cb.coldheart canyon-第57章

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This　was　an　almost…bracing　cold：　like　a　late　autumn　night　in　his　home　town　of　Chicago。　He　went　down　the　little　corridor　that　led　from　the　bottom　of　the　stairs；　at　the　end　of　which　was　the　noisy　door　which　had　brought　him　down　here。　What　the　hell　was　making　it　open　and　close　that　way？
　 He　felt　the　answer　on　his　face　the　closer　he　got　to　the　door。　There　was　a　wind　blowing　down　here；　unlikely　as　that　seemed　and　it　smelled　not　of　small；　mildewed　rooms；　but　of　wide　green　spaces。
　 For　the　second　time　in　this　journey；　Marco　said：　〃Huh。〃
　 He　pushed　open　the　door。　There　was　plete　darkness　on　the　other　side；　but　it　was　a　high；　wide　darkness；　his　gut　told　him；　and　the　wind　that　gusted　against　him　came…though　this　was　beyond　reason…across　a　stretch　of　open　land。
　 He　wished　he　hadn't　drunk　the　whiskies　now。　Wished　he　had　his　senses　pletely　under　his　control；　so　that　he　could　assess　this　phenomenon　clearly。
　 He　put　his　hand　around　the　corner　of　the　door；　looking　for　a　light　switch。　There　wasn't　one；　or　at　least　there　wasn't　one　his　fingers　could　find。　Never　mind。　This　would　be　a　mystery　for　tomorrow。　For　now　he'd　just　close　the　door　and　go　back　to　his　drinking。
　 He　reached　in　and　caught　hold　of　the　doorhandle。　As　he　clasped　it　there　was　a　flicker　of　light　in　the　depths　of　the　room。　No；　not　of　light；　of　lightning：　a　fragmentary　flicker　which　was　followed　by　three　much　longer　flashes；　in　such　quick　succession　they　were　almost　a　single　flash。
　 By　it；　he　saw　the　space　from　which　the　wind　came；　and　had　his　instincts　confirmed。　Wide　it　was；　and　high。　The　thunderhead　which　spat　the　lightning　was　miles　away；　across　a　landscape　of　forest　and　rock。
　 〃Oh；　Jesus。〃　Marco　said。
　 He　reached　out　for　the　doorhandle；　caught　hold　of　it；　and　slammed　the　door　closed。　There　was　a　lock；　but　no　key。　Still；　it　seemed　firmly　enough　closed；　at　least　until　he'd　found　Todd；　and　shown　him。
　 He　started　yelling　Todd's　name　as　he　ran　up　the　stairs；　but　there　was　no　reply。　He　went　to　the　master　bedroom；　knocked；　and　entered。　The　room　was　empty；　the　French　doors　to　the　balcony　open；　the　drapes　billowing。
　 He　went　to　the　balcony。　The　wind　that　was　moving　the　drapes　was　a　California　wind：　warm；　fragrant；　gentle。　It　was　not　remotely　like　the　wind　that　had　blown　against　his　face　in　the　room　below。　That　was　a　wind　from　a　different　country。
　 Todd　was　not　on　the　balcony。　But　once　Marco　was　out　there　he　heard　the　sound　of　voices　from　somewhere　in　the　Canyon。　Women's　voices；　mostly；　laughing。　And　lights；　running　between　the　trees。
　 〃Sonofabitch；〃　Marco　said。
　 The　boss　was　apparently　having　a　party；　and　he　hadn't　invited　Marco。
　 The　evening　was　getting　stranger　by　the　minute。　He　went　downstairs；　through　the　kitchen　and　out　to　the　back　door。　Anxiety　had　soured　the　drink　in　his　stomach；　and　as　he　opened　the　back　door　a　wave　of　nausea　suddenly　overcame　him。　He　had　no　time　to　get　outside。　He　puked　on　the　threshold；　the　force　of　the　feeling　enough　to　fold　his　legs　up　beneath　him。
　 He　gazed　weakly　down　at　the　splattered　whisky　and　meatballs　on　the　ground；　his　eyes　vaguely　prehending　the　intricacy　of　five　nails　that　were　driven　into　the　partially　rotted　wood　of　the　threshold。
　 Then；　from　the　darkness　on　the　other　side　of　the　threshold　there　came　a　soft；　infinitely　sorrowful　voice。　The　voice　of　a　lost　girl。
　 〃Let　me　in；〃　she　said。
　 Marco　looked　up；　his　head　still　spinning。　There　was　more　vomit　gurgling　in　his　belly；　he　could　feel　his　system　preparing　to　revolt　again。　He　tried　to　make　sense　of　the　girl　who　just　begged　entrance　to　the　house；　narrowing　his　eyes　to　see　if　he　could　separate　her　from　the　shadows。
　 There　she　was：　a　young　woman　with　a　face　that　his　sickened　eyes　could　not　entirely　fix　nor　be　certain　of；　but　who　seemed　to　be　more　than　passingly　pretty。　She　had　long　blonde　hair　and　pale；　almost　white；　skin；　and　as　suited　her　tone　of　supplication　she　was　on　her　knees；　her　pose　a　mirror　image　of　his　own。　She　was　wearing　what　appeared　to　be　a　man's　shirt；　which　was　unbuttoned。　Had　Marco　been　feeling　more　like　himself；　he　might　have　hoped　to　persuade　her　to　take　the　shirt　off　before　he　took　pity　on　her。　But　the　nausea　overwhelmed　all　other　responses：　the　girl's　near…nakedness　only　made　his　belly　churn　harder。　He　looked　away　from　her；　hoping　to　postpone　the　next　bout　of　vomiting　until　she　was　out　of　sight。　She　plainly　took　his　averted　eyes　as　a　sign　of　rejection。
　 〃Please。〃　she　said　to　him　again；　〃I　just　want　to　get　back　into　the　house。　You　have　to　help　me。〃
　 〃I'm　in　no　condition…〃　he　started；　looking　up　at　her　to　try　and　municate　with　the　expression　just　how　dire　he　felt；　but　the　few　words　he'd　begun　to　say　were　enough　to　bring　about　a　sudden　and　calamitous　change　in　her。
　 She　let　out　a　shriek　of　frustration　and　rage；　volume　and　shrillness　uncanny。　He　felt　his　gorge　rising；　and　as　the　woman's　din　reached　its　inhuman　height；　he　puked　up　what　was　left　of　his　dinner。
　 The　worst　was　over　now；　but　there　was　more　to　e　from　the　woman　outside。　Feeling　his　stomach　settling；　he　chanced　a　look　up　at　her。　It　was　an　error。　She　was　still　letting　out　the　remnants　of　that　godless　shriek　of　hers；　and　it　seemed…at　least　to　Marco's　sickened　and　bewildered　eyes…that　the　noise　was　taking　some　grotesque　toll　on　her　body。　Her　face…which　had　been　so　beautiful　just　minutes　before…had　bee　a　grey；　smeared　form：　her　forehead　swollen　so　that　she　looked　cretinous；　her　eyes　pulled　into　empty　slits；　her　mouth　running　with　saliva　from　its　turned　down　corners。　Her　oversized　shirt　of　hers　had　fallen　open　to　reveal　breasts　that　were　gray　scraps　of　dead　flesh；　hanging　on　the　cage　of　her　bones。　Beneath　them；　he　seemed　to　see　her　innards　in　frenzied　motion；　as　though　she　had　snakes　nesting　in　her。
　 It　was　too　much　for　Marco's　already　traumatized　senses。　He　didn't　give　any　further　thought　to　finding　Todd…Christ；　Todd　was　probably　part　of　this　insanity。
　 With　his　heels　sliding　in　the　mess　he'd　made；　he　hauled　himself　to　his　feet…half　expecting　the　abomination　on　the　other　side　of　the　threshold　to　e　after　him。　But　for　some　reason　she　kept　her　distance；　her　transformation　now　so　far　advanced　she　was　pletely　unrecognizable　as　the　woman　he'd　first　laid　eyes　on。
　 He　retreated　down　the　passageway…still　assuming　this　nightmare　might　e　after　him。　But　she　matched　his　retreat　with　one　of　her　own；　melting　into　the　shadows。　Marco　wasn't　reassured。　She'd　probably　gone　to　find　others；　he　didn't　want　to　be　here　when　they　came　back。　He　raced　into　the　kitchen　and　picked　up　his　car　keys；　which　were　on　the　table。　He　gave　a　moment's　consideration　to　the　possibility　of　lingering　to　wash　his　face　and　hands　（maybe　even　to　changing　his　puke…splattered　shirt）；　but　he　decided　to　forego　cleanliness　in　favour　of　making　a　fast　exit。
　
　 He　drove　down　the　serpentine　road　that　led　out　of　the　Canyon　as　if　he　were　being　pursued　by　a　horde　of　demon…women；　and　without　even　thinking　about　it　took　the　same　route　he'd　taken　with　Todd　countless　times：　up　onto　Mulholland　Drive。　He　opened　the　window　as　he　drove；　so　as　to　have　a　sobering　breeze　blowing　against　his　face；　but　it　had　very　little　effect。　There　was　too　much　alcohol　in　his　blood；　and　too　much　panic　inflaming　that　alcohol；　to　make　him　a　safe　driver　on　such　a　notoriously　tricky　and　dangerous　stretch　of　road。　He　didn't　care。　He　just　wanted　to　put　some　distance　between　himself　and　that　damn　Canyon　as　fast　as　possible。
　 On　one　of　the　hairpin　bends　his　clammy　hands　slid　on　the　wheel；　and　he　momentarily　lost　control　of　the　car。　He　was　a　good　enough　driver…even　in　his　present　state…to　recover　quickly；　and　things　might　have　been　fine　had　another　speed…freak　not　e　barreling　round　the　corner　in　the　opposite　direction。　The　other　driver　took　quick　evasive　action；　and　was　away　round　the　bend　before　Marco　lost　what　little　control　he　had。　The　wheel　slipped　through　his　hands；　and　his　drink…slurred　foot　was　too　slow　on　the　brake　to　stop　the　car　from　skewing　round；　squealing　loudly。　There　was　no　barrier　between　the　road　and　the　drop；　not　even　a　wooden　fence。　The　front　half　of　the　vehicle　went　over　the　edge；　and　there　it　lodged　for　a　moment；　finely　balanced　between　solid　asphalt　and　oblivion。　Marco　muttered　a　little　prayer；　but　God　wasn't　listening。　T