cp.reddice-第8部分

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lways　have　exceptional　senses　of　smell。
　　I　am　grateful　for　this　newfound　sense　because　I　can　accurately　trail　the　military　parade　from　a　great　distance。　These　people　are　not　stupid…they　will　check　to　see　if　they　are　being　followed。　Once　again　I　am　struck　by　my　ability　to　sense　their　thoughts。　I　have　always　been　able　to　discern　emotions　in　mortals；　but　never　ideas。　Yaksha　must　have　been　an　outright　mind　reader。　He　never　told　me。　I　know　for　sure　the　people　up　ahead　are　checking　their　backs。　I　allow　the　distance　between　us　to　grow　to　as　much　as　fifteen　miles。　Naturally　I　drive　with　the　lights　out。
　　At　first　the　group　heads　in　the　direction　of　Las　Vegas。　Then；　five　miles　outside　the　City　of　Sin；　they　turn　east　onto　a　narrow　paved　road。　The　column　stretches　out　and　I　have　to　stay　even　farther　back。　There　are　many　signs：　RESTRICTED　AREA。　I　believe　we　are　headed　to　some　sort　of　government　base。
　　My　hunch　is　confirmed　less　than　an　hour　later。　Approximately　fifty　miles　outside　of　Las　Vegas；　the　armored　vehicle　carrying　Joel　disappears　into　an　elaborately　defended　camp。　I　speed　up　and　take　my　Bronco　off　the　road；　parking　it　behind　a　hill　a　mile　from　both　the　road　and　the　camp。　On　foot；　I　scamper　toward　the　installation；　growing　more　amazed　with　every　step　at　how　plex　and　impenetrable　it　appears。　The　surrounding　fence　is　over　a　hundred　feet　high；　topped　with　billowy　coils　of　barbed　wire。　Ordinarily　I　could　jump　such　a　barrier　without　breaking　a　sweat。　Unfortunately；　the　place　has　manned　towers　equipped　with　machine　guns　and　grenade　launchers　every　two　hundred　feet。　That's　a　lot　of　towers。　The　pound　is　huge；　at　least　a　half　mile　across。　In　addition　to　the　towers　and　fence；　there　is　a　densely　packed　maze　of　three…foot　high　electronic　devices…　they　resemble　metal　baseball　bats…stretched　along　the　perimeter。　I　suspect　that　if　tripped　they　emit　a　paralyzing　field。　Vampires　are　sensitive　to　electricity。　I　was　once　hit　by　a　bolt　of　lightning　and　spent　the　next　three　days　recovering　in　a　coffin。　My　boyfriend　at　the　time　wanted　to　bury　me。
　　One　side　of　the　pound　is　devoted　almost　exclusively　to　a　concrete　runway。　I　remember　reading　about　a　top…secret　government　installation　in　the　desert　outside　of　Las　Vegas　that　supposedly　tests　advanced　fighter　craft；　nuclear　weapons；　and　biological　weapons。　I　have　a　sneaking　suspicion　that　I　am　looking　at　it。　The　pound　backs　into　a　large　barren　hill；　and　I　believe　the　military　has　mined　deep　into　the　natural　slope　to　perform　experiments　best　hidden　from　the　eyes　of　spy　satellites。
　　There　are　Sherman　tanks　and　Apache　helicopters　parked　close　to　barrack…like　structures。　No　doubt　the　weapons　can　be　manned　in　ten　seconds。　One　thing　is　immediately　clear　to　me。
　　I　will　not　be　able　to　break　into　the　pound。
　　Not　and　get　out　alive。
　　The　armored　vehicle　carrying　Joel　has　halted　near　the　center　of　the　pound。　Armed　soldiers　scurry　to　line　up　around　it；　their　weapons　drawn　and　leveled。　A　cruel…faced　general　with　a　single　star　on　his　shoulder　and　death　in　his　eyes　approaches　the　vehicle。　Behind　him　is　a　group　of　white…clad　scientists…just　what　I　don't　want　to　see。　The　general　signals　to　somebody　out　of　view　and　the　side　door　on　the　armored　vehicle　swings　open。　Heavily　chained；　his　shoulders　bowed　down；　Joel　is　brought　into　the　open。　The　general　approaches　him；　strangely　unafraid；　and　searches　him。　Then　he　glances　over　his　shoulder。　Several　of　the　scientists　seem　to　nod。　I　don't　understand　the　exchange。　What　are　they　approving？　That　Joel　is　a　genuine　vampire？　They　don't　know　about　vampires。
　　〃Or　do　they？〃　I　whisper。
　　But　it's　not　possible。　For　the　last　two　thousand　years　or　more；　Yaksha　and　I　were　the　only　vampires　on　earth。　Recently　there　have　been　others；　of　course。　But　Ray's　conversion　was　short…lived；　Eddie　was　a　psychotic　aberration；　and　I　destroyed　all　of　Eddie's　offspring。
　　Or　did　I？
　　This　general　wanted　us　taken　alive；　I　realize。　He's　the　one　who　gave　the　order　to　the　Apache　pilots。　They　waited　a　long　time　before　they　used　their　rockets；　and　then　only　when　they　were　forced　to。　In　fact；　the　general　is　probably　angry　that　they　used　them　at　all。　The　way　he's　studying　Joel…it's　almost　as　if　he's　gloating。　The　general　wants　something　from　Joel；　and　he　knows　what　it　is。
　　Joel　is　taken　inside　a　building。
　　The　general　confers　with　one　scientist　and　then　they；　too；　go　inside。
　　I　sit　back　and　groan。　〃Damn。〃
　　My　objective　is　dear。　I　have　to　get　Joel　out　of　the　pound　before　they　can　perform　extensive　tests　on　him…more　specifically；　before　they　can　analyze　his　blood。　I'm　not　even　sure　what　they　will　find；　but　whatever　they　discover；　it　won't　bode　well　for　the　long…term　survival　of　the　human　race。
　　But　I　cannot　force　my　way　inside。　Therefore；　I　must　sneak　in。　How　do　I　do　that？　Make　friends　with　the　guards？　Seduce　Mr。　Machine　Gun　Mike？　The　idea　may　not　be　as　farfetched　as　it　seems　with　my　magnetic　personality　and　hypnotic　eyes。　But　from　what　I　can　see；　all　the　men　live　at　the　pound。　This　is　unfortunate。
　　I　glance　in　the　direction　of　Las　Vegas；　neon　fallout　on　the　horizon。
　　〃But　the　boys　must　leave　the　pound　and　go　out　on　the　town　now　and　then；〃　I　mutter。
　　It　is　two　hours　before　dawn。　While　I　study　the　pound　with　my　powerful　eyes；　searching　for　a　vulnerable　spot；　I　see　the　scientist　whom　the　general　conferred　with　climb　into　an　ordinary　car。　He　stops　at　a　checkpoint　before　exiting　the　pound。　By　then　I　am　running　for　my　Bronco。
　　I　want　to　talk　to　this　scientist。
　　As　I　climb　in　my　stolen　vehicle；　I　notice　that　my　arms　and　hands　are　glowing　with　a　faint　white　light。　The　effect　stuns　me。　My　face　is　also　glowing！　In　fact；　all　my　exposed　skin　shines　with　the　same　iridescence　as　the　full　moon；　which　hangs　low　in　the　sky　in　the　direction　of　Las　Vegas。
　　〃What　kind　of　radiation　are　they　fooling　with　out　here？〃　I　mutter。
　　I　decide　to　worry　about　it　later。
　　The　scientist　is　a　speed　demon。　He　drives　close　to　a　hundred　all　the　way　to　Las　Vegas；　or　at　least　until　he　hits　the　public　highway；　five　miles　outside　the　town。　I　push　the　Bronco　to　keep　up。　I　suppose　no　cop　will　give　him　a　ticket　on　a　government　road。　It　is　my　hope　he　lives　in　Vegas；　but　when　he　goes　straight　to　the　Mirage　Hotel；　my　hopes　sink。　He's　probably　just　out　for　a　few　hours　of　fun。
　　I　park　near　him　in　the　lot　and　prepare　to　follow　him　inside。
　　Then　I　remember　what　I　am　wearing。
　　A　ripped　flak　jacket　and　bloody　clothes。
　　I　do　not　panic。　The　people　I　stole　the　Bronco　from　are　on　vacation。　They　will　have；　I'm　sure；　ladies'　clothes　somewhere　in　the　vehicle。　Lo　and　behold；　in　the　back　I　find　a　pair　of　blue　jeans；　two　sizes　too　big；　and　a　black　Mickey　Mouse　sweatshirt　that　fits　like　a　wet　suit。　Luckily；　the　blood　and　glass　washed　out　of　my　hair　while　I　slept　beneath　Lake　Mead。　Standing　in　a　dark　corner　of　the　parking　lot；　I　change　quickly。
　　I　find　the　scientist　inside　at　the　dice　table。
　　He　is　an　attractive　man；　perhaps　forty…five；　with　thick　black　hair　and　large　sensual　lips。　His　face　is　sun　dried；　tanned　and　lined；　yet　on　him　the　effect　is　not　unpleasant。　He　looks　like　a　man　who　has　weathered　many　storms　and　e　out　ahead。　His　gray　eyes　are　deep　set；　very　alert；　focused。　He　has　discarded　his　white　lab　coat　for　a　nicely　tailored　sports　coat。　He　is　holding　a　pair　of　red　dice　as　I　enter；　and　it　seems　to　me　that　he　is　secretly　willing　them　to　obey　his　mands；　as　so　many　other　gamblers　do。
　　He　fails　to　throw　a　pass；　a　seven；　or　an　eleven。　He　loses　his　bet　and　the　dice　pass　to　another　player。　I　note　that　he　had　a　hundred…dollar　chip　on　the　table；　not　a　small　bet　for　a　scientist　on　the　government　payroll。　I　am　surprised　when　he　lays　down　another　hundred　dollars。　He　loses　that　as　well。
　　I　observe　the　man　for　forty…five　minutes。　He　is　a　regular…one　of　the　pit　bosses　calls　him　Mr。　Kane；　another；　Andy。　Andrew　Kane；　I　think。　Because　Andy　continues　to　lose；　at　an　alarming　rate；　he　is　forced　to　sign　a　slip　to　get　more　chips　when　the　cash　in　his　pockets　is　gone。　But　these　black　honeybees　vanish　rapidly；　and　his　eagerness　turns　to　frustration。　I　have　been　counting。　Two　thousand　dollars　gone…just　like　that。　Sighing；　he　leaves　the　table　and；　after　a　double　scotch　at　the　bar；　leaves　t