sk.thegunslinger-第4部分

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He　suddenly　became　aware　that　the　room　had　gone　silent　again；　and　he　tasted　thick　tension　in　the　air。　He　turned　around　and　stared　into　the　face　of　the　man　who　had　been　asleep　by　the　door　when　he　entered。　It　was　a　terrible　face。　The　odor　of　the　devil…grass　was　a　rank　miasma。　The　eyes　were　damned；　the　staring；　glaring　eyes　of　those　who　see　but　do　not　see；　eyes　ever　turned　inward　to　the　sterile　hell　of　dreams　beyond　control；　dreams　unleashed；　risen　out　of　the　stinking　swamps　of　the　unconscious。
The　woman　behind　the　bar　made　a　small　moaning　sound。
The　cracked　lips　writhed；　lifted；　revealing　the　green；　mossy　teeth；　and　the　gunslinger　thought：　　He's　not　even　smoking　it　anymore。　He's　chewing　it。　He's　really　chewing　it。
And　on　the　heels　of　that：　　He's　a　dead　man。　He　should　have　been　dead　a　year　ago。
And　on　the　heels　of　that：　　The　man　in　black。
They　stared　at　each　other；　the　gunslinger　and　the　man　who　had　gone　around　the　rim　of　madness。
He　spoke；　and　the　gunslinger；　dumfounded；　heard　himself　addressed　in　the　High　Speech：
〃The　gold　for　a　favor；　gunslinger。　Just　one？　For　a　pretty。〃
The　High　Speech。　For　a　moment　his　mind　refused　to　track　it。　It　had　been　years　　God！　　centuries；　millenniums；　there　was　no　more　High　Speech；　he　was　the　last；　the　last　gunslinger。　The　others　were　Numbed；　he　reached　into　his　breast　pocket　and　produced　a　gold　piece。　The　split；　scrubbed　hand　reached　for　it；　fondled　it；　held　it　up　to　reflect　the　greasy　glare　of　the　kerosene　lamps。　It　threw　off　its　proud　civilized　glow；　golden；　reddish；　bloody。
〃Ahhhhhh。。。　〃An　inarticulate　sound　of　pleasure。　The　old　man　did　a　weaving　turn　and　began　moving　back　to　his　table；　holding　the　coin　at　eye　level；　turning　it；　flashing　it。
The　room　was　emptying　rapidly；　the　batwings　shuffling　madly　back　and　forth。　The　piano　player　closed　the　lid　of　his　instrument　with　a　bang　and　exited　after　the　others　in　long；　ic…opera　strides。
〃Sheb！〃　The　woman　screamed　after　him；　her　voice　an　odd　mixture　of　fear　and　shrewishness；　〃Sheb；　you　e　back　here！　Goddammit！〃
The　old　man；　meanwhile；　had　gone　back　to　his　table。
He　spun　the　gold　piece　on　the　gouged　wood；　and　the　dead…alive　eyes　followed　it　with　empty　fascination。　He　spun　it　a　second　time；　a　third；　and　his　eyelids　drooped。　The　fourth　time；　and　his　head　settled　to　the　wood　before　the　coin　stopped。
〃There；〃　she　said　softly；　furiously。　〃You've　driven　out　my　trade。　Are　you　satisfied？〃
〃They'll　be　back；〃　the　gunslinger　said。
〃Not　tonight　they　won't。〃
〃Who　is　he？〃　He　gestured　at　the　weed…eater。
〃Go　　〃She　pleted　the　mand　by　describing　an　impossible　act　of　masturbation。
〃I　have　to　know；〃　the　gunslinger　said　patiently。　〃He〃
〃He　talked　to　you　funny；〃　she　said。　〃Nort　never　talked　like　that　in　his　life。〃
〃I'm　looking　for　a　man。　You　would　know　him。〃
She　stared　at　him；　the　anger　dying。　It　was　replaced　with　speculation；　then　with　a　high；　wet　gleam　that　he　had　seen　before。　The　rickety　building　ticked　thoughtfully　to　itself。　A　dog　barked　brayingly；　far　away。　The　gunslinger　waited。　She　saw　his　knowledge　and　the　gleam　was　replaced　by　hopelessness；　by　a　dumb　need　that　had　no　mouth。
〃You　know　my　price；〃　she　said。
He　looked　at　her　steadily。　The　scar　would　not　show　in　the　dark。　Her　body　was　lean　enough　so　the　desert　and　grit　and　grind　hadn't　been　able　to　sag　everything。　And　she'd　once　been　pretty；　maybe　even　beautiful。　Not　that　it　mattered。　It　would　not　have　mattered　if　the　grave…beetles　had　nested　in　the　arid　blackness　of　her　womb。　It　had　all　been　written。
Her　hands　came　up　to　her　face　and　there　was　still　some　juice　left　in　her　　enough　to　weep。
〃Don't　look！　You　don't　have　to　look　at　me　so　mean！〃
〃I'm　sorry；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃I　didn't　mean　to　be　mean。〃
〃None　of　you　mean　it！〃　She　cried　at　him。
〃Put　out　the　lights。〃
She　wept；　hands　at　her　face。　He　was　glad　she　had　her　hands　at　her　face。　Not　because　of　the　scar　but　because　it　gave　her　back　her　maidenhood；　if　not　head。　The　pin　that　held　the　strap　of　her　dress　glittered　in　the　greasy　light。
〃Put　out　the　lights　and　lock　up。　Will　he　steal　anything？〃
〃No；〃　she　whispered。
〃Then　put　out　the　lights。〃
She　would　not　remove　her　hands　until　she　was　behind　him　and　she　doused　the　lamps　one　by　one；　turning　down　the　wicks　and　then　breathing　the　flames　into　extinction。　Then　she　took　his　hand　in　the　dark　and　it　was　warm。　She　led　him　upstairs。　There　was　no　light　to　hide　their　act。
　
　
VI
　
　
He　made　cigarettes　in　the　dark；　then　lit　them　and　passed　one　to　her。　The　room　held　her　scent；　fresh　lilac；　pathetic。　The　smell　of　the　desert　had　overlaid　it；　crippled　it。　It　was　like　the　smell　of　the　sea。　He　realized　he　was　afraid　of　the　desert　ahead。
〃His　name　is　Nort；〃　she　said。　No　harshness　had　been　worn　out　of　her　voice。　〃Just　Nort。　He　died。〃
The　gunslinger　waited。
〃He　was　touched　by　God。〃
The　gunslinger　said；　〃I　have　never　seen　Him。〃
〃He　was　here　ever　since　I　can　remember　　Nort；　I　mean；　not　God。〃　She　laughed　jaggedly　into　the　dark。　〃He　had　a　honeywagon　for　a　while。　Started　to　drink。　Started　to　smell　the　grass。　Then　to　smoke　it。　The　kids　started　to　follow　him　around　and　sic　their　dogs　onto　him。　He　wore　old　green　pants　that　stank。　Do　you　understand？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃He　started　to　chew　it。　At　the　last　he　just　sat　in　there　and　didn't　eat　anything。　He　might　have　been　a　king；　in　his　mind。　The　children　might　have　been　his　jesters；　and　the　dogs　his　princes。〃
〃Yes。〃
〃He　died　right　in　front　of　this　place；〃　she　said。　〃He　came　clumping　down　the　boardwalk　　his　boots　wouldn't　wear　out；　they　were　engineer　boots　　with　the　children　and　dogs　behind　him。　He　looked　like　wire　clothes　hangers　all　wrapped　and　twirled　together。　You　could　see　all　the　lights　of　hell　in　his　eyes；　but　he　was　grinning；　just　like　the　grins　the　children　carve　into　their　pumpkins　on　All…Saints　Eve。　You　could　smell　the　dirt　and　the　rot　and　the　weed。　It　was　running　down　from　the　corners　of　his　mouth　like　green　blood。　I　think　he　meant　to　e　in　and　listen　to　Sheb　play　the　piano。　And　right　in　front；　he　stopped　and　cocked　his　head。　I　could　see　him；　and　I　thought　he　heard　a　coach；　although　there　was　none　due。　Then　he　puked；　and　it　was　black　and　full　of　blood。　It　went　right　through　that　grin　like　sewer　water　through　a　grate。　The　stink　was　enough　to　make　you　want　to　run　mad。　He　raised　up　his　arms　and　just　threw　over。　That　was　all。　He　died　with　that　grin　on　his　face；　in　his　own　vomit。〃
She　was　trembling　beside　him。　Outside；　the　wind　kept　up　its　steady　whine；　and　somewhere　far　away　a　door　was　banging；　like　a　sound　heard　in　a　dream。　Mice　ran　in　the　walls。　The　gunslinger　thought　in　the　back　of　his　mind　that　it　was　probably　the　only　place　in　town　prosperous　enough　to　support　mice。　He　put　a　hand　on　her　belly　and　she　started　violently；　then　relaxed。
〃The　man　in　black；〃　he　said。
〃You　have　to　have　it；　don't　you！〃
〃Yes。〃
〃All　right。　I'll　tell　you。〃　She　grasped　his　hand　in　both　of　hers　and　told　him。
　
　
VII
　
　
He　came　in　the　late　afternoon　of　the　day　Nort　died；　and　the　wind　was　whooping　up；　pulling　away　the　loose　topsoil；　sending　sheets　of　grit　and　uprooted　stalks　of　corn　wind　milling　past。　Kennerly　had　padlocked　the　livery；　and　the　other　few　merchants　had　shuttered　their　windows　and　laid　boards　across　the　shutters。　The　sky　was　the　yellow　color　of　old　cheese　and　the　clouds　moved　flyingly　across　it；　as　if　they　had　seen　something　horrifying　in　the　desert　wastes　where　they　had　so　lately　been。
He　came　in　a　rickety　rig　with　a　rippling　tarp　tied　across　its　bed。　They　watched　him　e；　and　old　man　Kennerly；　lying　by　the　window　with　a　bottle　in　one　hand　and　the　loose；　hot　flesh　of　his　second…eldest　daughter's　left　breast　in　the　other；　resolved　not　to　be　there　if　he　should　knock。
But　the　man　in　black　went　by　without　hawing　the　bay　that　pulled　his　rig；　and　the　spinning　wheels　spumed　up　dust　that　the　wind　clutched　eagerly。　He　might　have　been　a　priest　or　a　monk；　he　wore　a　black　cassock　that　had　been　floured　with　dust；　and　a　loose　hood　covered　his　head　and　obscured　his　features。　It　rippled　and　flapped。　Beneath　the　garment's　hem；　heavy　buckled　boots　with　square　toes。
He　pulled　up　in　front　of　Sheb's　and　tethered　the　horse；　which　lowered　its　head　and　grunted　at　the　ground。　Around　the　back　of　the　rig　he　untied　one　flap；　found　a　weathered　saddlebag；　threw　it　over　his　shoulder；　and　went　in　through　the　batwings。
Alice　watched　him　curiously；　but　no　one　else　noticed　his　arrival。　The　rest　were　drunk　as　lords。　Sheb　was　playing　Methodist　hymns　ragtime；　and　the　grizzled　layabouts　who　had　e　in　early　to　avoid　the　storm　and　to　attend　Nort's　wake　had　sung　themselves　hoarse。　Sheb；　drunk　nearly　to　the　point　of　senselessness；　intoxicated　and　horny　with　his　own　continued　existence；　played　with　hectic；　shuttlecock　speed；　fingers　flying　like　looms。
Voices　screeched　and　hollered；　never　overing　the　wind　but　sometimes　seeming　to　challenge　it。　In　the　corner　Zachary　had　thrown　Amy　Feldon's　skirts　over　her　head　and　was　painting　zodiac　signs　on　her　knees。　A　few　other　women　circulated。　A　fervid　glow　seemed　to　be　on　all　of　them。　The　dull　stormglow　that　filtered　through　the　batwings　seemed　to　mock　them；　however。
Nort　had　been　laid　out　on　two　tables　in　the　center　of　the　room。　His　boots　made　a　mystical　V。　His　mouth　hung　open　in　a　slack　grin；　although　someone　had　closed　his　eyes　and　put　slugs　on　them。　His　hands　had　been　folded