pzb.drawingblood-第74章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


idn't　say　them　now；　he　never　would。　〃Tell　me　why　you　hate　me　so　much。　Tell　me　why　I　have　belt　scars　on　my　back　that　haven't　faded　in　five　years。　Tell　me　how　e　I　could　leave　home　and　support　myself　at　fourteen　but　you　couldn't　even　deal　with　your　fucking　life　at　thirty…three！〃
　　He　tensed；　expecting　to　get　slapped。　But　Joe　only　smiled。　It　turned　his　eyes　brilliant　and　dangerous。　〃You　wanna　know　all　that？　Then　take　a　look　at　this。〃
　　Joe　stuck　his　free　hand　into　his　shirt　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　used　condom。　Holding　it　by　the　rim　with　thumb　and　forefinger　as　if　his　own　seed　were　distasteful　to　him；　he　thrust　it　in　Zach's　face。　The　reservoir　tip　was　split　open；　and　a　long　thin　string　of　e　dangled　from　it；　glistening　in　the　purple　light。　The　Bosch　family　heirloom。
　　〃This　is　why　I　hate　you；〃　said　Joe。　〃I　didn't　want　a　kid　any　more　than　you　want　one　right　now。　I　could've　done　anything　with　my　life。　Your　momma　didn't　want　you　because　she　was　scared　of　being　pregnant　and　too　lazy　to　take　care　of　you　once　you　got　there。　But　I　had　a　future；　and　you　killed　it。〃
　　〃BULLSHIT！〃　Zach　felt　his　face　flushing；　his　eyes　burning　with　anger。　〃That's　the　stupidest　thing　I've　ever　heard！　I'm　just　your　excuse　for　being　a　failure。　Nobody　made　you…〃
　　Joe　jammed　the　rubber　between　Zach's　lips　and　deep　into　his　mouth。　The　thing　slithered　over　his　tongue；　squeaked　nastily　against　his　teeth。　Zach　was　so　startled　that　he　almost　sucked　it　right　down　his　throat。　For　a　moment　his　father's　fingers　scrabbled　over　his　tongue；　hard　and　dirty；　then　they　withdrew；　and　there　was　only　the　slimy　feel　of　the　rubber；　its　latex…and…dead…fish　flavor。
　　Zach　felt　bile　rising　in　his　throat。　He　twisted　his　face　away　from　Joe's　hand　and　spat　the　thing　out　on　the　sidewalk　where　it　lay　like　a　severed　skin　in　a　pool　of　spit。　The　taste　of　Joe's　e　still　filled　his　mouth；　like　sulfur　and　salt　and　murdered　dreams。
　　〃Swallow　it；〃　Joe　told　him。　〃It　could　have　been　you。〃
　　Zach　felt　his　mind　beginning　to　drift　away　on　a　thin　tether。　〃This　isn't　happening；〃　he　said。　〃You　aren't　real。〃
　　〃Oh　yeah？〃　said　Joe。　〃Then　I　guess　this　won't　hurt。〃　He　cocked　his　right　arm。　Zach　saw　the　flash　of　a　big　gold　ring　an　instant　before　the　fist　smashed　into　his　face。
　　The　pain　was　like　a　sunburst　exploding　through　his　head。　Zach　inhaled　a　freshet　of　blood。　Behind　his　eyelids　he　saw　a　sudden　flare　of　electric　blue。　He'd　read　that　when　you　saw　that　color；　it　meant　your　brain　had　just　banged　against　the　inside　of　your　skull。
　　Joe　hit　him　again　and　his　lips　smeared　wetly　across　his　teeth；　soft　skin　splitting　and　shredding。　This　made　the　time　Trevor　had　punched　him　look　like　a　love　tap。　Joe　let　go　of　his　arm　and　Zach　crumpled　to　the　sidewalk。　He　couldn't　open　his　eyes；　though　hot　tears　were　searing　them。　He　curled　into　a　fetal　position　and　wrapped　his　arms　around　his　head。　His　father　was　screaming　at　him；　half　sobbing。
　　〃You　goddamn　smartass　BRAT。　Always　thought　you　were　smarter　than　me。　You　and　that　CUNT；　with　your　pretty　faces。　How　pretty　are　you　gonna　be　NOW？　How　smart　are　you　gonna　be　with　your　fuckin'　BRAINS　STOMPED　INTO　THE　SIDEWALK？〃
　　Joe's　boot　connected　with　the　base　of　Zach's　spine；　sent　a　hot　wave　of　pain　up　his　body。　He's　going　to　kill　me；　Zach　thought。　He's　going　to　kick　me　to　death　right　here　in　the　street。　Will　my　body　back　at　the　house　die　too？　Will　Trevor　wake　up　next　to　me　with　my　head　bashed　in　and　think　he　did　it？
　　The　idea　was　unbearable。　Zach　rolled　over；　saw　the　boot　drawing　back　to　kick　him　again；　grabbed　his　father's　ankle　and　yanked　hard。　If　Joe　went　down；　Zach　knew　in　that　instant；　he　wasn't　getting　up　again。　Zach　would　kill　him　if　possible…with　a　bottle　or　a　chunk　of　brick　if　he　could　grab　one；　with　his　bare　hands　if　he　couldn't。　Fuck　not　fighting　back；　all　bets　were　off。
　　But　Joe　didn't　go　down。　Zach　managed　to　throw　him　off　balance　and　he　stumbled；　then　recovered　with　a　great　roar　of　rage　and　drove　the　toe　of　his　boot　into　Zach's　shoulder。　The　muscles　instantly　contracted　into　a　shrieking　knot　of　agony。　Well；　that's　it；　Zach　thought　through　the　pain。　That　was　my　chance　and　I　blew　it　and　now　he's　just　gonna　kill　me　worse。　He　could　already　taste　the　dirty　boot　heel　plowing　into　his　mouth；　his　teeth　splintering；　blood　spraying　over　his　tongue。
　　But　instead　of　stomping　his　face；　Joe　reached　down；　grabbed　Zach's　arm；　and　pulled　him　back　up。　It　was　obvious　that　Joe　would　be　perfectly　willing　to　yank　his　shoulder　out　of　its　socket　if　Zach　resisted。　〃You're　smart　enough　to　get　into　places　but　not　smart　enough　to　know　when　you're　not　wanted；〃　he　hissed　into　Zach's　face。　His　breath　was　scented　with　peppermint　and　rotgut　gin。　〃You're　meddlin'　here　and　I'm　gonna　stop　you。　Don't　fight　me　or　I'll　put　out　one　of　your　eyes。　I　swear　it。〃
　　Zach　believed　him。　He　remembered　a　time　just　before　he　had　left　home　for　good　that　Joe　had　thrown　him　against　the　wall　and　held　a　lighted　cigarette　less　than　an　inch　from　his　right　eye；　threatening　to　burn　it　if　he　blinked。　Evangeline　had　snatched　the　cigarette；　taken　a　slap　across　the　face　that　knocked　her　down；　then　cussed　Zach　to　ribbons　for　having　provoked　his　father　with　some　smartass　remark。　Later　he　had　noticed　that　his　eyelashes　were　singed。
　　Joe　pulled　out　the　poor　man's　weapon　he　had　always　carried　on　the　streets　of　New　Orleans；　a　knotted　sock　half　full　of　pennies。　The　black　wool　was　stiff　with　dried　blood。　He　slapped　it　against　his　palm　thoughtfully；　then　grinned　and　swung　it　around　his　head；　winding　up　for　the　blow。
　　Trevor；　Zach　promised　silently；　if　I　see　you　again…no；　WHEN　I　see　you；　I'm　taking　you　away　to　the　cleanest；　whitest；　bluest；　warmest　beach　you　ever　saw；　and　I'll　buy　you　all　the　paper　and　ink　you　want；　and　we'll　keep　each　other　as　sane　as　we　want　to　be　and　love　each　other　as　long　as　we're　alive。　We'll　let　go　of　our　pasts　and　start　making　our　future。
　　Then　his　father's　slap　plowed　into　his　skull。　Joe　hit　him　so　hard　that　the　sock　split　right　open。　In　the　instant　before　his　mind　went　out；　Zach　saw　its　contents　raining　down　around　his　head；　shimmering；　sparkling。
　　Not　pennies。　Tiny　diamonds。
　　
　　Trevor　kept　following　the　street　he　had　chosen。　It　led　him　deeper　into　the　factories　where　he　wasn't　sure　he　wanted　to　go；　but　there　were　no　cross　streets　anymore；　and　he　would　not　return　the　way　he　had　e。　There　was　nothing　in　those　bars　for　him；　nothing　but　the　bottles　frosted　with　dust　and　filled　with　poison；　nothing　but　Skeletal　Sammy's　crumbling　bones。
　　He　passed　a　shining；　bubbling　pool　of　black　liquid　enclosed　by　a　chain…link　fence；　a　vast　decrepit　building　with　white　steam　billowing　from　hundreds　of　broken　windows；　a　railyard　where　rusty　boxcars　lay　scattered　like　children's　blocks。　There　was　a　weird　toxic　beauty　to　the　landscape。　Like　alien　terrain；　Trevor　thought　at　first；　but　this　desolation　was　peculiarly　human。
　　His　fingers　itched　for　pencil　and　paper。　He　could　actually　feel　the　satisfying　sensation　of　the　graphite　tip　gliding　over　the　page；　the　slight　textured　catch　of　the　paper's　grain；　the　minute　sympathetic　vibration　in　the　bones　of　his　hand。　He　thrust　both　hands　into　his　pockets　and　walked　on。
　　The　street　began　to　curve　away　in　a　strange　perspective；　as　if　the　horizon　line　didn't　quite　mesh　with　the　sky。　He　saw　the　corner　of　another　empty　lot　up　ahead；　then　realized　it　wasn't　empty　after　all　as　the　edge　of　a　building　became　visible；　set　back　farther　from　the　street　than　the　others。　Something　else　was　odd　about　the　building；　and　after　a　moment　Trevor　realized　what。　It　was　made　of　wood。　The　structure　he　saw　was　a　wooden　porch；　here　in　this　industrial　wasteland　of　steel　and　concrete。
　　It　cast　a　flat　black　shadow　on　the　ground；　the　shadow　of　a　peaked　roof　and　spindly　railings；　like　any　of　a　million　porches　on　a　million　rambling　old　farmhouses。　You　saw　them　plenty　driving　around　rural　areas　of　the　South。　You　didn't　see　them　much；　though；　in　the　industrial　sections　of　vast　gray　deserted　cities。
　　A　few　more　steps　and　his　conscious　mind　saw　what　his　back　brain　had　known　all　along。　It　was　the　house　from　Violin　Road；　set　down　stark　and　solid　in　the　middle　of　this　necrophiliac　dreamscape；　the　same　as　it　had　ever　been；　hardly　looking　a　part　of　the　wo