cb.damnationgame-第26部分

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　　Marty　started　calling　them　off　by　name；　using　the　strong；　simple　mands　Lillian　had　taught　him。
　　〃Stand！　Saul！　Stand！　Dido！〃　The　dogs　were　immaculately　tutored：　he'd　seen　them　put　through　these　exercises　a　dozen　times。　Now；　despite　the　intensity　of　their　anger；　they　relinquished　their　victim　when　they　heard　the　mand。　Reluctantly　they　fell　back；　ears　flattened；　teeth　exposed；　eyes　clamped　on　the　man。
　　Marty　started　to　walk　steadily　toward　the　intruder；　who　was　left　standing　in　a　ring　of　watchful　dogs；　reeling　and　bloody。　He　carried　no　visible　weapon；　indeed　he　looked　more　like　a　derelict　than　a　would…be　assassin。　His　plain　dark　jacket　was　torn　in　a　dozen　places　by　the　attack；　and　where　his　skin　was　exposed　blood　shone。
　　〃Keep　them　。　。　。　off　me；〃　he　said；　his　voice　wounded。　There　were　bites　all　over　his　body。　In　some　places；　particularly　his　legs；　pieces　of　his　flesh　had　been　ripped　away。　The　middle　finger　of　his　left　hand　had　been　bitten　through　at　the　second　joint；　and　was　depending　by　a　thread　of　sinew。　Blood　splashed　on　the　grass。　It　amazed　Marty　that　the　man　was　even　standing　upright。
　　The　dogs　still　circled　him；　ready　to　renew　the　assault　if　and　when　the　order　were　granted；　one　or　two　of　them　glanced　at　Marty　impatiently。　They　were　itching　to　finish　their　wounded　victim　off。　But　the　derelict　wouldn't　grant　them　a　sign　of　his　fear。　He　only　had　eyes　for　Marty；　and　those　eyes　were　pinpricks　in　livid　white。
　　〃Don't　move；〃　Marty　said；　〃if　you　want　to　remain　alive。　If　you　try　to　run　they'll　bring　you　down。　Do　you　understand？　I　haven't　got　that　much　control　over　them。〃　The　other　said　nothing；　simply　stared。　His　agony；　Marty　knew；　must　be　acute。　He　wasn't　even　a　young　man。　His　uneven　growth　of　stubble　showed　more　gray　than　black。　The　skull　behind　the　lax　and　waxen　flesh　was　severe；　the　features　set　on　it　used　and　weary：　tragic　even。　His　suffering　was　only　apparent　in　the　greasy　sheen　of　his　skin；　and　the　fixedness　of　his　facial　muscles。　His　stare　had　the　stillness　of　a　hurricane's　eye；　and　its　menace。
　　〃How　did　you　get　in？〃　Marty　asked。
　　〃Get　them　away；〃　the　man　said。　He　spoke　as　if　he　expected　to　be　obeyed。
　　〃e　back　to　the　house　with　me。〃　The　other　shook　his　head；　unwilling　even　to　debate　the　possibility。
　　〃Get　them　away；〃　he　said　again。
　　Marty　conceded　to　the　other's　authority；　though　not　certain　why。　He　called　the　dogs　to　him　by　name。　They　came　to　heel　with　rebuking　looks；　unhappy　to　surrender　their　prize。
　　〃Now　e　back　to　the　house；〃　Marty　said。
　　〃No　need。〃　〃You'll　bleed　to　death；　for　God's　sake。〃　〃I　loathe　dogs；〃　the　man　said；　still　not　taking　his　eyes　off　Marty。　〃We　both　do。〃　Marty　hadn't　time　to　think　clearly　about　what　the　man　was　saying；　he　just　wanted　to　stop　the　situation　from　escalating　again。　Blood　loss　had　surely　weakened　the　man。　If　he　fell　down　Marty　wasn't　certain　he　could　prevent　the　dogs　from　going　in　for　the　kill。　They　were　around　his　legs；　glancing　up　at　him　irritably；　their　breath　was　hot　on　him。
　　〃If　you　don't　e　on　your　own　accord；　I'll　take　you。〃　〃No。〃　The　intruder　raised　his　injured　hand　to　chest　height　and　glanced　down　at　it。　〃I　don't　need　your　kindnesses；　thank　you；〃　he　said。
　　He　bit　down　on　the　sinew　of　the　mutilated　finger；　as　a　seamstress　might　through　a　thread。　The　discarded　joints　fell　to　the　grass。　Then　he　clenched　his　seeping　hand　into　a　fist；　and　thrust　it　into　his　ravaged　jacket。
　　Marty　said：　〃Christ　Almighty。〃　Suddenly　the　lights　along　the　fence　were　flickering　again。　Only　this　time　they　went　out　altogether。　In　the　sudden　pitch；　Saul　whined。　Marty　knew　the　dog's　voice；　and　shared　his　apprehension。
　　〃What's　happening；　boy？〃　he　asked　the　dog；　wishing　to　God　it　could　reply。　And　then　the　dark　broke；　something　lit　the　scene　that　was　neither　electricity　nor　starlight。　The　intruder　was　the　source。　He'd　begun　to　burn　with　a　faint　luminescence。　Light　was　dripping　from　his　fingertips　and　oozing　from　the　bloody　holes　in　his　coat。　It　enveloped　his　head　in　a　flickering　gray　halo　that　consumed　neither　flesh　nor　bone；　the　light　licking　out　of　mouth　and　eyes　and　nostrils。　Now　it　began　to　take　on　shapes；　or　seemed　to。　It　was　all　seems。　Phantoms　sprang　from　the　flux　of　light。　Marty　glimpsed　dogs；　then　a　woman；　then　a　face；　all；　and　yet　perhaps　none　of　these；　a　flurry　of　apparitions　that　transformed　before　they　congealed。　And　in　the　center　of　these　momentary　phenomena　the　intruder's　eyes　stared　on　at　Marty：　clear　and　cold。
　　Then；　without　a　prehensible　cue；　the　entertainment　took　on　a　different　tone　altogether。　A　look　of　anguish　slid　across　the　fabricator's　face；　a　drool　of　bloody　darkness　spilled　from　his　eyes；　extinguishing　whatever　played　in　the　vapor；　leaving　only　bright　worms　of　fire　to　trace　his　skull。　Then　they　too　went　out；　and　just　as　suddenly　as　the　illusions　had　appeared；　they　were　gone；　and　there　was　just　a　torn　man　standing　beside　the　humming　fence。
　　The　lights　were　ing　back　on　again；　their　illumination　so　flat　it　drained　any　last　vestige　of　magic。　Marty　looked　at　the　bland　flesh；　the　empty　eyes；　the　sheer　drabness　of　the　figure　in　front　of　him　and　believed　none　of　it　〃Tell　Joseph；〃　said　the　intruder。
　　…it　had　all　been　trickery　of　some　kind…〃Tell　him　what？〃　〃That　I　was　here。〃　…but　if　it　was　just　trickery；　why　didn't　he　step　forward　and　apprehend　the　man？
　　〃Who　are　you？〃　he　asked。
　　〃Just　tell　him。　〃　Marty　nodded；　he　had　no　courage　left　in　him　〃Then；　go　home。〃　〃Home？〃　〃Away　from　here；〃　the　intruder　said。　〃Out　of　harm's　way。〃　He　turned　from　Marty　and　the　dogs；　and　as　he　did　so　the　lights　faltered　and　failed　for　several　dozen　yards　in　either　direction。
　　When　they　came　back　on　again；　the　magician　had　gone。
　　
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　　〃Is　that　all　he　said？〃　As　ever；　Whitehead　had　his　back　to　Marty　as　he　spoke；　and　it　was　Impossible　to　gauge　his　response　to　the　account　of　the　night's　events。　Marty　had　offered　a　carefully　doctored　description　of　what　had　actually　happened。　He'd　told　Whitehead　about　his　hearing　the　dogs　and　about　the　chase　and　the　brief　conversation　he'd　had　with　the　intruder。　What　he'd　left　out　was　the　part　that　he　couldn't　explain：　the　images　the　man　had　seemingly　conjured　from　his　body。　That　he　made　no　attempt　to　describe；　or　even　report。　He'd　simply　told　the　old　man　that　the　lights　along　the　fence　had　failed　and　that　under　the　cover　of　darkness　the　intruder　had　made　off。　It　made　a　lame　finale　to　the　encounter　but　he　had　no　powers　to　improve　on　his　story。　His　mind；　still　juggling　the　visions　of　the　previous　night；　was　too　uncertain　of　objective　truth　to　contemplate　a　more　elaborate　lie。
　　He　hadn't　slept　for　over　twenty…four　hours　now。　He'd　spent　the　bulk　of　the　night　checking　the　perimeter；　scouring　the　fence　for　the　place　the　intruder　had　breached。　There　was　no　break　in　the　wire；　however。　Either　the　man　had　slipped　into　the　grounds　when　the　gates　were　opened　for　one　of　the　guests〃　cars；　which　was　plausible；　or　else　he　had　scaled　the　fence；　disregarding　an　electric　charge　that　would　have　struck　most　men　dead。　Having　seen　the　tricks　the　man　was　capable　of　Marty　was　not　about　to　discount　this　second　scenario。　After　all；　this　same　man　had　rendered　the　alarms　inoperative…and　somehow　drained　the　lights　of　power　along　the　stretch　of　fence。　How　he'd　achieved　these　feats　was　anybody's　guess。　Certainly　scant　minutes　after　the　man's　disappearance　the　entire　system　was　fully　operational　again：　the　alarms　working　and　the　cameras　functioning　all　around　the　boundary。
　　Once　he'd　checked　the　fences　thoroughly；　he'd　gone　back　into　the　house　and　sat　in　the　kitchen　to　reconstruct　every　detail　of　what　he'd　just　experienced。　About　four　in　the　morning　he'd　heard　the　dinner　party　break　up：　laughter；　the　slamming　of　car　doors。　He'd　made　no　move　to　report　the　break…in　then　and　there。　There　was；　he　reasoned；　no　use　in　souring　Whitehead's　evening。　He　just　sat　and　listened　to　the　noise　of　people　at　the　other　end　of　the　house。　Their　voices　were　incoherent　smears；　as　if　he　were　underground；　and　they　above。　And　while　he　listened；　drained　after　his　adrenaline　high；　memories　of　the　man　at　the　fence　flickered　in　front　of　him。
　　He　told　none　of　this　to　Whitehead。　Just　the　plainest　outline　of　events；　and　those　few　words：　〃Tell　him　that　I　was　here。〃　It　was　enough。
　　〃Was　he　badly　hurt？〃　Whitehead　said；　not　turning　from　the　window。
　　〃He　lost　a　finger；　as　I　said。　And　he　was　bleeding　pretty　badly。〃　〃In　pain；　would　you　say？〃　Marty　hesitated　before　replying。　Pain　was　not　the　word　he　wanted　to　employ；　not　pain　as　he　understood　it。　But　if　he　used　some　other　word；　like　anguish…something　that　hinted　at　the　gulfs　behind　the　glacial　eyes…he　risked　trespass　into　areas　he　was　not　prepared　to　go；　especially　not　with　Whitehead。　He　was　certain　that　if　he　once　let　the　old　man　sense　any　ambivalence；　the　knives　would　be　out。　So　he　replied：　〃Yes。　He　was　in　pain。〃　〃And　you　say　he　bit　the　finger　off？〃　〃Yes。〃　〃Maybe　you'd　look　for　it　later。〃　〃I　have。　I　think　one　of　the　dogs　must　have　taken　it。〃　Did　Whitehead　chuckle　to　himself？　It　sounded　so。
　　〃Don't　you　believe　me？〃　Marty　said；　taking　the　laughter　to　be　at　his　expense。
　　〃Of　course　I　believe　you。　It　was　only　a　matter　of　time　before　he　came。〃　〃You　know　who　he　is？〃　〃Yes。〃　〃Then　you　can　have　him　arrested。〃　Th