js&cs.thebridge-第51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！


　　〃I　ain't　TALKIN'　to　YOU！〃　Dean　growled；　bringing　the　man's　head　down　hard　against　the　bar。　It　cracked　like　a　gourd　on　a　cinder　block。　The　man　went　wobbly…kneed。　Dean　held　him　up。　fist　twisting　around　his　victim's　hair。　A　bunch　of　it　came　out　in　his　hand。
　　〃Hmmph！〃　Dean　scoffed。　〃Don't　make　'em　like　they　used　to；　eh；　John…John？〃　he　said。　Harassing　passersby　was　more　than　a　hobby　with　them；　it　was　blood　sport。
　　〃I　dunno；〃　Strong　John　smiled。　〃I　think　he　likes　you。〃
　　Dean　grinned；　it　was　like　a　cue。　〃Hey；〃　he　said；　lifting　the　man's　face　off　the　bar。　〃What's　yer　name？〃
　　〃Nnuuhh　。。。　〃　the　man　mumbled；　bright　streamers　of　blood　leaked　from　his　nostrils　and　lips。　〃Nuhn…Niles　。。。　〃　he　said。
　　〃Niles；〃　Dean　repeated。　〃Oooh；　I　like　that　name。　That's　a　nice　name。　So　tell　me　something；　Niles；〃　he　said；　lethally　ingratiating。　〃Do　you　like　me？〃
　　Niles　looked　at　him　with　wide…eyed　terror；　suddenly　caught　in　a　lightning…round　of　Out…Psyche　the　Psycho。　He　had　a　bad　feeling　that　there　simply　was　no　right　answer。
　　〃Please；〃　he　pleaded；　hands　up　in　supplication。　〃I　don't　want　any　trouble　。。。　〃
　　Dean　grinned　even　wider：　all　teeth；　like　a　dog　smiles。　〃Well；　that's　too　bad；　Niles；　'cause　trouble's　all　we　got！　Knowhaddahmean？〃
　　Dean　gave　his　best　dimwit　Ernest　Goes　to　Hell　grin　and　twisted　Niles's　hair　again；　there　was　plenty　enough　left　to　bring　him　down。　Niles　grabbed　at　the　bar；　trying　to　resist；　but　the　geometry　was　all　wrong。　Dean　twisted　again；　Niles's　legs　buckled；　and　down　he　went。　He　landed　on　his　knees；　facing　Dean。
　　One　by　one；　the　other　cheese…faced　denizens　of　the　Iron　Horse　craned　their　necks　to　watch　the　show　。。。
　　。。。　when　suddenly　the　front　windows　lit　up　like　angry　eyes；　as　something　sputtered　and　roared　into　the　parking　lot。
　　Dean　looked　at　the　opaque　glass…block　front　window　and　smiled；　he　knew　the　sound　of　the　Booniemobile　by　heart。　〃S'bout　fuckin'　time！〃　he　said。
　　The　headlights　loomed　larger；　as　the　truck　drew　near　without　dropping　an　ounce　of　momentum。　He's　not　stopping；　Dean　realized。　He's　not　going　to　stop。
　　At　all　。。。
　　〃What　the　fuck？〃　Strong　John　started。
　　。。。　and　the　scorched…raw　nose　of　the　Booniemobile　smashed　through　the　front　wall；　bulldozing　the　jukebox　in　a　wave　of　glass　and　shrapnel　debris；　killing　Skynyrd　twice　in　a　lifetime　as　it　plowed　on　toward　the　bar。
　　Before　Dean　could　so　much　as　say　duck；　the　truck　drove　a　corroded　mutant　wedge　into　him；　pinning　him　to　the　bar　like　a　bug　in　a　science　project。　He　thrashed　and　shrieked　in　frequencies　only　dogs　could　hear。　Niles　the　Volvo　Faggot　was　thrown　to　the　side；　came　up　staggering；　fleeing　as　one　of　the　barrels　flew　of　the　back；　propelled　by　the　force　of　impact　like　an　enormous　steel　spitwad。　It　hurtled　down　and　clipped　Strong　John　of　at　the　knees　even　as　another　catapulted　into　the　back　wall　like　a　cannonball　and　exploded；　raining　toxin　down　on　everything　and　everyone　in　sight。
　　Dean　looked　up；　still　pinned　and　shrieking；　and　saw　the　cab　door　open。　He　watched；　still　shrieking；　as　a　shape　emerged　that　made　no　sense　at　all。
　　He　realized；　still　shrieking；　that　it　was　the　Boonster；　e　to　pay　up　at　last。　Boonie　took　one　look　at　Dean　and　laughed　like　crazy。
　　Then　he　let　him　in　on　the　joke。
　　
　　
　　　Thirty…Seven
　　　
　　Just　when　he　thought　he　couldn't　stand　any　more；　Gary　stumbled　across　an　open　line。
　　For　a　second；　it　utterly　threw　him。　After　over　twenty　minutes　of　pacing　studio　B；　fruitlessly　picking　up　and　slamming　down　the　receiver；　he　suddenly　found　himself　standing　there　listening　to　the　first　ring。
　　〃Yes；〃　he　said；　allowing　himself　the　teeniest　smile…crinkle　at　one　corner　of　his　mouth。
　　By　the　second　ring；　the　crinkle　was　gone。
　　By　the　fourth　ring；　Gary　was　carefully　regulating　his　breathing。　Calm　down；　calm　down　was　the　unspoken　message。　There　was　no　point；　no　percentage　in　panic。　The　fact　was　that　they　could　be　out　and　still　be　in　no　trouble　at　all。　Despite　the　phone　lines。　Despite　the　very　bad　feeling　in　his　gut。
　　But　by　the　eighth　ring；　there　was　no　getting　around　that　feeling；　that　very　bad　feeling　that　something　was　wrong。　He　listened　to　the　brrrrrrng　of　ring　number　nine；　knew　that　ten　was　the　logical　cutoff　point；　listened　to　the　silence　that　followed　the　ring　and　knew　there　was　no　way　in　hell　that　he　could　hang　up　the　phone　until　Gwen's　voice　was　on　it；　speaking　to　him；　letting　him　know　that　nothing　was　wrong；　it　was　okay　for　him　to　stick　around　a　bit；　ride　out　this　little　burst　of　public　hysteria　and　keep　the　bosses　happy；　secure　in　the　knowledge　that　she　was　fine　and　all　was　right　with　the　world。
　　Then　the　tenth　ring　came；　and　he　pulled　the　receiver　away　from　his　ear。　It　shook　in　his　frustrated　grip。　He　wanted　to　slam　it　down；　to　obliterate　its　power　over　him。　He　was　terrified　of　breaking　the　connection。
　　His　gaze　traveled　to　the　video　monitors。　As　far　as　they　were　concerned；　it　was　an　ordinary　day。　A　little　bit　of　tension　being　generated　by　the　Philadelphia　Eagles；　but　that　was　expected：　shit；　the　odds　were　five　to　one　in　their　favor。　It　scarcely　qualified　as　a　break　with　routine。
　　Brrrrrrng。　Number　eleven。　He　waited。　As　he　did；　his　free　hand　drifted　to　the　channel　cue　for　monitor　number　2；　which　was　wired　to　the　local　cable　feed。　He　flipped　through　the　channels　with　the　sound　turned　down。
　　Brrrrrrrng。　WMAR　from　Baltimore　was　NBC　as　well；　running　about　two　seconds　behind　'PAL。　WBAL；　11　on　the　dial；　was　midway　into　that　Fess　Parker　classic；　Climb　an　Angry　Mountain；　while　Channel　13　was　stuck　on　Senior　PGA　Golf。
　　Brrrrrrng。　They　were　Remembering　World　War　Two　on　Channel　15；　getting　regional　football　coverage　on　21；　back　to　seniors'　golf　on　27；　locked　on　the　Firing　Line　on　Hershey's　public　station；　Channel　33。　The　Home　Shopping　Network　offered　more　junk　to　people　who　couldn't　afford　it；　Poison　preened　on　MTV；　Marilyn　pouted　on　Cinemax；　HBO　and　Showtime　ran　simultaneous　screenings　of　Aliens。　Normal；　normal；　normal。
　　Brrrrrrrng。　He　was　starting　to　feel　like　an　idiot；　holding　this　ringing　phone　to　his　head。　The　smart　thing　to　do　would　be　to　bug　out　of　here；　hop　on　his　hog　and　motor　home。　Fuck　Laura；　and　most　certainly　fuck　Kirk。　Fuck　his　job；　if　it　came　right　down　to　it；　although　there　was　no　reason　in　the　world　why　it　should。
　　He　started　to　hang　it　up。
　　Brrrrrrrrng。
　　〃No；〃　he　said；　bringing　the　phone　back　to　his　ear。　If　she　wasn't　there；　going　home　would　be　worse　than　pointless。　Brrrrrrrng。　And　then　what　would　he　do？　Drive　around　until　he　found　her？　Pace　holes　in　the　carpet？　Micki　was　a　wild　card；　the　last　time　she　blew　into　town　they　took　off　for　two　days；　hightailing　it　to　Baltimore；　for　chrissakes。　Did　he　have　to　check　every　park；　every　ice　cream　parlor；　every　goddam　hospital　in　the　tri…county　area？　Put　out　an　APB？
　　Brrrrrrrrng。　Bottom　line：　he　didn't　know　where　the　fuck　she　was。　She　knew　he　was　here。　And　as　an　added　bonus；　at　least　here　he　could　monitor　the　situation；　determine　how　crazy　it　actually　was　out　there　。。。
　　。。。　though　it　struck　him；　through　the　next　several　rings；　that　there　was　nothing　on　the　tube　to　corroborate　the　stories　pouring　in　off　the　phones。　He　flicked　over　the　remaining　channels；　saw　no　discrepancies。　Between　the　big　game；　Outdoor　Life；　and　the　last　ten　minutes　of　Gone　With　the　Wind；　it　was　plain　that　the　world　could　end　and　you'd　never　even　know　it　。。。
　　。。。　and　suddenly　there　was　a　voice　on　the　other　end　of　the　receiver。　〃Hello？〃　it　said。　A　woman's　voice。
　　For　the　second　time；　he　was　surprised　into　dumbstruck　silence。
　　〃Hello？〃　she　said　again。　The　voice　was　winded；　unfamiliar；　and　for　one　horrible；　ludicrous　second；　his　mind　spun　a　wrong　number；　you　got　the　wrong　fucking　number　tape　loop　at　him。　His　voice；　when　it　spoke；　seemed　to　e　from　somewhere　else。
　　〃Micki？〃　it　said；　way　ahead　of　him。
　　〃Gary？〃　Yes。　Micki。　〃Thank　GOD。〃
　　〃What？〃　Something　in　her　tone　sunk　his　lungs　to　his　groin。　〃Where's　Gwen？　Is　everything　okay？〃
　　〃Yeah；　everything's　fine。　She's　right　here；〃　Micki　said。
　　And　from　behind　her；　Gwen's　voice　echoed　his　name。
　　Up　until　that　moment；　he'd　been　living　in　a　state　of　extreme　and　emphatic　denial。　No　way　could　he　possibly　admit　to　himself　how　terr