sk.dreamcatcher-第43部分

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　and　fucking　Jonesy　was　just　standing　there　with　that　roll　of　friction　tape　in　his　hand　and　his　jaw　dropped；　and　goddam　if　he　didn't　look　like　Duddits；　dumb　as　a　stone　boat　and　never　going　to　improve。　Then　the　thing　turned　back　to　Beaver；　its　earless　noseless　node　of　a　head　drawn　back；　and　before　that　head　darted　forward　and　the　world　detonated　for　the　last　time；　Beaver　had　a　final；　partial　thought：　Those　toothpicks；　damn；　Mamma　always　said…
　　　　Then　the　exploding　red　and　blooming　black　and　somewhere　far　off　the　sound　of　his　own　screams；　the　final　ones。


9

Jonesy　saw　Beaver　sitting　in　the　toilet　with　something　that　looked　like　a　giant　red…gold　worm　clinging　to　him。　He　called　out　and　the　thing　turned　toward　him；　no　real　head；　just　the　black　eyes　of　a　shark　and　a　mouthful　of　teeth。　Something　in　the　teeth；　something　that　couldn't　be　the　mangled　remains　of　Beaver　Clarendon's　nose　but　probably　was。
　　　　Run　away！　he　screamed　at　himself；　and　then：　Save　him！　Save　Beaver！
　　　　Both　imperatives　had　equal　power；　and　the　result　kept　him　frozen　in　the　doorway；　feeling　as　if　he　weighed　a　thousand　pounds。　The　thing　in　Beaver's　arms　was　making　a　noise；　a　crazed　chattering　sound　that　got　into　his　head　and　made　him　think　of　something；　something　from　a　long　time　ago；　he　didn't　know　just　what。
　　　　Then　Beaver　was　screaming　at　him　from　his　awkward　sprawl　in　the　toilet；　telling　him　to　get　out；　to　shut　the　door；　and　the　thing　turned　back　to　the　sound　of　his　voice　as　if　recalled　to　temporarily　forgotten　business；　and　it　was　Beaver's　eyes　it　went　for　this　time；　his　fucking　eyes；　Beaver　writhing　and　screaming　and　trying　to　hold　on　as　the　thing　chattered　and　chattered　and　bit；　its　tail　or　whatever　it　was　flexing　and　tightening　around　Beaver's　waist；　pulling　Beaver's　shirt　out　of　his　overalls　and　then　slithering　inside　against　his　bare　skin；　Beaver's　feet　jerking　on　the　tiles；　the　heels　of　his　boots　spraying　bloody　water　in　thin　sheets；　his　shadow　flailing　on　the　wall；　and　that　mossy　stuff　was　everywhere　now；　it　grew　so　fucking　fast…
　　　　Jonesy　saw　Beaver　thrash　backward　in　a　final　throe；　saw　the　thing　let　go　its　grip　and　leap　clear　just　as　the　Beav　rolled　off　the　toilet；　his　upper　half　falling　into　the　tub　on　top　of　McCarthy；　old　Mr　Behold…I…Stand…at…the…Door…and…Knock。　The　thing　hit　the　floor　and　slithered　around　…　Christ；　it　was　quick　…　and　started　toward　him。　Jonesy　took　a　step　backward　and　swept　the　bathroom　door　shut　just　before　the　thing　hit　it；　making　a　thump　almost　exactly　like　the　one　it　had　made　when　it　hit　the　underside　of　the　toilet　seat。　It　hit　hard　enough　to　shiver　the　door　against　the　jamb。　Light　flickered　in　shutters　from　beneath　the　door　as　it　moved　restlessly　on　the　tiles；　and　then　it　slammed　into　the　door　again。　Jonesy's　first　thought　was　to　run　and　get　a　chair；　put　it　under　the　doorknob；　but　how　dumb　was　that；　as　his　kids　said；　how　fucking　brainless；　the　door　opened　in；　not　out。　The　real　question　was　whether　the　thing　understood　the　function　of　the　doorknob；　and　if　it　could　reach　it。
　　　　As　if　it　had　read　his　mind　…　and　who　could　say　that　was　impossible？　…　there　was　a　slithering　sound　on　the　other　side　of　the　door　and　he　felt　the　doorknob　trying　to　turn；　Whatever　the　thing　was；　it　was　incredibly　strong。　Jonesy　had　been　holding　the　knob　with　his　right　hand；　now　he　added　his　left；　as　well。　There　was　a　bad　moment　when　the　pressure　on　the　knob　continued　to　mount；　when　he　felt　sure　the　thing　in　there　would　be　able　to　turn　the　knob　in　spite　of　his　doubled　grip；　and　Jonesy　almost　panicked；　almost　turned　and　ran。
　　　　What　stopped　him　was　his　memory　of　how　quick　it　was。　It'd　run　me　down　before　I　could　get　halfway　across　the　room；　he　thought；　wondering　in　the　back　of　his　mind　why　the　room　had　to　be　so　goddam　big　in　the　first　place。　It'd　run　me　down；　go　up　my　leg；　and　then　right　up　my…
　　　　Jonesy　redoubled　his　grip　on　the　doorknob；　cords　standing　out　on　his　forearms　and　on　the　sides　of　his　neck；　lips　skinned　back　to　show　his　teeth。　His　hip　hurt；　too。　His　goddam　hip；　if　he　did　try　to　run　his　hip　would　slow　him　down　even　more　thanks　to　the　retired　professor；　fucking　elderly　asshole　shouldn't　have　been　driving　in　the　first　place；　thanks　a　lot；　prof；　thanks　a　fucking　pantload；　and　if　he　couldn't　hold　the　door　shut　and　he　couldn't　run；　what　then？
　　　　What　had　happened　to　Beaver；　of　course。　It　had　had　the　Beav's　nose　stuck　in　its　teeth　like　a　shish　kebab。
　　　　Moaning；　Jonesy　held　the　knob。　For　a　moment　the　pressure　increased　even　more；　and　then　it　stopped。　From　behind　the　thin　wood　of　the　door；　the　thing　yammered　angrily。　Jonesy　could　smell　the　ethery　aroma　of　starter　fluid。
　　　　How　was　it　holding　on　in　there？　It　had　no　limbs；　not　that　Jonesy　had　been　able　to　see；　just　that　reddish　tail…thing；　so　how…
　　　　He　heard　the　minute　crackle…crunch…splinter　of　wood　on　the　other　side　of　the　door；　directly　in　front　of　his　own　head　by　the　sound；　and　knew。　It　was　clinging　by　its　teeth。　The　idea　filled　Jonesy　with　unreasoning　horror。　That　thing　had　been　inside　McCarthy；　he　had　absolutely　no　doubt　of　it。　Inside　McCarthy　and　growing　like　a　giant　tapeworm　in　a　horror　movie。　Like　a　cancer；　one　with　teeth。　And　when　it　had　grown　enough；　when　it　was　ready　to　go　to　bigger　and　better　things；　you　might　say；　it　had　simply　chewed　its　way　out。
　　　　'No；　man；　no；'　Jonesy　said　in　a　watery；　almost　weeping　voice。
　　　　The　knob　of　the　bathroom　door　began　trying　to　turn　the　other　way。　Jonesy　could　see　it　in　there；　on　its　side　of　the　bathroom　door；　battened　to　the　wood　like　a　leech　with　its　teeth；　its　tall　or　single　tentacle　wrapped　around　the　doorknob　like　a　loop　ending　in　a　hangman's　noose；　pulling…
　　　　'No；　no；　no；'　Jonesy　panted；　hanging　onto　the　knob　with　all　of　his　strength。　It　was　on　the　verge　of　slipping　away　from　him。　There　was　sweat　on　his　face　and　on　his　Palms；　too；　he　could　feel　it。
　　　　In　front　of　his　bulging；　frightened　eyes；　a　constellation　of　bumps　appeared　in　the　wood。　Those　were　where　its　teeth　were　planted　and　working　deeper　all　the　time。　Soon　the　points　would　burst　through　（if　he　didn't　lose　his　grip　on　the　doorknob　first；　that　was）　and　he'd　actually　have　to　look　at　the　fangs　that　had　torn　his　friend's　nose　off　his　face。
　　　　That　brought　it　home　to　him：　Beaver　was　dead。　His　old　friend。
　　　　'You　killed　him！'　Jonesy　cried　at　the　thing　on　the　other　side　of　the　door。　His　voice　quivered　with　sorrow　and　terror。　'You　killed　the　Beav！'
　　　　His　cheeks　were　hot；　the　tears　which　now　began　to　course　down　them　even　hotter。　Beaver　in　his　black　leather　jacket　（What　a　lot　of　zippers！　Duddits's　Mom　had　said　on　the　day　they　met　her）；　Beaver　next　door　to　shitfaced　at　the　Senior　Prom　and　dancing　like　a　Cossack；　arms　folded　across　his　chest　and　his　feet　kicking；　Beaver　at　Jonesy　and　Carla's　wedding　reception；　hugging　Jonesy　and　whispering　fiercely　in　his　ear；　'You　got　to　be　happy；　man。　You　got　to　be　happy　for　all　of　us。'　And　that　had　been　the　first　he　knew　that　Beaver　wasn't　…　Henry　and　Peter；　of　course；　about　them　there　had　never　been　a　question；　but　the　Beav？　And　now　Beaver　was　dead；　Beaver　was　lying　half　in　and　half　out　of　the　tub；　lying　noseless　on　top　of　Mr　Richard　Fucking　I…Stand…at…the…Door…and…Knock　McCarthy。
　　　　'You　killed　him；　you　fuck！'　he　shouted　at　the　bulges　in　the　door　…　there　had　been　six　of　them　and　now　there　were　nine；　hell；　a　dozen。
　　　　As　if　surprised　by　his　rage；　the　widdershins　pressure　on　the　doorknob　eased　again。　Jonesy　looked　around　wildly　for　anything　that　might　help　him；　saw　nothing；　then　looked　down。　The　roll　of　friction　tape　was　there。　He　might　be　able　to　bend　and　snatch　it　up；　but　then　what？　He　would　need　both　hands　to　pull　lengths　of　tape　off　it；　both　hands　and　his　teeth　to　rip　them；　and　even　supposing　the　thing　gave　him　time；　what　was　the　good　of　it；　when　he　could　barely　hold　the　doorknob　still　against　its　pressure？
　　　　And　now　the　knob　began　to　turn　again。　Jonesy　held　it　on　his　side；　but　he　was　getting　tired　now；　the　adrenaline　in　his　muscles　starting　to　decay　and　turn　to　lead；　his　palms　more　slippery　than　ever；　and　that　smell　the　ethery　smell；　was　clearer　now　and　somehow　purer；　untainted　by　the　wastes　and　gases　of　McCarthy's　body；　and　how　could　it　be　so　strong　on　this　side　of　the　door？　How　could　it　unless…
　　　　In　the　half…second　or