sk.thegunslinger-第30部分

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The　gunslinger　and　Cuthbert　looked　at　each　other。　They　had　always　been　the　closest　　or　as　close　as　they　could　be　under　the　particular　shades　of　their　characters。　There　was　a　speculative；　open　light　in　Cuthbert's　eyes；　and　the　gunslinger　controlled　only　with　great　difficulty　the　need　to　tell　him　not　to　call　for　the　test　for　a　year　or　even　eighteen　months；　lest　he　go　west。　But　they　had　been　through　a　great　deal　together；　and　the　gunslinger　did　not　feel　he　could　risk　it　without　an　expression　that　might　be　taken　for　patronization。　I've　begun　to　scheme；　he　thought；　and　was　a　little　dismayed。　Then　he　thought　of　Marten；　of　his　mother；　and　he　smiled　a　deceiver's　smile　at　his　friend。
I　am　to　be　the　first；　he　thought；　knowing　it　for　the　first　time；　although　he　had　thought　of　it（in　a　bemused　way）　many　times　before。　I　am　to　be　first
〃Let's　go；〃　he　said。
〃With　pleasure；　gunslinger。〃
They　left　by　the　east　end　of　the　hedge…bordered　corridor；　Thomas　and　Jamie　were　returning　with　the　nurses　already。　They　looked　like　ghosts　in　their　heavy　white　robes；　crossed　at　the　breast　with　red。
〃Shall　I　help　you　with　the　hawk？〃　Cuthbert　asked。
〃Yes；〃　the　gunslinger　said。
And　later；　when　darkness　had　e　and　the　rushing　thundershowers　with　it；　while　huge；　phantom　caissons　rolled　across　the　sky　and　lightning　washed　the　crooked　streets　of　the　lower　town　in　blue　fire；　while　horses　stood　at　hitching　rails　with　their　heads　down　and　their　tails　drooping；　the　gunslinger　took　a　woman　and　lay　with　her。
It　was　quick　and　good。　When　it　was　over　and　they　lay　side　by　side　without　speaking；　it　began　to　hail　with　a　brief；　rattling　ferocity。　Downstairs　and　far　away；　someone　was　playing　Hey　Jude　ragtime。　The　gunslinger's　mind　turned　reflectively　inward。　It　was　in　that　hail…splattered　silence；　just　before　sleep　overtook　him；　that　he　first　thought　that　he　might　also　be　the　last。
The　gunslinger　did　not；　of　course；　tell　the　boy　all　of　this；　but　perhaps　most　of　it　had　e　through　anyway。　He　had　already　realized　that　this　was　an　extremely　perceptive　boy；　not　so　different　from　Cuthbert；　or　even　Jamie。
〃You　asleep？〃　the　gunslinger　asked。
〃No。〃
〃Did　you　understand　what　I　told　you？〃
〃Understand　it？〃　The　boy　asked；　with　cautious　scorn。　〃Understand　it？　Are　you　kidding？〃
〃No。〃　But　the　gunslinger　felt　defensive。　He　had　never　told　anyone　about　his　ing　of　age　before；　because　he　felt　ambivalent　about　it。　Of　course；　the　hawk　had　been　a　perfectly　acceptable　weapon；　yet　it　had　been　a　trick；　too。　And　a　betrayal。　The　first　of　many：　Am　I　readying　to　throw　this　boy　at　the　man　in　black？
〃I　understood　it；〃　the　boy　said。　〃It　was　a　game；　wasn't　it？　Do　grown　men　always　have　to　play　games？　Does　everything　have　to　be　an　excuse　for　another　kind　of　game？　Do　any　men　grow　up　or　do　they　only　e　of　age？〃
〃You　don't　know　everything；〃　the　gunslinger　said；　trying　to　hold　his　slow　anger。
〃No。　But　I　know　what　I　am　to　you。〃
〃And　what　is　that？〃　The　gunslinger　asked　tightly。
〃A　poker　chip。〃
The　gunslinger　felt　an　urge　to　find　a　rock　and　brain　the　boy。　Instead；　he　held　his　tongue。
〃Go　to　sleep；〃　he　said。　〃Boys　need　their　sleep。〃
And　in　his　mind　he　heard　Marten's　echo：　Go　and　find　your　hand。
He　sat　stiffly　in　the　darkness；　stunned　with　horror　and　terrified　（for　the　first　time　in　his　existence；　of　anything）　of　the　self…loathing　that　might　e。
During　the　next　period　of　waking；　the　railway　angled　closer　to　the　underground　river；　and　they　came　upon　the　Slow　Mutants。
Jake　saw　the　first　one　and　screamed　aloud。
The　gunslinger's　head；　which　had　been　fixed　straight　forward　as　he　pumped　the　handcar；　jerked　to　the　right。　There　was　a　rotten　jack…o…lantern　greenness　below　and　away　from　them；　circular　and　pulsating　faintly。　For　the　first　time　he　became　aware　of　odor　　faint；　unpleasant；　wet。
The　greenness　was　a　face；　and　the　face　was　abnormal。　Above　the　flattened　nose　was　an　insectile　node　of　eyes；　looking　at　them　expressionlessly。　The　gunslinger　felt　an　atavistic　crawl　in　his　intestines　and　privates。　He　stepped　up　the　rhythm　of　arms　and　handcar　handle　slightly。
The　glowing　face　faded。
〃What　was　it？〃　the　boy　asked；　crawling。　〃What　　〃The　words　stopped　dumb　in　his　throat　as　they　came　up　upon　and　passed　a　group　of　three　faintly　glowing　forms；　standing　between　the　rails　and　the　invisible　river；　watching　them；　motionless。
〃They're　Slow　Mutants；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃I　don't　think　they'll　bother　us。　They're　probably　just　as　frightened　of　us　as　we　are　of　　〃
One　of　the　forms　broke　free　and　shambled　toward　them；　glowing　and　changing。　The　face　was　that　of　a　starving　idiot。　The　faint　naked　body　had　been　transformed　into　a　knotted　mess　of　tentacular　limbs　with　suckers。
The　boy　screamed　again　and　crowded　against　the　gunslinger's　leg　like　an　affrighted　dog。
One　of　the　tentacles　pawed　across　the　flat　platform　of　the　handcar。　It　reeked　of　the　wet　and　the　dark　and　of　strangeness。　The　gunslinger　let　loose　of　the　handle　and　drew。　He　put　a　bullet　through　the　forehead　of　the　starving　idiot　face。　It　fell　away；　its　faint　swamp…fire　glow　fading；　an　eclipsed　moon。　The　gunflash　lay　bright　and　branded　on　their　dark　retinas；　fading　only　reluctantly。　The　smell　of　expended　powder　was　hot　and　savage　and　alien　in　this　buried　place。
There　were　others；　more　of　them。　None　moved　against　them　overtly；　but　they　were　closing　in　on　the　tracks；　a　silent；　hideous　party　of　rubberneckers。
〃You　may　have　to　pump　for　me；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃Can　you？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Then　be　ready。〃
The　boy　stood　close　to　him；　his　body　poised。　His　eyes　took　in　the　Slow　Mutants　only　as　they　passed；　not　traversing；　not　seeing　more　than　they　had　to。　The　boy　assumed　a　psychic　bulge　of　terror；　as　if　his　very　id　had　somehow　sprung　out　through　his　pores　to　form　a　telepathic　shield。
The　gunslinger　pumped　steadily　but　did　not　increase　his　speed。　The　Slow　Mutants　could　smell　their　terror；　he　knew　that；　but　he　doubted　if　terror　would　be　enough　for　them。　He　and　the　boy　were；　after　all；　creatures　of　the　light；　and　whole。　How　they　must　hate　us；　he　thought；　and　wondered　if　they　had　hated　the　man　in　black　in　the　same　way。
He　thought　not；　or　perhaps　he　had　passed　among　them　and　through　their　pitiful　hive　colony　unknown；　only　the　shadow　of　a　dark　wing。
The　boy　made　a　noise　in　his　throat　and　the　gunslinger　turned　his　head　almost　casually。　Four　of　them　were　charging　the　handcar　in　a　stumbling　way　　one　of　them　in　the　process　of　finding　a　handgrip。
The　gunslinger　let　go　of　the　handle　and　drew　again；　with　the　same　sleepy　casual　motion。　He　shot　the　lead　mutant　in　the　head。　The　mutant　made　a　sighing；　sobbing　noise　and　began　to　grin。　Its　hands　were　limp　and　fishlike；　dead；　the　fingers　clove　to　one　another　like　the　fingers　of　a　glove　long　immersed　in　drying　mud。　One　of　these　corpse…hands　found　the　boy's　foot　and　began　to　pull。
The　boy　shrieked　aloud　in　the　granite　womb。
The　gunslinger　shot　the　mutant　in　the　chest。　It　began　to　slobber　through　the　grin。　Jake　was　going　off　the　side。　The　gunslinger　caught　one　of　his　arms　and　was　almost　pulled　off　balance　himself。　The　thing　was　amazingly　strong。　The　gunslinger　put　another　bullet　in　the　mutant's　head。　One　eye　went　out　like　a　candle。　Still　it　pulled。　They　engaged　in　a　silent　tug　of　war　for　Jake's　jerking；　wriggling　body。　They　yanked　on　him　like　a　wishbone。
The　handcar　was　slowing　down。　The　others　began　to　close　in　　the　lame；　the　halt；　the　blind。　Perhaps　they　only　looked　for　a　Jesus　to　heal　them；　to　raise　them　Lazarus…like　from　the　darkness。
It's　the　end　for　the　boy；　the　gunslinger　thought　with　perfect　coldness。　This　is　the　end　he　meant。　Let　go　and　pump　or　hold　on　and　be　buried。　The　end　for　the　boy。
He　gave　a　tremendous　yank　on　the　boy's　arm　and　shot　the　mutant　in　the　belly。　For　one　frozen　moment　its　grip　grew　even　tighter　and　Jake　began　to　slide　off　the　edge　again。　Then　the　dead　mud…hands　loosened；　and　the　Slow　Mutie　fell　on　its　face　between　the　tracks　behind　the　slowing　handcar；　still　grinning。
〃I　thought　you'd　leave　me；〃　the　boy　was　sobbing。　〃I　thought　。　。　。　I　thought。　。。。〃
〃Hold　onto　my　belt；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃Hold　on　just　as　tight　as　you　can。〃
The　hand　worked　into　his　belt　and　clutched　there；　the　boy　was　breathing　in　great　convulsive；　silent　gasps。
The　gunslinger　began　to　pump　steadily　again；　and　the　handcar　picked　up　speed。　The　Slow　Mutants