sk.dreamcatcher-第38章

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d。　In　fact；　he　wished　he　had　shot　him。　Yes。　He　saw　more　clearly　now。　He　was　hyped　on　the　clarity　that　sometimes　es　to　the　pletely　horrified　mind；　and　in　that　state　wished　he　had　put　a　bullet　in　McCarthy　before　he　saw　the　orange　cap　and　the　orange　flagman's　vest。　It　couldn't　have　hurt　and　it　might　have　helped。
　　　　'Stand　at　the　door　and　knock　on　my　ass；'　Jonesy　muttered。
　　　　'Jonesy？　Is　he　still　alive？'
　　　　'I　don't　know。'
　　　　Jonesy　took　another　step　forward　and　felt　Beaver's　fingers　slide　out　of　his；　the　Beav　had　apparently　e　as　close　to　McCarthy　as　he　was　able。
　　　　'Rick？'　Jonesy　asked　in　a　hushed　voice。　A　don't…wake…the…baby　voice。　A　viewing…the…corpse　voice。　'Rick；　are　you…'
　　　　There　was　a　loud；　dank　fart　from　beneath　the　man　on　the　toilet；　and　the　room　immediately　filled　with　an　eyewatering　aroma　of　excrement　and　airplane　glue。　Jonesy　thought　it　a　wonder　that　the　shower　curtain　didn't　melt。
　　　　From　the　bowl　there　came　a　splash。　Not　the　plop　of　a　turd　dropping　…　at　least　Jonesy　didn't　think　so。　It　sounded　more　like　a　fish　jumping　in　a　pond。
　　　　'Christ　almighty；　the　stink　of　it！　'Beaver　cried。　He　had　the　heel　of　his　hand　over　his　mouth　and　nose　and　his　words　were　muffled。　'But　if　he　can　fart；　he　must　be　alive。　Huh；　Jonesy？　He　must　still　be…'
　　　　'Hush；'　Jonesy　said　in　a　quiet　voice。　He　was　astonished　at　its　steadiness。　'Just　hush；　okay？'　And　the　Beav　hushed。
　　　　Jonesy　leaned　in　close。　He　could　see　everything：　the　small　stipple　of　blood　in　McCarthy's　right　eyebrow；　the　red　growth　on　his　cheek；　the　blood　on　the　blue　plastic　curtain；　the　joke　sign　…　LAMAR'S　THINKIN　PLACE　…　that　had　hung　in　here　when　the　toilet　was　still　of　the　chemical　variety　and　the　shower　had　to　be　pumped　up　before　it　could　be　used。　He　saw　the　little　gelid　gleam　from　between　McCarthy's　eyelids　and　the　cracks　in　his　lips；　which　looked　purple　and　liverish　in　this　light。　He　could　smell　the　noxious　aroma　of　the　passed　gas　and　could　almost　see　that；　too；　rising　in　filthy　dark　yellow　streamers；　like　mustard　gas。
　　　　'McCarthy？　Rick？　Can　you　hear　me？'
　　　　He　snapped　his　fingers　in　front　of　those　nearly　closed　eyes。　Nothing。　He　licked　a　spot　on　the　back　of　his　wrist　and　held　it　first　in　front　of　McCarthy's　nostrils；　then　in　front　of　his　lips。　Nothing。
　　　　'He's　dead；　Beav；'　he　said；　drawing　back。
　　　　　　　
　　　　'Bullshit　he　is；'　Beaver　replied。　His　voice　was　ragged；　absurdly　offended；　as　if　McCarthy　had　violated　all　the　rules　of　hospitality。　'He　just　dropped　a　clinker；　man；　I　heard　it。'
　　　　'I　don't　think　that　was…'
　　　　Beav　stepped　past　him；　bumping　Jonesy's　bad　hip　against　the　sin　k　hard　enough　to　hurt。　'That's　enough；　fella！'　Beaver　cried。　He　grabbed　McCarthy's　round　freckled　unmuscled　shoulder　and　shook　it。　'Snap　out　of　it！　Snap…'
　　　　McCarthy　listed　slowly　tubward　and　Jonesy　had　a　moment　when　he　thought　Beaver　had　been　right　after　all；　the　guy　was　still　alive；　alive　and　trying　to　get　up。　Then　McCarthy　fell　off　the　throne　and　into　the　tub；　pushing　the　shower　curtain　ahead　of　him　in　a　filmy　blue　billow。　The　orange　hat　fell　off。　There　was　a　bony　crack　as　his　skull　hit　the　porcelain　and　then　Jonesy　and　Beaver　were　screaming　and　clutching　each　other；　the　sound　of　their　horror　deafening　in　the　little　tile…lined　room。　McCarthy's　ass　was　a　lopsided　full　moon　with　a　giant　bloody　crater　in　its　center；　the　site　of　some　terrible　impact；　it　seemed。　Jonesy　saw　it　for　only　a　second　before　McCarthy　collapsed　facedown　into　the　tub　and　the　curtain　floated　back　into　place；　hiding　him；　but　in　that　second　it　seemed　to　Jonesy　that　the　hole　was　a　foot　across。　Could　that　be？　A　foot？　Surely　not。
　　　　In　the　toilet　bowl；　something　splashed　again；　hard　enough　to　spatter　droplets　of　bloody　water　up　onto　the　ring；　which　was　also　blue。　Beaver　started　to　lean　forward　to　look　in；　and　Jonesy　slammed　the　lid　down　on　the　ring　without　even　thinking　about　it。　'No；'　he　said。
　　　　'No？'
　　　　'No。'
　　　　Beaver　tried　to　get　a　toothpick　out　of　the　front　pocket　of　his　overalls；　came　up　with　half　a　dozen；　and　dropped　them　on　the　floor。　They　rolled　across　the　bloody　blue　tiles　like　jackstraws。　The　Beav　looked　at　them；　then　looked　up　at　Jonesy。　There　were　tears　standing　in　his　eyes。　'Like　Duddits；　man；'　he　said。
　　　　'What　in　God's　name　are　you　talking　about？'
　　　　'Don't　you　remember？　He　was　almost　naked；　too。　Fuckers　snatched　off　his　shirt　and　his　pants；　didn't　leave　him　nothing　but　his　underpants。　But　we　saved　him。'　Beaver　nodded　vigorously；　as　if　Jonesy　…　or　some　deep　and　doubtful　part　of　himself　…　had　scoffed　at　this　idea。　　　
　　　　Jonesy　scoffed　at　nothing；　although　McCarthy　didn't　remind　him　in　the　slightest　of　Duddits。　He　kept　seeing　McCarthy　going　over　sideways　into　the　tub；　his　orange　hat　falling　off；　the　fatty　deposits　on　his　chest　（the　tits　of　easy　living；　Henry　called　them　whenever　he　saw　a　pair　underneath　some　guy's　polo　shirt）　wobbling。　And　then　his　ass　turning　up　to　the　light　…　that　harsh　fluorescent　light　that　kept　no　secrets　but　blabbed　everything　in　a　droning　monotone。　That　perfect　white　man's　ass；　hairless；　just　starting　to　turn　flabby　and　settle　down　on　the　backs　of　the　thighs；　he　had　seen　a　thousand　like　it　in　the　various　locker　rooms　where　he　had　dressed　and　showered；　was　developing　one　himself　（or　had　been　until　the　guy　had　run　him　over；　changing　the　physical　configuration　of　his　backside　perhaps　forever）；　only　he　had　never　seen　one　like　McCarthy's　was　now；　one　that　looked　like　something　inside　had　fired　a　flare　or　a　shotgun　shell　in　order　to　…　　to　what？
　　　　There　was　another　hollow　splash　from　the　toilet。　The　Ed　bumped　up。　It　was　as　good　an　answer　as　any。　In　order　to　get　out；　of　course。
　　　　In　order　to　get　out。
　　　　'Sit　on　that；'　Jonesy　told　Beaver。
　　　　'Huh？'
　　　　'Sit　on　it！'　Jonesy　almost　shouted　it　this　time　and　Beaver　sat　down　on　the　closed　Ed　in　a　hurry；　looking　startled。　In　the　no…secrets；　flat…toned　light　of　the　fluorescents；　Beaver's　skin　looked　as　white　as　freshly　turned　clay　and　every　fleck　of　black　stubble　was　a　mole。　His　lips　were　purple。　Above　his　head　was　the　old　joke　sign：　LAMAR'S　THINKIN　PLACE。　Beav's　blue　eyes　were　wide　and　terrified。
　　　　'I'm　sittin；　Jonesy　…　see？'
　　　　'Yeah。　I'm　sorry；　Beav。　But　you　just　sit　there；　all　right？　Whatever　he　had　inside　him；　it's　trapped。　Got　nowhere　to　go　but　the　septic　tank。　I'll　be　back…'　　　　
　　　　'Where　you　goin？　Cause　I　don't　want　you　to　leave　me　sittin　in　the　shithouse　next　to　a　dead　man；　Jonesy。　If　we　both　run…'
　　　　'We're　not　running；'　Jonesy　said　grimly。　'This　is　our　place；　and　we're　not　running。'　Which　sounded　noble　but　left　out　at　least　one　aspect　of　the　situation：　he　was　mostly　just　afraid　the　thing　that　was　now　in　the　toilet　might　be　able　to　run　faster　than　they　could。　Or　squiggle　faster。　Or　something。　Clips　from　a　hundred　horror　films　…　Parasite；　Alien；　They　Came　from　Within　…　ran　through　his　mind　at　super…speed。　Carla　wouldn't　go　to　the　movies　with　him　when　one　of　those　was　playing；　and　she　made　him　go　downstairs　and　use　the　TV　in　his　study　when　he　brought　them　home　on　tape。　But　one　of　those　movies　…　something　he'd　seen　in　one　of　them　…just　might　save　their　lives。　Jonesy　glanced　at　the　reddish…gold　mildewy　stuff　growing　on　McCarthy's　bloody　handprint。　Save　their　lives　from　the　thing　in　the　toilet；　anyway。　The　mildewy　stuff　。　。　。　who　in　God's　name　knew？
　　　　The　thing　in　the　bowl　leaped　again；　thudding　the　underside　of　the　lid；　but　Beaver　had　no　trouble　holding　the　lid　down。　That　was　good。　Maybe　whatever　it　was　would　drown　in　there；　although　Jonesy　didn't　see　how　they　could　count　on　that；　it　had　been　living　inside　McCarthy；　hadn't　it？　It　had　been　living　inside　old　Mr　Behold…I…stand…at…the…door…and…knock　for　quite　some　time；　maybe　the　whole　four　days　he'd　been　lost　in　the　woods。　It　had　slowed　the　growth　of　McCarthy's　beard；　it　seemed；　and　caused　a　few　of　his　teeth　to　fall　out；　it　had　also　caused　McCarthy　to　pass　gas　that　probably　couldn't　have　gone　ignored　even　in　the　politest　of　polite　society　…　farts　like　poison　gas；　to　be　perfectly　blunt　about　it　…　but　the　thing　itself　had　apparently　been　fine　。　。　。　lively　。　。　。　growing　。　。　。
　　　　Jonesy　had　a　sudden　vivid　image　of　a　wriggling　white　tapeworm　emerging　from　a　pile　of　raw　meat。　His　gorge　rose　with　a　liquid　chugging　sound。
　　　　'Jonesy？'　Beaver　started　t