pzb.drawingblood-第76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！


r　had　anything　to　do　with　it。　Bobby　left　you　out　pletely。　They　all　left　you。　Go　back　to　the　one　person　who　cared　enough　to　stay。
　　Trevor　found　himself　standing　before　the　closed　door　of　his　own　room。　He　felt　as　if　he　were　walking　a　thin　line　between　his　past　and　his　future。　If　he　fell；　he　would　have　neither。　Balance　was　everything。
　　As　if　in　a　dream；　Trevor　saw　his　hand　reaching　out；　his　fingers　closing　on　the　knob。　Very　slowly；　he　opened　the　door。
　　The　man　sitting　on　the　edge　of　the　bed　looked　up。　His　eyes　locked　with　Trevor's；　ice…blue　irises　rimmed　in　black；　pupils　hugely　dilated。　His　gaunt　face　and　his　bare　chest　were　smeared　with　blood。　His　ginger　hair　was　matted　with　it。　In　his　right　hand　he　held　a　rusty　hammer；　its　head　glistening　thick　sticky　red；　its　claw　a　nightmare　of　tangled　blond　hair；　shredded　skin；　pulverized　brain　and　bone。　Slow　rivulets　of　blood　ran　down　the　handle；　coursed　in　dark　veinlike　patterns　over　his　arm。
　　Trevor　was　dimly　aware　of　someone　else　in　the　room；　a　small　still　form　on　the　mattress；　breathing　deeply；　shrouded　in　covers。　But　he　could　not　focus　on　it；　the　membrane　seemed　to　shimmer　and　grow　opaque　at　that　point；　like　a　wrinkle　in　the　fabric　of　this　world。
　　For　a　long；　long　moment　he　and　Bobby　simply　stared　at　each　other。　Their　faces　were　more　alike　than　Trevor　had　remembered。　Then　Bobby's　trance　seemed　to　break　a　little；　and　his　lips　moved。　What　came　out　was　a　broken　whisper；　hoarse　with　whiskey　and　sorrow。　〃Who　are　you？〃
　　〃I'm　your　son。〃
　　〃Didi　and　Rosena…〃
　　〃You　killed　them。　You　know　me；　Bobby。〃　Trevor　advanced　a　few　steps　into　the　room。　〃You　better　know　me。　I　haven't　stopped　thinking　about　you　for　twenty　years。〃
　　〃Oh；　Trev　。　。　。〃　The　hammer　fell　out　of　Bobby's　hand；　landed　with　a　heavy　thunk　on　the　floorboards　less　than　an　inch　from　his　bare　toes；　but　Bobby　didn't　flinch。　Trevor　saw　tears　coursing　down　his　face；　washing　away　some　of　the　blood。　〃Is　it　really　you？〃
　　〃Go　look　in　the　mirror　if　you　don't　believe　me。〃
　　〃No　。。。　no　。。。　I　know　who　you　are。〃　Bobby's　shoulders　slumped。　He　looked　ancient；　desolate。　〃How　old　are　you？　Nineteen？　Twenty？〃
　　〃Twenty…five。〃
　　〃Do　you　still　draw？〃
　　〃Goddammit！〃　Trevor　remembered　the　drift　of　shredded　paper　on　the　mattress；　the　pillow；　their　bodies。　〃You　ought　to　know！〃
　　Very　slowly；　Bobby　shook　his　head。　〃No；　Trev。　I　don't　know　anything　anymore。〃　He　looked　up　again；　and　Trevor　saw　by　the　naked　pain　in　Bobby's　face　that　it　was　true。　A　terrible　suspicion　drifted　like　a　cold　mist　into　his　mind。
　　〃Why　didn't　you　kill　me？〃　Trevor　asked。　He　had　been　waiting　so　long　to　say　those　words。　Now　they　sounded　flat　and　lifeless。
　　Bobby　shrugged　helplessly。　Trevor　recognized　the　gesture；　it　was　one　of　his　own。　〃I　just　kept　sitting　here；〃　Bobby　went　on；　〃looking　at　your　drawings　on　the　wall；　wondering　how　in　hell　I　could　hit　you　with　that　thing；　wondering　how　I　could　bury　that　chunk　of　metal　in　your　sweet；　smart　brain；　thinking　how　easy　they'd　been　pared　to　you。　They　were　like　anatomy　lessons。　The　body　is　a　puzzle　of　flesh　and　blood　and　bone　。　。　。　you　understand？〃
　　Trevor　nodded。　He　thought　of　the　times　he　had　wanted　to　keep　biting　Zach；　to　keep　pulling　and　tearing　at　Zach's　flesh　just　to　see　what　was　under　there。　Then　he　thought　of　fighting　at　the　Boys'　Home；　of　slamming　the　older　kid's　head　against　the　tiles　of　the　shower　stall。　Of　tendrils　of　blood　swirling　through　warm　water。
　　〃And　when　you　kill　the　people　you　love；　you　watch　what　your　hands　are　doing；　you　feel　the　blood　hitting　your　face；　but　all　the　time　you're　thinking　Why　am　I　doing　this？　And　then　you　get　it。　It's　because　you　love　them；　because　you　want　all　their　secrets；　not　just　the　ones　they　decide　to　show　you。　And　after　you　take　them　apart；　you　know　everything。〃
　　〃Then　why　。　。　。〃　Trevor　could　hardly　speak。　It　was　true　what　he　had　suspected　all　along：　Bobby　hadn't　loved　him　enough　to　kill　him。
　　〃Why　did　I　leave　you　out？　Because　I　had　to。　Because　I　sat　here　watching　you　sleep；　thinking　all　that。　And　then　you　came　in；　just　now。
　　〃And　I　can't　do　it；　Trev。　If　I　have　any　talent；　any　gift　left　at　all；　it's　in　you　now。　I　can　kill　them；　I　can　kill　myself；　but　I　can't　kill　that。〃
　　He　picked　up　the　hammer　again；　stood；　and　walked　toward　Trevor。
　　〃Wait！〃　Trevor　put　out　his　hands；　tried　to　touch　Bobby。　Bobby　stopped　just　out　of　reach；　and　his　hands　closed　on　air。　〃Are　you　seeing　。。。　Is　this　。　。　。〃　He　didn't　know　how　to　articulate　what　he　wanted　to　ask。　〃What　about　Birdland？　What　happened　to　it　for　you？〃
　　〃Birdland　is　a　machine　oiled　with　the　blood　of　artists；〃　Bobby　said　dreamily。　His　tone　was　as　detached　as　if　he　were　giving　a　lecture。　He　came　closer；　held　out　the　dripping　hammer。　〃Birdland　is　a　mirror　that　reflects　our　deaths。　Birdland　never　existed。〃
　　〃But　it's　right　outside　that　window！〃　Trevor　yelled。　〃It's　where　I　just　came　from！〃
　　〃Yes；〃　said　Bobby；　〃but　I　stay　in　here。〃
　　He　pressed　the　hammer　into　Trevor's　hand。　Then　he　spread　his　arms　wide　and　wrapped　Trevor　in　an　embrace　that　felt　like　warm　damp　fog。　His　outlines　were　blurring。　His　flesh　was　softening；　melting　into　Trevor's。
　　〃NO！　DON'T　GO！　TELL　ME　WHY　YOU　DID　IT！　TELL　ME！！！〃
　　〃You　don't　really　want　to　know　why；〃　he　heard　Bobby's　voice　say。　〃You　just　want　to　know　what　it　felt　like。〃
　　Trevor　felt　the　viscous　fog　seeping　into　his　bones；　curling　up　in　his　skull；　blotting　out　his　vision。　He　felt　blood　running　down　the　hammer　handle；　coursing　warm　and　sticky　over　his　fingers；　mingling　with　the　blood　from　his　own　scars。　From　the　corner　of　his　eye　he　saw　his　drawings　fluttering　on　the　wall　like　trapped　wings。
　　〃Tell　me；〃　he　whispered。
　　You're　an　artist；　the　voice　whispered　back。　It　was　deep　inside　his　head　now。　Go　find　out　for　yourself；
　　Then　the　world　blinked　out　like　a　blown　bulb。
　　
　　　
　　　Chapter　Twenty　Two
　　
　　Zach　was　plummeting　through　cyberspace。　Imagine；　he　thought　dazedly；　I　never　needed　a　puter　at　all；　you　can　get　here　just　by　drinking　a　cup　of　coffee　and　having　someone　hit　you　in　the　head　hard　enough　to　knock　your　eyeballs　out。
　　He　was　going　faster　and　faster；　at　the　speed　of　light；　of　information；　of　thought。　Beyond　that　there　was　no　consciousness；　no　identity。　There　were　no　federal　spooks；　no　United　States；　no　New　Orleans　or　Missing　Mile；　no　one　named　Zachary　Bosch。　There　was　no　such　thing　as　a　crime；　no　such　thing　as　death。　He　felt　himself　dissolving　into　the　vast　web　of　synapses；　numbers；　bits。　It　was　plex　but　unemotional；　easy　to　understand。　It　was　forting。
　　It　was　so　cold　。　。　。
　　Zach　struggled　against　the　web　in　sudden　panic。　No！　He　didn't　want　to　stay　here　and　be　assimilated　into　cyberspace；　or　Birdland；　or　the　void…whatever　it　was；　he　did　not　want　to　bee　a　small　part　of　a　greater　good　or　evil；　a　streamlined　fragment　of　information　that　meant　nothing　on　its　own。　He　wanted　his　troublesome　individuality；　with　all　its　attendant　difficulties　and　dangers。　He　wanted　his　body　back。　He　wanted　Trevor。
　　With　every　particle　of　will　left　in　him；　Zach　strained　toward　the　waking　world。
　　He　felt　a　cold　electric　flash；　became　aware　of　his　body's　weight　and　the　mattress　under　him；　felt　his　heart　hammering　in　his　chest。　He　was　unfortably　sure　that　it　had　just　started　back　up。　Blood　was　draining　from　his　nasal　cavities　into　his　throat；　nearly　choking　him。　His　head　buzzed　and　throbbed。　His　hands　felt　as　if　someone　had　gone　at　them　with　coarse　sandpaper。
　　Either　everything　he　remembered　had　really　just　happened；　or　this　was　one　intense　motherfucker　of　a　trip。
　　Zach　forced　his　eyes　open　and　saw　Trevor　sitting　on　the　edge　of　the　bed　staring　vacantly　at　the　opposite　wall。　His　tangled；　sweat…soaked　hair　streamed　over　his　naked　shoulders　and　down　his　back。　His　arms　and　hands　were　still　bloody；　but　the　scars　seemed　to　have　closed。
　　Clutched　in　his　right　fist　was　the　hammer；　glistening　with　blood　and　other　matter。　Zach　knew　Trevor　hadn't　hit　him：　if　all　that　gunk　was　his；　he　wouldn't　be　breathing　now。　But　what　had　Trevor　done？　And　what　did　he　think　he　had　done？
　　He　propped　himself　up　on　one　elbow；　felt　his　head　spinning；　his　vision　going　blurry。　He　realized　he　had　lost　his　glasses　somewhere。　〃Trev？〃　he　whispered。