chiaasen.stormyweather-第2部分

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　〃There's　no　yards；〃　Snapper　remarked。
　
　Avila　said；　〃Zero…lot　lines　is　what　we　call　it。〃
　
　〃How　cozy；〃　Edie　Marsh　said　from　the　back　seat。　〃What　we　need　is　a　house　that'll　go　to　pieces　in　the　storm。〃
　
　Avila　nodded　confidently。　〃Take　your　pick。　They're　all　ing　down。〃
　
　〃No　shit？〃
　
　〃Yeah；　honey；　no　shit。〃
　
　Snapper　turned　to　Edie　Marsh　and　said；　〃Avila　ought　to　know。　He's　the　one　inspected　the　damn　things。〃
　
　〃Perfect；〃　said　Edie。　She　rolled　down　the　window。　〃Then　let's　find　something　nice。〃
　
　On　instructions　from　the　authorities；　tourists　by　the　thousands　were　bailing　out　of　the　Florida　Keys。　Traffic　on　northbound　U。S。　1　was　a　wretched　crawl；　winking　brake　lights　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see。　Jack　Fleming　and　Webo　Drake　had　run　out　of　beer　at　Big　Pine。　Now　they　were　stuck　behind　a　Greyhound　bus　halfway　across　the　Seven　Mile　Bridge。　The　bus　had　stalled　with　transmission　trouble。　Jack　Fleming　and　Webo　Drake　got　out　of　the　car…Jack's　father's　car…and　started　throwing　empty　Coors　cans　off　the　bridge。　The　two　young　men　were　still　slightly　trashed　from　a　night　at　the　Turtle　Kraals　in　Key　West；　where　the　idea　of　getting　stranded　in　a　Force　Four　hurricane　had　sounded　downright　adventurous；　a　nifty　yarn　to　tell　the　guys　back　at　the　Kappa　Alpha　house。　The　problem　was；　Jack　and　Webo　had　awakened　to　find　themselves　out　of　money　as　well　as　beer；　with　Jack's　father　expecting　his　almost…new　Lexus　to　be　returned　。。。　well；　yesterday。
　
　So　here　they　were；　stuck　on　one　of　the　longest　bridges　in　the　world；　with　a　monster　tropical　cyclone　only　a　few　hours　away。　The　wind　hummed　across　the　Atlantic　at　a　pitch　that　Jack　Fleming　and　Webo　Drake　had　never　before　heard；　it　rocked　them　on　their　heels　when　they　got　out　of　the　car。　Webo　lobbed　an　empty　Coors　can　toward　the　concrete　rail；　but　the　wind　whipped　it　back　hard；　like　a　line　drive。　Naturally　it　then　became　a　contest　to　see　who　had　the　best　arm。　In　high　school　Jack　Fleming　had　been　a　star　pitcher；　mainly　sidearm；　so　his　throws　were　not　as　disturbed　by　the　gusts　as　those　of　Webo　Drake；　who　had　merely　played　backup　quarterback　for　the　junior　varsity。　Jack　was　leading；　eight　beer　cans　to　six　off　the　bridge；　when　a　hand…an　enormous　brown　hand…appeared　with　a　wet　slap　on　the　rail。
　
　Webo　Drake　glanced　worriedly　at　his　frat　brother。　Jack　Fleming　said；　〃Now　what？〃
　
　A　bearded　man　pulled　himself　up　from　a　piling　beneath　the　bridge。　He　was　tall；　with　coarse　silvery　hair　that　hung　in　matted　tangles　to　his　shoulders。　His　bare　chest　was　striped　with　thin　pink　abrasions。　The　man　carried　several　coils　of　dirty　rope　under　one　arm。　He　wore　camouflage　trousers　and　old　brown　military　boots　with　no　laces。　In　his　right　hand　was　a　crushed　Coors　can　and　a　dead　squirrel。
　
　Jack　Fleming　said；　〃You　a　Cuban？〃
　
　Webo　Drake　was　horrified。
　
　Dropping　his　voice；　Jack　said：　〃No　joke。　I　bet　he's　a　rafter。〃
　
　It　made　sense。　This　was　where　the　refugees　usually　landed；　in　the　Keys。　Jack　spoke　loudly　to　the　man　with　the　rope：　〃listed　Cubano？〃
　
　The　man　brandished　the　beer　can　and　said：　〃Usted　un　asshole？〃
　
　His　voice　was　a　rumble　that　fit　his　size。　〃Where　do　you　dipshits　get　off；〃　he　said　over　the　wind；　〃throwing　your　goddamn　garbage　in　the　water？〃　The　man　stepped　forward　and　kicked　out　a　rear　passenger　window　of　Jack's　father's　Lexus。　He　threw　the　empty　beer　can　and　the　dead　squirrel　in　the　back　seat。　Then　he　grabbed　Webo　Drake　by　the　belt　of　his　jeans。　〃Your　trousers　dry？〃　the　man　asked。
　
　Passengers　in　the　Greyhound　bus　pressed　their　faces　to　the　glass　to　see　what　was　happening。　Behind　the　Lexus；　a　family　in　a　rented　minivan　could　be　observed　locking　the　doors；　a　speedy　drill　they　had　obviously　practiced　before　leaving　the　Miami　airport。
　
　Webo　Drake　said　yes；　his　jeans　were　dry。　The　stranger　said；　〃Then　hold　my　eye。〃　With　an　index　finger　he　calmly　removed　a　glass　orb　from　his　left　socket　and　placed　it　carefully　in　one　of　Webo's　pants　pockets。　〃It　loosed　up　on　me；〃　the　stranger　explained；　〃in　all　this　spray。〃
　
　Failing　to　perceive　the　gravity　of　the　moment；　Jack　Fleming　pointed　at　the　shattered　window　of　his　father's　luxury　sedan。　〃Why　the　hell'd　you　do　that？〃
　
　Webo；　shaking：　〃Jack；　it's　all　right。〃
　
　The　one…eyed　man　turned　toward　Jack　Fleming。　〃I　count　thirteen　fucking　beer　cans　in　the　water　and　only　one　hole　in　your　car。　I'd　say　you　got　off　easy。〃
　
　〃Forget　about　it；〃　offered　Webo　Drake。
　
　The　stranger　said；　〃I'm　giving　you　boys　a　break　because　you're　exceptionally　young　and　stupid。〃
　
　Ahead　of　them；　the　Greyhound　bus　wheezed；　lurched　and　finally　began　to　inch　northward。　The　man　with　the　rope　opened　the　rear　door　of　the　Lexus　and　brushed　the　broken　glass　off　the　seat。　〃I　need　a　lift　up　the　road；〃　he　said。
　
　Jack　Fleming　and　Webo　Drake　said　certainly；　sir；　that　would　be　no　trouble　at　all。　It　took　forty…five　minutes　on　the　highway　before　they　summoned　the　nerve　to　ask　the　one…eyed　man　what　he　was　doing　under　the　Seven　Mile　Bridge。
　
　Waiting；　the　man　replied。
　
　For　what？　Webo　asked。
　
　Turn　on　the　radio；　the　man　said。　If　you　don't　mind。
　
　News　of　the　hurricane　was　on　every　station。　The　latest　forecast　put　the　storm　heading　due　west　across　the　Bahamas；　toward　a　landfall　somewhere　between　Key　Largo　and　Miami　Beach。
　
　〃Just　as　I　thought；〃　said　the　one…eyed　man。　〃I　was　too　far　south。　I　could　tell　by　the　sky。〃
　
　He　had　covered　his　head　with　a　flowered　shower　cap；　Jack　Fleming　noticed　it　in　the　rearview　mirror；　but　withheld　ment。　The　young　man　was　more　concerned　about　what　to　tell　his　father　regarding　the　busted　window；　and　also　about　the　stubborn　stain　a　dead　squirrel　might　leave　on　fine　leather　upholstery。
　
　Webo　Drake　asked　the　one…eyed　man：　〃What's　the　rope　for？〃
　
　〃Good　question；〃　he　said；　but　gave　no　explanation。
　
　An　hour　later　the　road　spread　to　four　lanes　and　the　traffic　began　to　move　at　a　better　clip。　Almost　no　cars　were　heading　south。　The　highway　split　at　North　Key　Largo；　and　the　stranger　instructed　Jack　Fleming　to　bear　right　on　County　Road　905。
　
　〃It　says　there's　a　toll；〃　Jack　said。
　
　〃Yeah？〃
　
　〃Look；　we're　out　of　money。〃
　
　A　soggy　ten…dollar　bill　landed　on　the　front　seat　between　Jack　Fleming　and　Webo　Drake。　Again　the　earthquake　voice：　〃Stop　when　we　reach　the　bridge。〃
　
　Twenty　minutes　later　they　approached　the　Card　Sound　Bridge；　which　crosses　from　North　Key　Largo　to　the　mainland。　Jack　Fleming　tapped　the　brakes　and　steered　to　the　shoulder。　〃Not　here；〃　said　the　stranger。　〃All　the　way　to　the　top。〃
　
　〃The　top　of　the　bridge？〃
　
　〃Are　you　deaf；　junior？〃
　
　Jack　Fleming　drove　up　the　slope　cautiously。　The　wind　was　ungodly；　jostling　the　Lexus　on　its　springs。　At　the　crest　of　the　span；　Jack　pulled　over　as　far　as　he　dared。　The　one…eyed　man　retrieved　his　glass　eye　from　Webo　Drake　and　got　out　of　the　car。　He　yanked　the　plastic　cap　off　his　head　and　jammed　it　into　the　waistband　of　his　trousers。
　
　〃e　here；〃　the　stranger　told　the　two　young　men。　〃Tie　me。〃　He　popped　the　eye　into　its　socket　and　cleaned　it　in　a　polishing　motion　with　the　corner　of　a　bandanna。
　
　Then　he　climbed　over　the　rail　and　inserted　his　legs　back　under　the　gap；　so　he　was　kneeling　on　the　precipice。
　
　Other　hurricane　evacuees　slowed　their　cars　to　observe　the　lunatic　scene；　but　none　dared　to　stop；　the　man　being　lashed　to　the　bridge　looked　wild　enough　to　deserve　it。　Jack　Fleming　and　Webo　Drake　worked　as　swiftly　as　possible；　given　the　force　of　the　gusts　and　the　rapidity　with　which　their　Key　West　hangovers　were　advancing。　The　stranger　gave　explicit　instructions　about　how　he　was　to　be　trussed；　and　the　fraternity　boys　did　what　they　were　told。　They　knotted　one　end　of　the　rope　around　the　man's　thick　ankles　and　ran　the　other　end　over　the　concrete　rail。　After　looping　it　four　times　around　his　chest；　they　cinched　until　he　grunted。　Then　they　threaded　the　rope　under　the　rail　and　back　to　the　ankles　for　the　final　knotting。
　
　The　product　was　a　sturdy　harness　that　allowed　the　stranger's　arms　to　wave　free。　Webo　Drake　tested　the　knots　and　pronounced　them　tight。　〃Can　we　go　now？〃　he　asked　the　one…eyed　man。
　
　〃By　all　means。〃
　
　〃What　about　the　squirrel；　sir？〃
　
　〃