dk.solesurvivor-第4部分

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rf；　the　sun…gilded　and　moon…silvered　relentlessness　of　ining　breakers；　and　the　smooth　liquid　curve　to　the　far　horizon　brought　him　not　any　sense　of　peace；　not　serenity；　but　a　wele　numbness。
　　The　rhythms　of　the　sea　were　all　he　ever　expected　to　know　of　eternity　and　of　God。
　　If　he　drank　a　few　beers　and　let　the　therapeutic　vistas　of　the
　　
　　Pacific　wash　through　him；　he　might　then　be　calm　enough　to　go　to　the　cemetery。　To　stand　upon　the　earth　that　blanketed　his　wife　and　his　daughters。　To　touch　the　stone　that　bore　their　names。
　　This　day；　of　all　days；　he　had　an　obligation　to　the　dead。　Two　teenage　boys；　improbably　thin；　wearing　baggy　swim　trunks　slung　low　on　their　narrow　hips；　ambled　along　the　beach　from　the　north　and　stopped　near　Joe's　towel。　One　wore　his　long　hair　in　a　ponytail；　the　other　in　a　buzz　cut。　Both　were　deeply　browned　by　the　sun。　They　turned　to　gaze　at　the　ocean；　their　backs　to　him；　blocking　his　view。
　　As　Joe　was　about　to　ask　them　to　move　out　of　his　way；　the　kid　with　the　ponytail　said；　'You　holding　anything；　man？'
　　Joe　didn't　answer　because　he　thought；　at　first；　that　the　boy　was　talking　to　his　buzz…cut　friend。
　　'You　holding　anything？'　the　kid　asked　again；　still　staring　at　the　ocean。　'Looking　to　make　a　score　or　move　some　merchandise？'
　　'I've　got　nothing　but　beer；'　Joe　said　impatiently；　tipping　up　his　sunglasses　to　get　a　better　look　at　them；　'and　it's　not　for　sale。'
　　'Well；'　said　the　kid　with　the　buzz　cut；　'if　you　ain't　a　candy　store；　there's　a　couple　guys　watching　sure　think　you　are。'
　　'Where？'
　　'Don't　look　now；'　said　the　boy　with　the　ponytail。　'Wait　till　we　get　some　distance。　We　been　watching　them　watch　you。　They　stink　of　cop　so　bad；　I'm　surprised　you　can't　smell　'em。'
　　The　other　said；　'Fifty　feet　south；　near　the　lifeguard　tower。　Two　dinks　in　Hawaiian　shirts；　look　like　preachers　on　vacation。'
　　'One's　got　binoculars。　One's　got　a　walkie…talkie。'　Bewildered；　Joe　lowered　his　sunglasses　and　said；　'Thanks。'　'Hey；'　said　the　boy　with　the　ponytail；　'just　doing　the　friendly　thing；　man。　We　hate　those　self…righteous　assholes。'
　　With　nihilistic　bitterness　that　sounded　absurd　ing　from　anyone　so　young；　the　kid　with　the　buzz　cut　said；　'Screw　the　system。'
　　As　arrogant　as　young　male　tigers；　the　boys　continued　south　along　the　beach；　checking　out　the　girls。　Joe　had　never　gotten　a　good　look　at　their　faces。
　　A　few　minutes　later；　when　he　finished　his　first　beer；　he　turned；　opened　the　lid　of　the　cooler；　put　away　the　empty　can；　and　looked　nonchalantly　back　along　the　sward。　Two　men　in　Hawaiian　shirts　were　standing　in　the　shadow　of　the　lifeguard　tower。
　　The　taller　of　the　two；　in　a　predominantly　green　shirt　and　white　cotton　slacks；　was　studying　Joe　through　a　pair　of　binoculars。　Alert　to　the　possibility　that　he'd　been　spotted；　he　calmly　turned　with　the　binoculars　to　the　south；　as　if　interested　not　in　Joe　but　in　a　group　of　bikini…clad　teenagers。
　　The　shorter　man　wore　a　shirt　that　was　mostly　red　and　orange。　His　tan　slacks　were　rolled　at　the　cuffs。　He　was　barefoot　in　the　sand；　holding　his　shoes　and　socks　in　his　left　hand。
　　In　his　right　hand；　held　down　at　his　side；　was　another　object；　which　might　be　a　small　radio　or　a　CD　player。　It　might　also　be　a　walkie…talkie。
　　The　tall　guy　was　cancerously　tanned；　with　sun…bleached　blond　hair；　but　the　smaller　man　was　pale；　a　stranger　to　beaches。
　　Popping　the　tab　on　another　beer　and　inhaling　the　fragrant　foamy　mist　that　sprayed　from　the　can；　Joe　turned　to　the　sea　once　more。
　　Although　neither　of　the　men　looked　as　if　he'd　left　home　this　morning　with　the　intention　of　going　to　the　shore；　they　appeared　no　more　out　of　place　than　Joe　did。　The　kids　had　said　that　the　watchers　stank　of　cop；　but　even　though　he'd　been　a　crime　reporter　for　fourteen　years；　Joe　couldn't　catch　the　scent。
　　Anyway；　there　was　no　reason　for　the　police　to　be　interested　in　him。　With　the　murder　rate　soaring；　rape　almost　as　mon　as　romance；　and　robbery　so　prevalent　that　half　the　populace　seemed　to　be　stealing　from　the　other　half；　the　cops　would　not　waste　time　harassing　him　for　drinking　an　alcoholic　beverage　on　a　public　beach。
　　High　on　silent　pinions；　shining　white；　three　sea　gulls　flew　northward　from　the　distant　pier；　at　first　paralleling　the　shoreline。　Then　they　soared　over　the　shimmering　bay　and　wheeled　across　the　sky。
　　Eventually　Joe　glanced　back　toward　the　lifeguard　tower。　The　two　men　were　no　longer　there。
　　He　faced　the　sea　again。
　　Ining　breakers　broke；　spilling　shatters　of　foam　on　the　sand。　He　watched　the　waves　as　a　willing　subject　might　watch　a　hypnotist's　pendant　swinging　on　a　silver　chain。
　　This　time；　however；　the　tides　did　not　mesmerize；　and　he　was　unable　to　guide　his　troubled　mind　into　calmer　currents。　Like　the　effect　of　a　planet　on　its　moon；　the　calendar　pulled　Joe　into　its　orbit；　and　he　couldn't　stop　his　thoughts　from　revolving　around　the　date：
　　August　15；　August　15；　August　15。　This　first　anniversary　of　the　crash　had　an　overwhelming　gravity　that　crushed　him　down　into　memories　of　his　loss。
　　When　the　remains　of　his　wife　and　children　had　been　conveyed　to　him；　after　the　investigation　of　the　crash　and　the　meticulous　cataloguing　of　both　the　organic　and　inorganic　debris；　Joe　was　given　only　fragments　of　their　bodies。　The　sealed　caskets　were　the　size　usually　reserved　for　the　burial　of　infants。　He　received　them　as　if　he　were　taking　possession　of　the　sacred　bones　of　saints　nestled　in　reliquaries。
　　Although　he　understood　the　devastating　effects　of　the　airliner's　impact；　and　though　he　knew　that　an　unsparing　fire　had　flashed　through　the　debris；　how　strange　it　had　seemed　to　Joe　that　Michelle's　and　the　girls'　physical　remains　should　be　so　small。　They　had　been　such　enormous　presences　in　his　life。
　　Without　them；　the　world　seemed　to　be　an　alien　place。　He　didn't　feel　as　if　he　belonged　here　until　he　was　at　least　two　hours　out　of　bed。　Some　days　the　planet　turned　twenty…four　hours　without　rotating　Joe　into　an　acmodation　with　life。　Clearly　this　was　one　of　them。
　　After　he　finished　the　second　Coors；　he　put　the　empty　can　in　the　cooler。　He　wasn't　ready　to　drive　to　the　cemetery　yet；　but　he　needed　to　visit　the　nearest　public　restroom。
　　Joe　rose　to　his　feet；　turned；　and　glimpsed　the　tall　blond　guy　in　the　green　Hawaiian　shirt。　The　man；　without　binoculars　for　the　moment；　was　not　south　near　the　lifeguard　tower　but　north；　about　sixty　feet　away；　sitting　alone　in　the　sand。　To　screen　himself　from　Joe；　he　had　taken　a　position　beyond　two　young　couples　on　blankets　and　a　Mexican　family　that　had　staked　their　territory　with　folding　chairs　and　two　big　yellow…striped　beach　umbrellas。
　　Casually　Joe　scanned　the　surrounding　beach。　The　shorter　of　the　two　possible　cops；　the　one　wearing　the　predominantly　red　shirt；　was　not　in　sight。
　　The　guy　in　the　green　shirt　studiously　avoided　looking　directly　at　Joe。　He　cupped　one　hand　to　his　right　ear；　as　if　were　wearing　a　bad　hearing　aid　and　needed　to　block　the　music　from　the　sun…bathers'　radios　in　order　to　focus　on　something　else　that　he　wanted　to　hear。
　　At　this　distance；　Joe　could　not　be　certain；　but　he　thought　the　man's　lips　were　moving。　He　appeared　to　be　engaged　in　a　conversation　with　his　missing　panion。
　　Leaving　his　towel　and　cooler；　Joe　walked　south　toward　the　public　restrooms。　He　didn't　need　to　glance　back　to　know　that　the　guy　in　the　green　Hawaiian　shirt　was　watching　him。
　　On　reconsideration；　he　decided　that　getting　soused　on　the　sand　probably　was　still　against　the　law；　even　these　days。　After　all；　a　society　with　such　an　enlightened　tolerance　of　corruption　and　savagery　needed　to　bear　down　hard　on　minor　offences　to　convince　itself　that　it　still　had　standards。
　　
　　Nearer　the　pier；　the　crowds　had　grown　since　Joe's　arrival。　In　the　amusement　centre；　the　roller　coaster　clattered。　Riders　squealed。
　　He　took　off　his　sunglasses　as　he　entered　the　busy　public　restrooms。
　　The　men's　lavatory　stank　of　urine　and　disinfectant。　In　the　middle　of　the　floor　between　the　toilet　stalls　and　the　sinks；　a　large　cockroach；　half　crushed　but　still　alive；　hitched　around　and　around　in　a　circle；　having　lost　all　sense　of　direction　and　purpose。　Everyone　avoided　it…some　with　amusement；　some　with　disgust　or　indifference。
　　After