　the　jaws。　If　you　hurt　him　。。。　he　thought；　and　then　forced　his　mind　away；　because　that　line　of　thought　was　a　blind　alley。　If　Gasher　hurt　the　boy　（Jake！　his　mind　insisted　fiercely…Not　just　the　boy　but　Jake！　Jake！）；　Roland　would　kill　him；　yes。　But　the　act　would　mean　nothing；　for　Gasher　was　a　dead　man　already。
　　The　gunslinger　lengthened　the　straps　of　the　pack；　marvelling　at　the　clever　buckles　which　made　this　possible；　slipped　it　onto　his　own　back；　and　stood　up　again。　Oy　turned　to　be　off；　but　Roland　called　his　name　and　the　bumbler　looked　back。
　　〃To　me；　Oy。〃　Roland　didn't　know　if　the　bumbler　could　understand　（or　if　he　would　obey　even　if　he　did）；　but　it　would　be　better…safer…if　he　stayed　close。　Where　there　was　one　booby…trap；　there　were　apt　to　be　more。　Next　time　Oy　might　not　be　so　lucky。
　　〃Ake！〃　Oy　barked；　not　moving。　The　bark　was　assertive；　but　Roland　thought　he　saw　more　of　the　truth　about　how　Oy　felt　in　his　eyes：　they　were　dark　with　fear。
　　〃Yes；　but　it's　dangerous；〃　Roland　said。　〃To　me；　Oy。〃
　　Back　the　way　they　had　e；　there　was　a　thud　as　something　heavy　fell；　probably　dislodged　by　the　punishing　vibration　of　the　drums。　Roland　could　now　see　speaker…poles　here　and　there；　poking　out　of　the　wreckage　like　strange　long…necked　animals。
　　Oy　trotted　back　to　him　and　looked　up；　panting。
　　〃Stay　close。〃
　　〃Ake！　Ake…Ake！〃
　　〃Yes。　Jake。〃　He　began　to　run　again；　and　Oy　ran　beside　him；　heeling　as　neatly　as　any　dog　Roland　had　ever　seen。
　　
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　　FOR　EDDIE；　IT　WAS；　as　some　wise　man　had　once　said；　deja　vu　all　over　again：　he　was　running　with　the　wheelchair；　racing　time。　The　beach　had　been　replaced　by　The　Street　of　the　Turtle；　but　somehow　everything　else　was　the　same。　Oh；　there　was　one　other　relevant　difference：　now　it　was　a　railway　station　（or　a　cradle）　he　was　looking　for；　not　a　free…standing　door。
　　Susannah　was　sitting　bolt　upright　with　her　hair　blowing　out　behind　her　and　Roland's　revolver　in　her　right　hand；　its　barrel　pointed　up　at　the　cloudy；　troubled　sky。　The　drums　thudded　and　pounded；　bludgeoning　them　with　sound。　A　gigantic；　dish…shaped　object　lay　in　the　street　just　ahead；　and　Eddie's　overstrained　mind；　perhaps　cued　by　the　classical　buildings　on　either　side　of　them；　produced　an　image　of　Jove　and　Thor　playing　Frisbee。　Jove　throws　one　wide　and　Thor　lets　it　fall　through　a　cloud…what　the　hell；　it's　Miller　Time　on　Olympus；　anyway。
　　Frisbees　of　the　gods；　he　thought；　swerving　Susannah　between　two　crumbling；　rusty　cars；　what　a　concept。
　　He　bumped　the　chair　up　on　the　sidewalk　to　get　around　the　artifact；　which　looked　like　some　sort　of　telemunications　dish　now　that　he　was　really　close　to　it。　He　was　easing　the　wheelchair　over　the　curb　and　back　into　the　street　again…the　sidewalk　was　too　littered　with　crap　to　make　any　real　time…when　the　drums　suddenly　cut　out。　The　echoes　rolled　away　into　a　new　silence；　except　it　wasn't　really　silent　at　all；　Eddie　realized。　Up　ahead；　the　arched　entrance　to　a　marble　building　stood　at　the　intersection　of　The　Street　of　the　Turtle　and　another　avenue。　This　building　had　been　overgrown　by　vines　and　some　straggly　green　stuff　that　looked　like　cypress　beards；　but　it　was　still　magnificent　and　somehow　dignified。　Beyond　it；　around　the　corner；　a　crowd　was　babbling　excitedly。
　　〃Don't　stop！〃　Susannah　snapped。　〃We　haven't　got　time　to…〃
　　A　hysterical　shriek　drilled　through　the　babble。　It　was　acpanied　by　yells　of　approval；　and；　incredibly；　the　sort　of　applause　Eddie　had　heard　in　Atlantic　City　hotel…casinos　after　some　lounge　act　had　finished　doing　its　thing。　The　shriek　was　choked　into　a　long；　dying　gargle　that　sounded　like　the　buzz　of　a　cicada。　Eddie　felt　the　hair　on　the　nape　of　his　neck　ing　to　attention。　He　glanced　at　the　corpses　hanging　from　the　nearest　speaker…pole　and　understood　that　the　fun…loving　Pubes　of　Lud　were　hold…ing　another　public　execution。
　　Marvellous；　he　thought。　Now　if　they　only　had　Tony　Orlando　and　Dawn　to　sing　〃Knock　Three　Times；〃　they　could　all　die　happy。
　　Eddie　looked　curiously　at　the　stone　pile　on　the　corner。　This　close；　the　vines　which　overgrew　it　had　a　powerful　herbal　smell。　That　smell　was　eye…wateringly　bitter；　but　he　still　liked　it　better　than　the　cinnamon…sweet　odor　of　the　mummified　corpses。　The　beards　of　greenery　growing　from