jefflong.yearzero-第24章
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ee smeared her face and shoulders。 While he stood looking at the stone idol； a woman and her daughter approached。
Nathan Lee drew his elbows tighter to his ribs。 He was caught。 Surely they would cry out。 But the woman didn't waste a glance on him。 She was businesslike in her devotion； tossing a bit of rice； murmuring a prayer。 The little girl stared at him with huge black eyes。 Nathan Lee lowered his head and moved away。
His previous escapes had been nothing but wild； mindless gallops。 This time； he vowed； would be different。 He wanted to bolt from the city。 But for the moment； his best ruse would be to mingle with other Westerners in the tourist district。 Even there； Nathan Lee knew he would stick out。 In jail； he'd weighed himself by the hook scale used for sacks of rice。 He had shrunk to forty…six kilos。 At six feet two； he weighed less than Miss America。
In the fabled hippie days； world travelers used to show up looking much like he did now； thin as skeletons； draped with rags； unwashed； impure； hair long。 That was then。 Nowadays tourists came sporting North Face and Nike brands； with designer sunglasses and thousand…dollar video cameras。 Perhaps they would mistake him for asaddhu and give him some money。 That would be a start。 He could beg for clothes。 Shoes were a priority。 And socks。 And food。 And a backpack。 His thoughts tumbled。 Maybe some climbers would take him in。 Maybe he could even arrange a passport。 For the time being； the American embassy was out； however。 The police would surely be watching it for him soon。
The mist bled pink； then burned to white。 Nathan Lee felt like a vampire； desperate to get off the streets。 Clutching hisjhola； he reached the main road； Kanti Path； and it was strangely silent。 By now there should have been a stream of traffic with honking horns and the jingle of bicycle bells。 Instead； two farmers were trying to push a cart piled with grass between scores of taxis and autorickshaws and buses。。。all of them abandoned。 Some stood parked in the middle of the street； others had pulled onto the sidewalk。 Judging by the flat tires and missing seats； they had been sitting here for weeks or months。
Astonished； he spoke to the two farmers。 〃Why are the cars like this？〃 he asked in Nepali。
〃Bhote；〃one said to the other； indicating Nathan Lee。 With his bad accent and dumb question； they took him for a mountain yokel。
〃Do you think a car uses water？〃 the other said to Nathan Lee。
Fuel；he meant。There was no fuel。 Now Nathan Lee saw the strangle weeds growing everywhere from cracks in the asphalt。 He looked around； and the post office was in similar condition； its doors lolling open； creepers growing up the concrete。 Telephone cables hung down the sides； slit open for their wires。 Wood smoke came from broken windows。 Squatters had taken residence in there。 No fuel； no postal service； no police； no electricity； no phone。 The infrastructure had vanished。 〃What happened？〃 asked Nathan Lee。
〃Mahakala；〃one farmer responded。Mahakala was a wrathful deity。 He was black and ferocious； with a sword of flames to cut down the demons of ignorance。
〃The world is ing to an end；〃 said the other farmer。
〃Was there a war？〃 asked Nathan Lee。
〃No； I just told you。 It just is so。〃 The man shrugged。〃Ke garne？〃 What to do？
They returned to pushing their cart。 The morning fog opened wider。 Sunlight glinted on Swayambunath； the hilltop temple to the west。 People surfaced from their homes。 Freshly paintedtikas on their foreheads were bright and precise like bullseyes。 Men wore tiny devotional flower petals in their hair。 Shopkeepers opened their shutters and peasants laid their winter vegetables in neat rows for sale。 As if the odor of raw meat weren't enough； bright orange goat heads…rubbed with tumeric to keep away flies…advertised a butcher shop。 Chinese bicycles； deathless clunkers； clattered back and forth； bells jingling。
And no one paid the slightest attention to him！Penniless； weak； and bewildered； he began to relax。 Maybe this was a dream； after all。 Maybe he was still lying asleep on his straw mat。
Kathmandu had always been a vortex of centuries swirling upon themselves； the medieval and the modern。 Electric lines threaded among thirteen…tiered temples。 Ancient stone gods peered up from shafts in the asphalt。 What he saw this morning was mostly the medieval。 Video and fax shops； Indian boutiques； carpet andthangka stores： all were closed； their signs ripped away。 The air was rich with spices； smoke； dung； meat； wood shavings； incense。。。everything but the city's infamous smog。 The dinosaur blaring of taxi horns was extinguished。 Time had slowed down。 The world had slipped a cog。
Nathan Lee couldn't shake the feeling of fantasia。 His stomach rumbled。 Kathmandu was huge。 Its temples loomed。 What really threw him was the shift in human scale。 Nepalis had always seemed to him slight and undernourished。 But this morning everyone looked lush and muscular。 His norm had bee emaciated prisoners。
The plaza of Durbar Marg was packed so tightly with cars and buses that it looked like solid metal。 Vehicles had been pushed from the narrow streets into this rusting junkpile among serene pagodas。 He kept moving； letting the tangle of streets guide him。 He had escaped into a city moving backward in time。 Now he had to figure a way to escape time itself。
At the time of his arrest； political parties had been waging street warfare with posters and paint。 Now all the political graffiti had been whitewashed to extinction； replaced by images of their god…king； a youngcaudillo in sunglasses and a pencil moustache。 Had he decreed a return to traditional ways？ That might explain it。
The street wound back and forth。 The city was so quiet！ No radios； no horns； no engine roar。 Here and there little courtyards opened in the walls like separate worlds。 People circled shrines； ringing little temple bells。 Soothsayers and ayurvedic doctors and professional ear cleaners plied their trades on steps beneath temple eaves。
He reached Thamel； the tourist district。 His little expedition with Ochs had started here at the Tibet Guesthouse； a favorite of mountaineers。 It was closed； the metal gates wired together。 He meandered deeper into tourist territory； his stomach pinched with hunger。 This should have been his sanctuary； a place among fellow Americans； brothers of the rope； sympathizers。 But there were no climbers prowling for one…night stands； no adventure…travelers with StairMaster thighs； no package tourists； no money changers； shoeshine boys； or professional beggars。 Trekking shops and bookstores stood shuttered。 Gaudy Christmas tree lights in restaurant windows were dead on the vine。 Led Zeppelin was nowhere in the air。 The whole scene had gone belly…up。
Then he glimpsed a man and woman at the far end of the block。 They were dressed in New Age gypsy clothing。 Her hair was blonde。 The man was pushing a sturdy； green mountain bike。 Westerners！
Nathan Lee didn't call out。 After so many months spent among the whispering lepers； he had bee an untouchable in his own mind。 He hurried to catch them。 His knee ached。 The missing toes forced a rocking； hitched gimp。 He even walked like a leper now。
The woman was draped with half a dozen scarves flowing in the sunbeams。 Their pace was casual。 Her laughter sparkled。 She was smoking a mintbidi。 What for Nathan Lee was a painful； life…and…death pursuit amounted to nothing but a morning stroll for them。
His pursuit slowed。 He was weak。 He lost them。 Then he spied abidi in the gutter still venting mint tendrils。 Spurred on； he found the man's bicycle resting against the wall。 Nathan Lee smelled food。 It was a restaurant of sorts； an old…fashioned； no…nonsensebhaati that probably served nothing but tea； rice and lentils with chicken parts on the bone。 He descended the few steps and bent to enter a room lit with two candles。 It could have been an opium den。
As his eyes adjusted to the dimness； Nathan Lee saw the man and woman。 They were the only customers。 He went toward them and stopped； keeping a respectful distance。 He didn't speak。
Finally the woman said； 〃Ooo are yoo？〃 She was French。 She had rings on her thumbs and fingers。 Her eyes were rimmed
