sk.thegunslinger-第12章

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nd　going　glare　blind。　He　shook　his　head　and　began　to　walk　again。　The　rhyme　circled　and　buzzed。　About　an　hour　later　he　fell　down　and　skinned　his　hands。　He　looked　at　the　tiny　beads　of　blood　on　his　flaked　skin　with　unbelief。　The　blood　looked　no　thinner；　it　looked　mutely　viable。　It　seemed　almost　as　smug　as　the　desert　He　dashed　the　drops　away；　haling　them　blindly。　Smug？　Why　not？　The　blood　was　not　thirsty。　The　blood　was　being　served。　The　blood　was　being　made　sacrifice　unto。　Blood　sacrifice。　All　the　blood　needed　to　do　was　run。。。　and　run。。；　and　run。
He　looked　at　the　splotches　that　had　landed　on　the　hard…pan　and　watched　as　they　were　sucked　up　with　uncanny　suddenness。　How　do　you　like　that；　blood？　How　does　that　grab　you？
O　Jesus；　you're　far　gone。
He　got　up；　holding　his　hands　to　his　chest　and　the　thing　he　had　seen　earlier　was　almost　in　front　of　him；　startling　a　cry　out　of　him　　a　dust…choked　crow…croak。　It　was　a　building。　No；　two　buildings；　surrounded　by　a　fallen　rail　fence。　The　wood　seemed　old；　fragile　to　the　point　of　elvishness；　it　was　wood　being　transmogrified　into　sand。　One　of　the　buildings　had　been　a　stable　　the　shape　was　clear　and　unmistakable。　The　other　was　a　house；　or　an　inn。　A　way　station　for　the　coach　line。　The　tottering　sand…house　（the　wind　had　crusted　the　wood　with　grit　until　it　looked　like　a　sand　castle　that　the　sun　had　beat　upon　at　low　tide　and　hardened　to　a　temporary　abode）　cast　a　thin　line　of　shadow；　and　someone　sat　in　the　shadow；　leaning　against　the　building。　And　the　building　seemed　to　lean　with　the　burden　of　his　weight
Him；　then。　At　last　The　man　in　black。
The　gunslinger　stood　with　his　hands　to　his　chest；　unaware　of　his　declamatory　posture；　and　gawped。　And　instead　of　the　tremendous　winging　excitement　he　had　expected　（or　perhaps　fear；　or　awe）；　there　was　nothing　but　the　dim；　atavistic　guilt　for　the　sudden；　raging　hate　of　his　own　blood　moments　earlier　and　the　endless　ring…a…rosy　of　the　childhood　song：
。。。　the　rain　in　Spain。。。
He　moved　forward；　drawing　one　gun。
。。。　falls　mainly　on　the　plain。
He　came　the　last　quarter　mile　at　the　run；　not　trying　to　hide　himself；　there　was　nothing　to　hide　behind。　His　short　shadow　raced　him。　He　was　not　aware　that　his　face　had　bee　a　gray　and　grinning　death　mask　of　exhaustion；　he　was　aware　of　nothing　but　the　figure　in　the　shadow。　It　did　not　occur　to　him　until　later　that　the　figure　might　even　have　been　dead。
He　kicked　through　one　of　the　leaning　fence　rails　（it　broke　in　two　without　a　sound；　almost　apologetically）　and　lunged　across　the　dazzled　and　silent　stable　yard；　bringing　the　gun　up。
〃You're　covered！　You're　covered！　You're　〃
The　figure　moved　restlessly　and　stood　up。　The　gunslinger　thought：　My　God；　he　is　worn　away　to　nothing；　what's　happened　to　him？　Because　the　man　in　black　had　shrunk　two　full　feet　and　his　hair　had　gone　white。
He　paused；　struck　dumb；　his　head　buzzing　tunelessly。　His　heart　was　racing　at　a　lunatic　rate　and　he　thought；　I'm　dying　right　here　He　sucked　the　white…hot　air　into　his　lungs　and　hung　his　head　for　a　moment　When　he　raised　it　again；　he　saw　it　wasn't　the　man　in　black　but　a　small　boy　with　sun…bleached　hair；　regarding　him　with　eyes　that　did　not　even　seem　interested。　The　gunslinger　stared　at　him　blankly　and　then　shook　his　head　in　negation。　But　the　boy　survived　his　refusal　to　believe；　he　was　still　there；　wearing　blue　jeans　with　a　patch　on　one　knee　and　a　plain　brown　shirt　of　rough　weave。
The　gunslinger　shook　his　head　again　and　started　for　the　stable　with　his　head　lowered；　gun　still　in　hand。　He　couldn't　think　yet　His　head　was　filled　with　motes　and　there　was　a　huge；　thrumming　ache　building　in　it
The　inside　of　the　stable　was　silent　and　dark　and　exploding　with　heat　The　gunslinger　stared　around　himself　with　huge；　floating　walleyes。　He　made　a　drunken　about…face　and　saw　the　boy　standing　in　the　ruined　doorway；　staring　at　him。　A　huge　lancet　of　pain　slipped　dreamily　into　his　head；　cutting　from　temple　to　temple；　dividing　his　brain　like　an　orange。　He　reholstered　his　gun；　swayed；　put　out　his　hands　as　if　to　ward　off　phantoms；　and　fell　over　on　his　face。
When　he　woke　up；　he　was　on　his　back；　and　there　was　a　pile　of　light；　odorless　hay　beneath　his　head。　The　boy　had　not　been　able　to　move　him；　but　he　had　made　him　reasonably　fortable。　And　he　was　cool。　He　looked　down　at　himself　and　saw　that　his　shirt　was　dark　with　moisture。　He　licked　at　his　face　and　tasted　water。　He　blinked　at　it
The　boy　was　hunkered　down　beside　him。　When　he　saw　the　gunslinger's　eyes　were　open；　he　reached　behind　him　and　gave　the　gunslinger　a　dented　tin　can　filled　with　water。　He　grasped　it　with　trembling　hands　and　allowed　himself　to　drink　a　little　　just　a　little。　When　that　was　down　and　sitting　in　his　belly；　he　drank　a　little　more。　Then　he　spilled　the　rest　over　his　face　and　made　shocked　blowing　noises。　The　boy's　pretty　lips　curved　in　a　solemn　little　smile。
〃Want　something　to　eat？〃
〃Not　yet；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　There　was　still　a　sick　ache　in　his　head　from　the　sunstroke；　and　the　water　sat　uneasily　in　his　stomach；　as　if　it　did　not　know　where　to　go。　〃Who　are　you？〃
〃My　name　is　John　Chambers。　You　can　call　me　Jake。〃
The　gunslinger　sat　up；　and　the　sick　ache　became　hard　and　immediate。　He　leaned　forward　and　lost　a　brief　struggle　with　his　stomach。
〃There's　more；〃　Jake　said。　He　took　the　can　and　walked　toward　the　rear　of　the　stable。　He　paused　and　smiled　back　at　the　gunslinger　uncertainly。　The　gunslinger　nodded　at　him　and　then　put　his　head　down　and　propped　it　with　his　hands。　The　boy　was　well…made；　handsome；　perhaps　nine。　There　had　been　a　shadow　on　his　face；　but　there　were　shadows　on　all　faces　now。
A　strange；　thumping　hum　began　at　the　rear　of　the　stable；　and　the　gunslinger　raised　his　head　alertly；　hands　going　to　gunbutts。　The　sound　lasted　for　perhaps　fifteen　seconds　and　then　quit。　The　boy　came　back　with　the　can　　filled　now。
The　gunslinger　drank　sparingly　again；　and　this　time　it　was　a　little　better。　The　ache　in　his　head　was　fading。
〃I　didn't　know　what　to　do　with　you　when　you　fell　down；〃　Jake　said。　〃For　a　couple　of　seconds　there；　I　thought　you　were　going　to　shoot　me。〃
〃I　thought　you　were　somebody　else。〃
〃The　priest？〃
The　gunslinger　looked　up　sharply。　〃What　priest？〃
The　boy　looked　at　him；　frowning　lightly。　〃The　priest　He　camped　in　the　yard。　I　was　in　the　house　over　there。　I　didn't　like　him；　so　I　didn't　e　out　He　came　in　the　night　and　went　on　the　next　day。　I　would　have　hidden　from　you；　but　I　was　sleepin'　when　you　came。〃　He　looked　darkly　over　the　gunslinger's　head。　〃I　don't　like　people。　They　fuck　me　up。〃
〃What　did　the　priest　look　like？〃
The　boy　shrugged。　〃Like　a　priest。　He　was　wearing　black　things。〃
〃Like　a　hood　and　a　cassock？〃
〃What's　a　cassock？〃
〃A　robe。〃
The　boy　nodded。　〃A　robe　and　a　hood。〃
The　gunslinger　leaned　forward；　and　something　in　his　face　made　the　boy　recoil　a　little。　〃How　long　ago？〃
〃I　　I　　〃
Patiently；　the　gunslinger　said；　〃I'm　not　going　to　hurt　you。〃
〃I　don't　know。　I　can't　remember　time。　Every　day　is　the　same。〃
For　the　first　time　the　gunslinger　wondered　consciously　how　the　boy　had　e　to　this　place；　with　dry　and　man…killing　leagues　of　desert　all　around　it。　But　he　would　not　make　it　his　concern；　not　yet；　at　least。　〃Make　a　guess。　Long　ago？〃
〃No。　Not　long。　I　haven't　been　here　long。〃
The　fire　lit　in　him　again。　He　grabbed　the　can　and　drank　from　it　with　hands　that　trembled　the　smallest　bit。　A　snatch　of　the　cradle　song　recurred；　but　this　time；　instead　of　his　mother's　face；　he　saw　the　scarred　face　of　Alice；　who　had　been　his　woman　in　the　now…defunct　town　of　Tull。　〃How　long？　A　week？　Two？　three？〃
The　boy　looked　at　him　distractedly。　〃Yes。〃
〃Which　one？〃
〃A　week。　Or　two。　I　didn't　e　out。　He　didn't　even　drink。　I　thought　he　might　be　the　ghost　of　a　priest　I　was　scared。　I've　been　scared　almost　all　the　time。〃　His　face　quivered　like　crystal　on　the　edge　of　the　ultimate；　destructive　high　note。　〃He　didn't　even　build　a　fire。　He　just　sat　there。　I　don't　even　know　if　he　went　to　sleep。〃
Close！　He　was　closer　than　he　had　ever　been。　In　spite　of　his　extreme　dehydration；　his　hands　felt　faintly　moist；　greasy。
〃There's　some　dried　meat；〃　the　boy　said。
〃All　right〃　The　gunslinger　nodded。　〃Good。〃
The　boy　got　up　to　fetch　it；　his　knees　popping　slightly。　He　made　a　fine　straight　figure。　The　desert　had　not　yet　sapped　him。　His　arms　were　thin；　but　the　skin；　al