sk.thetalisman-第176章
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enough。 Not nearly enough。 Jack was panting like a dog on a hot summer day； his eyes frantic as he searched the stormy blackness for Sloat。 'But I'll not hold it against you； Jacky Now； let's see。 What were we talking about？ Oh yes。 Your mother 。 。 。'
A little warble 。 。 。 a little fade 。 。 。 and then a stone came whistling out of the darkness on the right and struck Jack's temple。 He whirled； but Sloat was gone again； skipping nimbly back into the snow。
'She'd wrap those long legs around me until I howled for mercy！' Sloat declared from behind Jack and to the right 'OWWWWOOOOOO！'
Don't let him get you don't let him psych you out don't…
But he couldn't help it。 It was his mother this dirty man was talking about； his mother。
'You stop it！ You shut up！'
Sloat was in front of him now…so close Jack should have been able to see him clearly in spite of the swirling snow； but there was only a glimmer； like a face seen underwater at night Another stone zoomed out of the dark and struck Jack in the back of the head。 He staggered forward and nearly tripped over Richard again…a Richard who was rapidly disappearing under a mantle of snow。
He saw stars 。 。 。 and understood what was happening。
Sloat's flipping！ Flipping 。 。 。 moving 。 。 。 flipping back！
Jack turned in an unsteady circle； like a man beset with a hundred enemies instead of just one。 Lightning…fire licked out of the dark in a narrow greenish…blue ray。 He reached toward it with the Talisman； hoping to deflect it back at Sloat。 Too late。 It winked out。
Then how e I don't see him over there？ Over there in the Territories？
The answer came to him in a dazzling flash 。 。 。 and as if in response； the Talisman flashed a gorgeous fan of white light…it cut the snowy light like the headlamp of a lootive。
I don't see him over there； don't respond to him over there； because I'm NOT over there！ Jason's gone 。 。 。 and I'm single…natured！ Sloat's flipping onto a beach where there's no one but Morgan of Orris and a dead or dying man named Parkus…Richard isn't there either； because Morgan of Orris's son； Rushton； died a long time ago and Richard's single…natured； too！ When I flipped before； the Talisman was there 。 。 。 but Richard wasn't！ Morgan's flipping 。 。 。 moving 。 。 。 flipping back 。 。 。 trying to freak me out 。 。 。 。
'Hoo…hoo！ Jacky…boy！'
The left。
'Over here！'
The right。
But Jack wasn't listening for the place anymore。 He was looking into the Talisman； waiting for the downbeat。 The most important downbeat of his life。
From behind。 This time he would e from behind。
The Talisman flashed out； a strong lamp in the snow。
Jack pivoted 。 。 。 and as he pivoted he flipped into the Territories； into bright sunlight。 And there was Morgan of Orris； big as life and twice as ugly。 For a moment he didn't realize Jack had tumbled to the trick； he was limping rapidly around to a place which would be behind Jack when he flipped back into the American Territories。 There was a nasty little…boy grin on his face。 His cloak popped and billowed behind him。 His left boot dragged； and Jack saw the sand was covered with those dragging hashmarks all around him。 Morgan had been running around him in a harrying circle； all the while goading Jack with obscene lies about his mother； throwing stones； and flipping back and forth。
Jack shouted：
'I SEE YOU！' at the top of his lungs。
Morgan stared around at him in utter stunned shock； one hand curled around that silver rod。
'SEE YOU！' Jack shouted again。 'Should we go around one more time； Bloat？'
Morgan of Orris flicked the end of the rod at him； his face altering in a second from that rubbery simple…minded expression of shock to a much more characteristic look of craft…of a clever man quickly seeing all the possibilities in a situation。 His eyes narrowed。 Jack almost； in that second when Morgan of Orris looked down his lethal silver rod at him and narrowed his eyes into gunsights； flipped back into the American Territories； and that would have killed him。 But an instant before prudence or panic caused him in effect to jump in front of a moving truck； the same insight that had told him that Morgan was flipping between worlds saved him again…Jack had learned the ways of his adversary。 He held his ground； again waiting for that almost mystical downbeat。 For a fraction of a second Jack Sawyer held his breath。 If Morgan had been a shade less proud of his deviousness； he might well have murdered Jack Sawyer； which he so dearly wished to do； at that moment。
But instead； just as Jack had thought it would； Morgan's image abruptly departed the Territories。 Jack inhaled。 Speedy's body （Parkus's body； Jack realized） lay motionless a short distance away。 The downbeat came。 Jack exhaled and flipped back。
A new streak of glass divided the sand on the Point Venuti beach； glimmeringly reflecting the sudden beam of white light which emanated from the Talisman。
'Missed one； did you？' Morgan Sloat whispered out of the darkness。 Snow pelted Jack； cold wind froze his limbs； his throat； his forehead。 A car's length away； Sloat's face hung before him； the forehead drawn up into its familiar corrugations； the bloody mouth open。 He was extending the key toward Jack in the storm； and a ridge of powdery snow adhered to the brown sleeve of his suit。 Jack saw a black trail of blood oozing from the left nostril of the incongruously small nose。 Sloat's eyes； bloodshot with pain； shone through the dark air。
6
Richard Sloat confusedly opened his eyes。 Every part of him was cold。 At first he thought； quite without emotion of any kind； that he was dead。 He had fallen down somewhere； probably down those steep； tricky steps at the back of the Thayer School grandstand。 Now he was cold and dead and nothing more could happen to him。 He experienced a second of dizzying relief。
His head offered him a fresh surge of pain； and he felt warm blood ooze out over his cold hand…both of these sensations evidence that； whatever he might wele at the moment； Richard Llewellyn Sloat was not yet dead。 He was only a wounded suffering creature。 The whole top of his head seemed to have been sliced off。 He had no proper idea of where he was。 It was cold。 His eyes focused long enough to report to him that he was lying down in the snow。 Winter had happened。 More snow dumped on him from out of the sky。 Then he heard his father's voice； and everything returned to him。
Richard kept his hand on top of his head； but very slowly tilted his chin so that he could look in the direction of his father's voice。
Jack Sawyer was holding the Talisman…that was the next thing Richard took in。 The Talisman was unbroken。 He felt the return of a portion of that relief he had experienced when he'd thought he was dead。 Even without his glasses； Richard could see that Jack had an undefeated； unbowed look that moved him very deeply。 Jack looked like 。 。 。 like a hero。 That was all。 He looked like a dirty； dishevelled； outrageously youthful hero； wrong for the role on almost every count； but undeniably still a hero。
Jack was just Jack now； Richard now saw。 That extraordinary extra quality； as of a movie star deigning to walk around as a shabbily dressed twelve…year…old； had gone。 This made his heroism all the more impressive to Richard。
His father smiled rapaciously。 But that was not his father。 His father had been hollowed out a long time ago…hollowed out by his envy of Phil Sawyer； by the greed of his ambitions。
'We can keep on going around like this forever；' Jack said。 'I'm never going to give you the Talisman； and you're never going to be able to destroy it with that gadget of yours。 Give up。'
The point of the key in his father's hand slowly moved across and down； and it； like his father's greedy needful face； pointed straight at him。
'First I'll blow Richard apart；' his father said。 'Do you really want to see your pal Richard turned into bacon？ Hmmmm？ Do you？ And of course I won't hesitate to do the same favor for that pest beside him。'
Jack and Sloat exchanged short glances。 His father was not kidding； Richard knew。 He would kill him if Jack did not surr
