sk.thetalisman-第151章

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s；　delivered　by　celestial　telegram。　It　was　as　if　he　were　on　a　horse；　a　broad…brimmed　hat　on　his　head　and　a　gun　tied　to　his　hip；　riding　in　to　clean　up　Deadwood　Gulch。
　　Last　Train　to　Hangtown；　he　remembered：　Lily　Cavanaugh；　Clint　Walker；　and　Will　Hutchins；　1960。　So　be　it。
　　　
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　　Four　or　five　of　the　Territories　trees　struggled　out　of　the　hard　brown　soil　beside　the　first　of　the　abandoned　buildings。　Maybe　they　had　been　there　all　along；　snaking　their　branches　over　the　road　nearly　to　the　white　line；　maybe　not；　Jack　could　not　remember　seeing　them　when　he　first　looked　down　toward　the　concealed　town。　It　was　scarcely　more　conceivable；　though；　that　he　could　overlook　the　trees　than　he　could　a　pack　of　wild　dogs。　He　could　hear　their　roots　rustling　along　the　surface　of　the　ground　as　he　and　Richard　approached　the　warehouse。
　　（OUR　boy？　OUR　boy？）
　　'Let's　get　on　the　other　side　of　the　road；'　he　said　to　Richard；　and　took　his　lumpy　hand　to　lead　him　across。
　　As　soon　as　they　reached　the　opposite　side　of　the　road；　one　of　the　Territories　trees　visibly　stretched　out；　root　and　branch；　for　them。　If　trees　had　stomachs；　they　could　have　heard　its　stomach　growl。　The　gnarly　branch　and　the　smooth　snakelike　root　whipped　across　the　yellow　line；　then　across　half　the　remaining　distance　to　the　boys。　Jack　prodded　gasping　Richard　in　the　side　with　his　elbow；　then　grasped　his　arm　and　pulled　him　along。
　　（MY　MY　MY　MY　BOY！　YESSS！！）
　　A　tearing；　ripping　sound　suddenly　filled　the　air；　and　for　a　moment　Jack　thought　that　Morgan　of　Orris　was　raping　a　passage　through　the　worlds　again；　being　Morgan　Sloat　。　。　。　Morgan　Sloat　with　a　final；　not…to…be…refused　offer　involving　a　machine…gun；　a　blowtorch；　a　pair　of　red…hot　pincers　。　。　。　but　instead　of　Richard's　furious　father；　the　crown　of　the　Territories　tree　struck　the　middle　of　the　road；　bounced　once　in　a　snapping　of　branches；　then　rolled　over　on　its　side　like　a　dead　animal。
　　'Oh　my　God；'　Richard　said。　'It　came　right　out　of　the　ground　after　us。'　
　　Which　was　precisely　what　Jack　had　been　thinking。　'Kamikaze　tree；'　he　said。　'I　think　things　are　going　to　be　a　little　wild　here　in　Point　Venuti。'
　　'Because　of　the　black　hotel？'
　　'Sure…but　also　because　of　the　Talisman。'　He　looked　down　the　road　and　saw　another　clump　of　the　carnivorous　trees　about　ten　yards　down　the　hill。　'The　vibes　or　the　atmosphere　or　whatever　the　ding…dong　you　want　to　call　it　are　all　screwed　up…because　everything's　evil　and　good；　black　and　white；　all　mixed　up。'　
　　Jack　was　keeping　his　eye　on　the　clump　of　trees　they　now　slowly　approached　as　he　talked；　and　saw　the　nearest　tree　twitch　its　crown　toward　them；　as　if　it　had　heard　his　voice。
　　Maybe　this　whole　town　is　a　big　Oatley；　Jack　was　thinking；　and　maybe　he　would　e　through　after　all…but　if　there　was　a　tunnel　up　ahead；　the　last　thing　Jack　Sawyer　was　going　to　do　was　enter　it。　He　really　did　not　want　to　meet　the　Point　Venuti　version　of　Elroy。
　　'I'm　afraid；'　Richard　said　behind　him。　'Jack；　what　if　more　of　those　trees　can　jump　out　of　the　ground　like　that？'
　　'You　know；'　Jack　said；　'I've　noticed　that　even　when　trees　are　mobile；　they　can't　actually　get　very　far。　Even　a　turkey　like　you　ought　to　be　able　to　outrun　a　tree。'　
　　He　was　rounding　the　last　curve　in　the　road；　going　downhill　past　the　final　warehouses。　The　Talisman　called　and　called；　as　vocal　as　the　giant's　singing　harp　in　'Jack　and　the　Beanstalk。'　At　last　Jack　came　around　the　curve；　and　the　rest　of　Point　Venuti　lay　beneath　him。
　　His　Jason…side　kept　him　going。　Point　Venuti　might　once　have　been　a　pleasant　little　resort　town；　but　those　days　had　passed　long　ago。　Now　Point　Venuti　itself　was　the　Oatley　tunnel；　and　he　would　have　to　walk　through　all　of　it。　The　cracked；　broken　surface　of　the　road　dipped　toward　an　area　of　burned…out　houses　surrounded　by　Territories　trees…the　workers　in　the　empty　factories　and　warehouses　would　have　lived　in　these　small　frame　houses。　Enough　was　left　of　one　or　two　of　them　to　show　what　they　had　been。　The　twisted　hulks　of　burned　cars　lay　here　and　there　about　the　houses；　entwined　with　thick　weeds。　Through　the　wasted　foundations　of　the　little　houses；　the　roots　of　the　Territories　trees　slowly　prowled。　Blackened　bricks　and　boards；　upended　and　smashed　bathtubs；　twisted　pipes　littered　the　burned…out　lots。　A　flash　of　white　caught　Jack's　eye；　but　he　looked　away　as　soon　as　he　saw　that　it　was　the　white　bone　of　a　disarranged　skeleton　hooked　beneath　the　tangle　of　roots。　Once　children　had　piloted　bikes　through　these　streets；　housewives　had　gathered　in　kitchens　to　plain　about　wages　and　unemployment；　men　had　waxed　their　cars　in　their　driveways…all　gone；　now。　A　tipped…over　swingset；　powdery　with　rust；　poked　its　limbs　through　rubble　and　weeds。
　　Reddish　little　flares　winked　on　and　off　in　the　murky　sky。　
　　Below　the　two…block…square　area　of　burned　houses　and　feeding　trees；　a　dead　stoplight　hung　over　an　empty　intersection。　Across　the　intersection；　the　side　of　a　charred　building　still　showed　letters　reading　UH　OH！　BETTER　GET　MAA　over　a　pocked；　blistered　picture　of　the　front　end　of　a　car　protruding　through　a　plate…glass　window。　The　fire　had　gone　no　farther；　but　Jack　wished　that　it　had。　Point　Venuti　was　a　blighted　town；　and　fire　was　better　than　rot。　The　building　with　the　half…destroyed　advertisement　for　Maaco　paint　stood　first　in　a　row　of　shops。　The　Dangerous　Planet　Bookstore；　Tea　&　Sympathy；　Ferdy's　Wholefood　Healthstore；　Neon　Village：　Jack　could　read　only　a　few　of　the　names　of　the　shops；　for　above　most　of　them　the　paint　had　long　ago　flaked　and　curdled　off　the　facades。　These　shops　appeared　to　be　closed；　as　abandoned　as　the　factories　and　warehouses　up　the　hill。　Even　from　where　he　stood；　Jack　could　see　that　the　plate…glass　windows　had　been　broken　so　long　ago　they　were　like　empty　eyeglass　frames；　blank　idiot　eyes。　Smears　of　paint　decorated　the　fronts　of　the　shops；　red　and　black　and　yellow；　oddly　bright　and　scarlike　in　the　dull　gray　air。　A　naked　woman；　so　starved　Jack　could　have　counted　her　ribs；　twisted　slowly　and　ceremoniously　as　a　weathervane　in　the　littered　street　before　the　shops。　Above　her　pale　body　with　its　drooping　breasts　and　mop　of　pubic　hair；　her　face　had　been　painted　blazing　orange。　Orange；　too；　was　her　hair。　Jack　stopped　moving　and　watched　the　insane　woman　with　the　painted　face　and　dyed　hair　raise　her　arms；　twist　her　upper　body　as　deliberately　as　one　doing　a　Tai　Chi　movement；　kick　her　left　foot　out　over　the　flyblown　corpse　of　a　dog；　and　freeze　into　position　like　a　statue。　An　emblem　of　all　Point　Venuti；　the　madwoman　held　her　posture。　Slowly　the　foot　came　down；　and　the　skinny　body　revolved。
　　Past　the　woman；　past　the　row　of　empty　shops；　Main　Street　turned　residential…at　least　Jack　supposed　that　it　had　once　been　residential。　Here；　too；　bright　scars　of　paint　defaced　the　buildings；　tiny　two…story　houses　once　bright　white；　now　covered　with　the　slashes　of　paint　and　graffiti。　One　slogan　jumped　out　at　him：　YOU'RE　DEAD　NOW；　scrawled　up　the　side　of　an　isolated　peeling　building　that　had　surely　once　been　a　boarding　house。　The　words　had　been　there　a　long　time。
　　JASON；　I　NEED　YOU；　the　Talisman　boomed　out　at　him　in　a　language　both　above　and　beneath　speech。
　　'I　can't；'　Richard　whispered　beside　him。　'Jack；　I　know　I　can't。'　
　　After　the　row　of　peeling；　hopeless…looking　houses；　the　road　dipped　again；　and　Jack　could　see　only　the　backs　of　a　pair　of　black　Cadillac　limousines；　one　on　either　side　of　Main　Street；　parked　with　their　noses　pointed　downhill；　motors　running。　Like　a　trick　photograph；　looking　impossibly　large；　impossibly　sinister；　the　top…half？　third？…of　the　black　hotel　reared　up　over　the　back　ends　of　the　Cadillacs　and　the　despairing　little　houses。　It　seemed　to　float；　cut　off　by　the　curve　of　the　final　hill。　'I　can't　go　in　there；'　Richard　repeated。
　　'I'm　not　even　sure　we　can　get　past　those　trees；'　Jack　said。　'Hold　your　water；　Richie。'　
　　Richard　uttered　an　odd；　snuffling　noise　which　it　took　Jack　a　second　to　recognize　as　the　sound　of　crying。　He　put　his　arm　over　Richard's　shoulder。　The　hotel　owned　the　landscape…that　much　was　obvious。　The　black　hotel　owned　Point　Venuti；　the　air　above　it；　the　ground　beneath。　Looking　at　it；　Jack　saw　the　weathervanes　spin　in　contradictory　directions；　the　turrets　and　gambre