sk.dreamcatcher-第149部分

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　　　　The　sound　of　the　gun　was　deafening。　A　huge　ragged　hole　appeared　where　the　gasoline　port　had　been；　but　for　a　moment　there　was　nothing　else。　So　much　for　the　Hollywood　version　of　how　shit　like　this　works；　Henry　thought；　and　then　heard　a　hoarse　whisper　of　sound；　rising　to　a　throaty　hiss。　He　took　two　steps　backward　and　his　feet　shot　out　from　under　him　again。　This　time　falling　quite　likely　saved　his　eyesight　and　perhaps　his　life。　The　back　of　Kurtz's　Humvee　exploded　only　a　second　later；　fire　lashing　out　from　underneath　in　big　yellow　petals。　The　rear　tires　jumped　out　of　the　snow。　Glass　sprayed　through　the　snowy　air；　all　of　it　going　over　Henry's　head。　Then　the　heat　began　to　bake　him　and　he　crawled　away　rapidly；　dragging　the　carbine　by　its　strap　and　laughing　wildly。　There　was　a　second　explosion　and　the　air　was　filled　with　whirling　hooks　of　shrapnel。
　　　　Henry　got　to　his　feet　like　a　man　climbing　a　ladder；　using　the　lower　branches　of　a　handy　tree　as　rungs。　He　stood；　panting　and　laughing；　legs　aching；　back　aching；　neck　with　an　odd　sprung　feeling。　The　entire　back　half　of　Kurtz's　Humvee　was　engulfed　in　flames。　He　could　hear　the　thing　inside；　chattering　furiously　as　it　burned。
　　　　He　made　a　wide　circle　to　the　passenger　side　of　the　blazing　Humvee　and　aimed　the　carbine　at　the　broken　window。　He　stood　there　for　a　moment；　frowning；　then　realized　why　this　seemed　so　stupid。　All　the　windows　in　the　Humvee　were　broken　now；　all　the　glass　but　the　windshield。　He　began　to　laugh　again。　What　a　dork　he　was！　What　a　total　dork！
　　　　Through　the　hell　of　flames　in　the　Humvee's　cabin；　he　could　still　see　the　weasel　lurching　back　and　forth　like　a　drunk。　How　many　rounds　did　he　have　left　in　the　clip　if　the　fucking　thing　did　e　out？　Fifty？　Twenty？　Five？　However　many　rounds　there　were；　it　would　have　to　be　enough。　He　wouldn't　risk　retreating　to　Owen's　Humvee　for　another　clip。
　　　　But　the　thing　never　came　out。
　　　　Henry　stood　guard　for　five　minutes；　then　stretched　it　to　ten。　The　snow　fell　and　the　Humvee　burned；　pouring　black　smoke　into　the　white　sky。　Henry　stood　there　thinking　of　the　Derry　Days　Parade；　Gary　U。S。　Bonds　singing　'New　Orleans'；　and　here　es　a　tall　man　on　stilts；　here　es　the　legendary　cowboy；　and　how　excited　Duddits　had　been；　jumping　right　up　and　down。　Thinking　of　Pete；　standing　outside　DJHS；　hands　cupped；　pretending　to　smoke；　waiting　for　the　rest　of　them。　Pete；　whose　plan　had　been　to　captain　NASA's　first　manned　Mars　expedition。　Thinking　of　Beaver　and　his　Fonzie　jacket；　Beav　and　his　toothpicks；　Beav　singing　to　Duddits；　Baby's　boat's　a　silver　dream。　Beav　hugging　Jonesy　at　Jonesy's　wedding　and　saying　Jonesy　had　to　be　happy；　he　had　to　be　happy　for　all　of　them。
　　　　Jonesy。
　　　　When　Henry　was　absolutely　sure　the　weasel　was　dead　…　incinerated　…　he　started　up　the　path　to　see　if　Jonesy　was　still　alive。　He　didn't　hold　out　much　hope　of　that　。　。　。　but　he　discovered　he　hadn't　given　up　hope；　either。


33

Only　pain　pinned　Jonesy　to　the　world；　and　at　first　he　thought　the　haggard；　sooty…cheeked　man　kneeling　beside　him　had　to　be　a　dream；　or　a　final　figment　of　his　imagination。　Because　the　man　appeared　to　be　Henry。
　　　　'Jonesy？　Hey；　Jonesy；　are　you　there？'　Henry　snapped　his　fingers　in　front　of　Jonesy's　eyes。　'Earth　to　Jonesy。'
　　　　'Henry；　is　it　you？　Is　it　really？'
　　　　'It's　me；'　Henry　said。　He　glanced　at　the　dog　still　partly　stuck　into　the　crack　at　the　top　of　Shaft　12；　then　back　at　Jonesy。　He　brushed　Jonesy's　sweat…soaked　hair　off　his　forehead　with　infinite　tenderness。
　　　　'Man；　it　took　you　。　。　。'　Jonesy　began；　and　then　the　world　wavered。　He　closed　his　eyes；　concentrated　hard；　then　opened　them　again。　'　。　。　。　took　you　long　enough　to　get　back　from　the　store。　Did　you　remember　the　bread'　'
　　　　'Yeah；　but　I　lost　the　hot　dogs。'
　　　　'What　a　fuckin　pisser。'　Jonesy　took　a　long　and　wavering　breath。
　　　　'I'll　go　myself；　next　time。'
　　　　'Kiss　my　bender；　pal；'　Henry　said；　and　Jonesy　slipped　into　darkness　smiling。

E　P　I　L　O　G　U　E

LABOR　DAY




　　　The　universe；　she　is　a　bitch。
　　　…　Norman　Maclean

Another　summer　down　the　tubes；　Henry　thought。
　　　　There　was　nothing　sad　about　the　thought；　though；　summer　had　been　good；　and　fall　would　be　good；　too。　No　hunting　this　year；　and　there　would　undoubtedly　be　the　occasional　visit　from　his　new　military　friends　（his　new　military　friends　wanted　to　be　sure　above　all　things　that　he　wasn't　growing　any　red　foliage　on　his　skin）；　but　fall　would　be　good　just　the　same。　Cool　air；　bright　days；　long　nights。
　　　　Sometimes；　in　the　post…midnight　hours　of　his　nights；　Henry's　old　friend　still　came　to　visit；　but　when　it　did；　he　simply　sat　up　in　his　study　with　a　book　in　his　lap　and　waited　for　it　to　go　again。　Eventually　it　always　did。　Eventually　the　sun　always　came　up。　The　sleep　you　didn't　get　one　night　sometimes　came　to　you　on　the　next；　and　then　it　came　like　a　lover。　This　was　something　he'd　learned　since　last　November。
　　　　He　was　drinking　a　beer　on　the　porch　of　Jonesy　and　Carla's　cottage　in　Ware；　the　one　on　the　shore　of　Pepper　Pond。　The　south　end　of　the　Quabbin　Reservoir　was　about　four　miles　northwest　of　where　he　sat。　And　East　Street；　of　course。
　　　　The　hand　holding　the　can　of　Coors　only　had　three　fingers。　He'd　lost　the　two　on　the　end　to　frostbite；　perhaps　while　skiing　out　the　Deep　Cut　Road　from　Hole　in　the　Wall；　perhaps　while　dragging　Jonesy　back　to　the　remaining　Humvee　on　a　lashed…together　travois。　Last　fall　had　been　his　season　to　drag　people　through　the　snow；　it　seemed；　and　with　mixed　results。　　　　
　　　　Near　the　little　scrape　of　beach；　Carla　Jones　was　tending　a　barbecue。　Noel；　the　baby；　was　toddling　around　the　picnic　table　to　her　left；　diaper　sagging。　He　was　waving　a　charred　hot　dog　cheerily　in　one　hand。　The　other　three　Jones　kids；　ranging　in　ages　from　eleven　to　three；　were　in　the　water；　splashing　around　and　yelling　at　each　other。　Henry　supposed　there　might　be　some　value　to　that　Biblical　imperative　about　being　fruitful　and　multiplying；　but　it　seemed　to　him　that　Jonesy　and　Carla　had　taken　it　to　absurd　lengths。　　　　
　　　　Behind　him；　the　screen　door　clapped。　Jonesy　came　out；　carrying　a　bucket　filled　with　iced　beers。　His　limp　wasn't　all　that　bad；　this　time　the　doc　had　just　said　fuck　the　original　equipment　and　had　replaced　the　whole　thing　with　steel　and　Teflon。　It　would　have　e　to　that；　anyway；　the　doc　had　told　Jonesy；　but　if　you'd　been　a　little　more　careful；　Chief；　you　could've　gotten　another　five　years　out　of　the　old　one。　He'd　had　the　operation　in　February；　shortly　after　Henry　and　Jonesy's　six…week　'vacation'　with　the　military　intelligence　and　Psy0ps　people　had　ended。
　　　　The　military　folks　had　offered　to　throw　in　the　hip　replacement　courtesy　of　Uncle　Sam　…　sort　of　a　coda　to　their　debriefing　…　but　Jonesy　had　refused　with　thanks；　saying　he　wouldn't　want　to　deprive　his　own　orthopedist　of　the　work；　or　his　insurance　pany　of　the　bill。
　　　　By　then；　all　the　two　of　them　had　wanted　was　to　get　out　of　Wyoming。　The　apartments　were　nice　（if　you　could　get　used　to　living　underground；　that　was）；　the　food　was　four…star　（Jonesy　put　on　ten　pounds；　Henry　close　to　twenty）；　and　the　movies　were　always　first…run。　The　atmosphere；　however；　was　just　a　teensy　bit　on　the　Dr　Strangelove　side。　For　Henry；　those　six　weeks　had　been　infinitely　worse　than　they　had　been　for　Jonesy。　Jonesy　suffered；　but　mostly　with　his　derailed　hip；　his　memories　of　sharing　a　body　with　Mr　Gray　had　faded　to　the　consistency　of　dreams　in　a　remarkably　short　space　of　time。
　　　　Henry's　memories；　on　the　other　hand；　had　only　grown　stronger。　Those　of　the　barn　were　the　worst。　The　debriefers　had　been　passionate；　not　a　Kurtz　in　the　bunch；　but　Henry　couldn't　block　his　thoughts　of　Bill　and　Marsha　and　Darren　Chiles；　Mr　Bomber…Joint…from…Newton。　They　often　came　to　visit　in　his　dreams。
　　　　So　did　Owen　Underhill。
　　　　'Reinforcements；'　Jonesy　said；　setting　the　bucket　of　beer　down。　He　then　lowered　himself　into　the　sagging　cane…bottomed　rocker　beside　Henry　with　a　grunt　and　a　grimace。
　　　　'One　more　and　I'm　done；'　Henry　said。　'I'm　driving　back　to　Portland　in　an　hour　or　so；　and　an　OUI　I　don't　need。'
　　　　'Stay　the　night；'　Jonesy　said；　watching　Noel。　The　baby　had　plumped　down　on　the　grass　beneath　the　picnic　table　and　now　seemed　intent　upon　inserting　the　remains　of　his　hot　dog　into　his　navel。
　　　　'With　your　kids　squ