dk.coldfire-第76部分

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　Maybe　that　was　a　good　sign；　an　indication　of　his　subconscious　acmodation　to　her　theory。　Or　maybe　The　Enemy　had　decided　that　she　could　not　be　intimidated　with　threats…and　was　struggling　to　burst　through　and　savage　her。　
　She　said；　〃When　it's　killed　me；　you'll　realize　it　is　part　of　you。　
　And　if　you　love　me；　like　you　told　me　you　did　through　The　Friend　last　night；　then　what's　that　going　to　do　to　you？　Isn't　that　going　to　destroy　the　Jim　I　love？　Isn't　that　going　to　leave　you　with　just　one　personality…the　dark　one；　The　Enemy？　I　think　it's　a　damned　good　bet。　So　we're　talking　your　survival　here　as　well　as　mine。　If　you　want　to　have　a　future；　then　let's　dig　to　the　bottom　of　this。〃　
　〃Maybe　we　dig　and　dig…but　there　is　no　bottom。　Then　what？〃　〃Then　we　dig　a　little　deeper。〃　
　As　they　were　entering　town；　making　the　abrupt　transition　from　deadbrown　land　to　tightly　grouped　pioneer　settlement；　Holly　suddenly　said　aloud：　〃Robert　Vaughn。〃　
　Jim　twitched　with　surprise；　not　because　she　had　said　something　mystifying　but　because　that　name　made　an　immediate　connection　for　him。　
　〃My　God；〃　he　said；　〃that　was　the　voice。〃　
　〃The　voice　of　The　Friend；〃　she　said；　glancing　at　him。　〃So　you　realized　it　was　familiar；　too。〃　
　Robert　Vaughn；　the　wonderful　actor；　had　been　the　hero　of　television's　The　Man　from　U。N。C。L。E。　and　exquisitely　oily　villain　of　countless　films。　
　He　possessed　one　of　those　voices　with　such　a　rich　timbre　and　range　that　it　could　be　as　threatening；　or　as　fatherly　and　reassuring；　as　he　chose　to　make　it。　
　〃Robert　Vaughn；〃　Holly　said。　〃But　why？　Why　not　Orson　Welles　or　Paul　Newman　or　Sean　Connery　or　Fred　Flintstone？　It's　too　quirky　a　choice　not　to　be　meaningful。〃　
　〃I　don't　know；〃　Jim　said　thoughtfully；　but　he　had　the　unnerving　feeling　he　should　know。　The　explanation　was　within　his　grasp。　
　Holly　said；　〃Do　you　still　think　it's　an　alien？　Wouldn't　an　alien　just　manufacture　a　nondescript　voice？　Why　would　it　imitate　any　one　particular　actor？〃　〃I　saw　Robert　Vaughn　once；〃　Jim　said；　surprised　by　a　dim　memory　stirring　within　him。　〃I　mean；　not　on　TV　or　in　the　movies；　but　for　real；　up　close。　A　long　time　ago。〃　
　〃Where；　when？〃　〃I　can't。　。　。　it　won't。　。　。　won't　e　to　me。〃　
　Jim　felt　as　if　he　were　standing　on　a　narrow　spine　of　land　between　two　precipices；　with　safety　to　neither　side。　On　the　one　hand　was　the　life　he　had　been　living；　filled　with　torment　and　despair　that　he　had　tried　to　deny　but　that　had　overwhelmed　him　at　times；　as　when　he　had　taken　his　spiritual　journey　on　the　Harley　into　the　Mojave　Desert；　looking　for　a　way　out　even　if　the　way　was　death。　On　the　other　hand　lay　an　uncertain　future　that　Holly　was　trying　to　paint　in　for　him；　a　future　that　she　insisted　was　one　of　hope　but　which　looked　to　him　like　chaos　and　madness。　
　And　the　narrow　spine　on　which　he　stood　was　crumbling　by　the　minute。　
　He　remembered　an　exchange　they'd　had　as　they　lay　side　by　side　in　his　bed　two　nights　ago；　before　they　had　made　love　for　the　first　time。　
　He'd　said；　People　are　always　more。　。　。　plex　than　you　figure。　
　Is　that　just　an　observation。　。　。　or　a　warning？　Warning？　Maybe　you　're　warning　me　that　you　're　not　what　you　seem　to　be。　
　After　a　long　pause；　he　had　said；　Maybe。　
　And　after　her　own　long　pause；　she　had　said；　I　guess　I　don　't　care。　
　He　was　sure；　now；　that　he　had　been　warning　her。　A　small　voice　within　told　him　that　she　was　right　in　her　analysis；　that　the　entities　at　the　mill　had　only　been　different　aspects　of　him。　But　if　he　was　a　victim　of　multiple　personality　syndrome；　he　did　not　believe　that　his　condition　could　be　casually　described　as　a　mere　mental　disturbance　or　a　troubled　state　of　mind；　as　she　had　tried　to　portray　it。　Madness　was　the　only　word　that　did　it　justice。　
　They　entered　Main　Street。　The　town　looked　strangely　dark　and　threatening…perhaps　because　it　held　the　truth　that　would　force　him　to　step　off　his　narrow　mental　perch　into　one　world　of　chaos　or　another。　
　He　remembered　reading　somewhere　that　only　mad　people　were　dead　certain　of　their　sanity。　He　was　dead…certain　of　nothing；　but　he　took　no　fort　from　that。　Madness　was；　he　suspected；　the　very　essence　of　uncertainty　；　a　frantic　but　fruitless　search　for　answers；　for　solid　ground。　
　Sanity　was　that　place　of　certainty　above　the　whirling　chaos。　
　Holly　pulled　to　the　curb　in　front　of　Handahl's　Pharmacy　at　the　east　end　of　Main　Street。　〃Let's　start　here。〃　
　first　〃Why？〃　〃Because　it's　the　first　stop　we　made　when　you　were　pointing　out　places　that　had　meant　something　to　you　as　a　kid。〃　
　He　stepped　out　of　the　Ford　under　the　canopy　of　a　Wilson　magnolia；　one　of　several　interspersed　with　other　trees　along　both　sides　of　the　street。　
　That　landscaping　softened　the　hard　edges　but　contributed　to　the　unnatural　look　and　discordant　feeling　of　the　town。　
　When　Holly　pushed　open　the　front　door　of　the　Danish…style　building；　its　two　glass　panes　glimmered　like　jewels　along　their　beveled　edges；　and　a　bell　had　tinkled　overhead。　They　went　inside　together。　
　but　Jim's　heart　was　hammering。　Not　because　the　pharmacy　seemed　likely　to　actually　be　a　place　where　anything　significant　had　happened　to　him　in　his　children　hood；　but　because　he　sensed　it　was　the　first　step　on　a　path　to　the　truth。　
　The　cafe　and　soda　fountain　were　to　the　left；　and　through　the　archway　Jim　saw　a　few　people　at　breakfast。　Immediately　inside　the　door　was　the　small　newsstand；　where　morning　papers　were　stacked　high；　mostly　the　Santa　Barbara　daily；　there　were　also　magazines；　and　to　one　side　a　revolving　wire　rack　filled　with　paperback　books。　
　〃I　used　to　buy　paperbacks　here；〃　he　said。　〃I　loved　books　even　back　then　couldn't　get　enough　of　them。〃　
　The　pharmacy　was　through　another　archway　to　the　right。　It　resembled　any　modern　American　pharmacy　in　that　it　stocked　more　cosmetics；　beauty　aids；　and　hair…care　products　than　patent　medicines。　
　Otherwise；　it　was　pleasantly　quaint：　wood　shelves　instead　of　metal　or　fiberboard；　polished　granite　counters；　an　appealing　aroma　posed　of　Bayberry　candles；　nickle　candy；　cigar…tobacco　efiluvium　filtering　from　the　humidified　case　in　behind　the　cash　register；　faint　traces　of　ethyl　alcohol；　and　sundry　pharmaceuticals。　
　Though　the　hour　was　early；　the　pharmacist　was　on　duty；　serving　as　his　own　checkout　clerk。　It　was　Corbett　Handahl　himself；　a　heavy　wide…shouldered；　man　with　a　white　mustache　and　white　hair；　wearing　a　crisp　blue　starched。　shirt　under　his　starched　white　lab　jacket。　
　He　looked　up　and　said；　〃Jim　Ironheart；　bless　my　soul。　How　long's　it　been…at　least　three；　four　years？〃　They　shook　hands。　
　dead…　〃Four　years　and　four　months；〃　Jim　said。　He　almost　added；　since　grandpa　died；　but　checked　himself　without　quite　knowing　why。　
　Spritzing　the　granite　prescription…service　counter　with　Windex；　Corbett　Handahl　wiped　it　with　paper　towels。　He　smiled　at　Holly。　
　〃And　whoever　you　are；　I　am　eternally　grateful　to　you　for　bringing　beauty　into　this　gray　morning。〃　
　Corbett　was　the　perfect　smalltown　pharmacist：　just　jovial　enough　to　seem　like　ordinary　folks　in　spite　of　being　placed　in　the　town's　upper　social　class　by　virtue　of　his　occupation；　enough　of　a　tease　to　be　something　of　a　local　character；　but　with　an　unmistakable　air　of　petence　and　probity　that　made　you　feel　the　medicines　he　pounded　would　always　be　safe。　
　Townfolk　stopped　in　just　to　say　hello；　not　only　when　they　needed　something；　and　his　genuine　interest　in　people　served　his　merce。　He　had　been　working　at　the　pharmacy　for　thirty…three　years　and　had　been　the　owner　since　his　father's　death　twenty…seven　years　ago。　
　Handahl　was　the　least　threatening　of　men；　yet　Jim　suddenly　felt　threatened　by　him。　He　wanted　to　get　out　of　the　pharmacy　before。　。　。　
　Before　what？　Before　Handahl　said　the　wrong　thing；　revealed　too　much。　
　But　what　could　he　reveal？　〃I'm　Jim's　fiancee；〃　Holly　said；　somewhat　to　Jim's　surprise。　
　〃Congratulations；　Jim；〃　Handahl　said。　〃You're　a　lucky　man。　Young　lady；　I　just　hope　you　know；　the　family　changed　its　name　from　Ironhead；　which　was　more　descriptive。　Stubborn　group。〃　He　winked　and　laughed。　
　Holly　said；　〃Jim's　taking　me　around　town；　showing　me　favorite　places　Sentimental　journey；　I　suppose　you'd　call　it。〃　
　Frowning　at　Jim；　Handahl　said；　〃Didn't　think　you　ever　liked　this　town　well　enough　to　feel　sentimental　abou