stephen king - mist-第34部分

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　I　slapped　my　forehead　in　frustration　and　anger　at　myself；　wondering　how　I　could　have　been　stupid　enough　to　forget　the　Scout's　AM/FM　for　so　long。
　〃Don't　do　that；〃　Mrs。　Reppler　said　curtly。　〃You　can't　think　of　everything。　If　you　try；　you　will　go　mad　and　be　of　no　use　at　all。〃
　I　got　nothing　but　a　shriek　of　static　all　the　way　across　the　AM　band；　and　the　FM　yielded　nothing　but　a　smooth　and　ominous　silence。
　〃Does　that　mean　everything's　off　the　air？〃　Amanda　asked。　I　knew　what　she　was　thinking；　maybe。　We　were　far　enough　south　now　so　that　we　should　have　been　picking　up　a　selection　of　strong　Boston　stations　…　WRKO；　WBZ；　WMEX　But　if　Boston　had　gone
　〃It　doesn't　mean　anything　for　sure；〃　I　said。　〃That　static　on　the　AM　band　is　pure　interference。　The　mist　is　having　a　damping　effect　on　radio　signals；　too。〃
　〃Are　you　sure　that's　all　it　is？〃
　〃Yes；〃　I　said；　not　sure　at　all。
　We　went　south。　The　mileposts　rolled　past；　counting　down　from　about　forty。　When　we　reached　Mile　1；　we　would　be　at　the　New　Hampshire　border。　Going　on　the　turnpike　was　slower；　a　lot　of　the　drivers　hadn't　wanted　to　give　up；　and　there　had　been　rear…end　collisions　in　several　places。　Several　times　I　had　to　use　the　median　strip。
　At　about　twenty　past　one　…　I　was　beginning　to　feel　hungry　…Billy　clutched　my　arm。　〃Daddy；　what's　that？　What's　that！〃
　A　shadow　loomed　out　of　the　mist；　staining　it　dark。　It　was　as　tall　as　a　cliff　and　ing　right　at　us。　I　jammed　on　the　brakes。　Amanda；　who　had　been　catnapping；　was　thrown　for…ward。
　Something　came；　again；　that　is　all　I　can　say　for　sure。　It　may　have　been　the　fact　that　the　mist　only　allowed　us　to　glimpse　things　briefly；　but　I　think　just　as　likely　that　there　are　certain　things　that　your　brain　simply　disallows。　There　are　things　of　such　darkness　and　horror…just；　I　suppose；　as　there　are　things　of　such　great　beauty　…　that　they　will　not　fit　through　the　puny　human　doors　of　perception。
　It　was　six…legged；　I　know　that；　its　skin　was　slaty　gray　that　mottled　to　dark　brown　in　places。　Those　brown　patches　reminded　me　absurdly　of　the　liver　spots　on　Mrs。　Carmody's　hands。　Its　skin　was　deeply　wrinkled　and　grooved；　and　clinging　to　it　were　scores；　hundreds；　of　those　pinkish　〃bugs〃　with　the　stalk…eyes。　I　don't　know　how　big　it　actually　was；　but　it　passed　directly　over　us。　One　of　its　gray；　wrinkled　legs　smashed　down　right　beside　my　window；　and　Mrs。　Reppler　said　later　she　could　not　see　the　underside　of　its　body；　although　she　craned　her　neck　up　to　look。　She　saw　only　two　Cyclopean　legs　going　up　and　up　into　the　mist　like　living　towers　until　they　were　lost　to　sight。
　For　the　moment　it　was　over　the　Scout　I　had　an　impression　of　something　so　big　that　it　might　have　made　a　blue　whale　look　the　size　of　a　trout…in　other　words；　something　so　big　that　it　defied　the　imagination。　Then　it　was　gone；　sending　a　seismological　series　of　thuds　back。　it　left　tracks　in　the　cement　of　the　interstate；　tracks　so　deep　I　could　not　see　the　bottoms。　Each　single　track　was　nearly　big　enough　to　drop　the　Scout　into。
　For　a　moment　no　one　spoke。　There　was　no　sound　but　our　breathing　and　the　diminishing　thud　of　that　great　Thing's　passage。
　Then　Billy　said；　〃Was　it　a　dinosaur；　Dad？　Like　the　bird　that　got　into　the　market　？〃
　〃I　don't　think　so。　I　don't　think　there　was　ever　an　animal　that　big；　Billy。　At　least　not　on　earth。〃
　I　thought　of　the　Arrowhead　Project　and　wondered　again　what　crazy　damned　thing　they　could　have　been　doing　up　there。
　〃Can　we　go　on？〃　Amanda　asked　timidly。　〃It　might　e　back。〃
　Yes；　and　there　might　be　more　up　ahead。　But　there　was　no　point　in　saying　so。　We　had　to　go　somewhere。　I　drove　on；　weaving　in　and　out　between　those　terrible　tracks　until　they　veered　off　the　road。
　That　is　what　happened。　Or　nearly　all…there　is　one　final　thing　I'll　get　to　in　a　moment。　But　you　mustn't　expect　some　…neat　conclusion。　There　is　no　And　they　escaped　from　the　mist　into　the　good　sunshine　of　a　new　day；　or　When　we　awoke　the　National　Guard　had　finally　arrived；　or　even　that　great　old　standby：　It　was　all　a　dream。
　It　is；　I　suppose；　what　my　father　always　frowningly　called　fan　Alfred　Hitchcock　ending；〃　by　which　he　meant　a　conclusion　in　ambiguity　that　allowed　the　reader　or　viewer　I　to　make　up　his　own　mind　about　how　things　ended。　My　father　had　nothing　but　contempt　for　such　stories；　saying　they　were　〃cheap　shots。〃
　We　got　to　this　Howard　Johnson's　near　Exit　3　as　dusk　began　to　close　in；　making　driving　a　suicidal　risk。　Before　that；　we　took　a　chance　on　a　bridge　that　spans　the　Saco　River。　It　looked　badly　twisted　out　of　shape；　but　in　the　mist　it　was　impossible　to　tell　if　it　was　whole　or　not。　That　particular　game　we　won。
　But　there's　tomorrow　to　think　of；　isn't　there？
　As　I　write　this；　it　is　a　quarter　to　one　in　the　morning；　July　the　twenty…third。　The　storm　that　seemed　to　signal　the　beginning　of　it　all　was　only　four　days　ago。　Billy　is　sleeping　in　the　lobby　on　a　mattress　that　I　dragged　out　for　him。　Amanda　and　Mrs。　Reppler　are　close　by。　I　am　writing　by　the　light　of　a　big　Delco　flashlight；　and　outside　the　pink　bugs　are　ticking　and　thumping　off　the　glass。　Every　now　and　then　there　is　a　louder　thud　as　one　of　the　birds　takes　one　off。
　The　Scout　has　enough　gas　to　take　us　maybe　another　ninety　miles。　The　alternative　is　to　try　to　gas　up　here；　there　is　an　Exxon　out　on　the　service　island；　and　although　the　power　is　off；　I　believe　I　could　siphon　some　up　from　the　tank。　But
　But　it　means　being　outside。
　If　we　can　get　gas…here　or　further　along　…　we'll　keep　going。　I　have　a　destination　in　mind　now；　you　see。　It's　that　last　thing　I　wanted　to　tell　you　about。
　I　couldn't　be　sure。　That　is　the　thing；　the　damned　thing。　It　might　have　been　my　imagination；　nothing　but　wish　fulfillment。　And　even　if　not；　it　is　such　a　long　chance。　How　many　miles？　How　many　bridges？　How　many　things　that　would　love　to　tear　up　my　son　and　eat　him　even　as　he　screamed　in　terror　and　agony？
　The　chances　are　so　good　that　it　was　nothing　but　a　daydream　that　I　haven't　told　the　others　。。。　at　least；　not　yet。
　In　the　manager's　apartment　I　found　a　large　batteryoperated　multiband　radio。　From　the　back　of　it；　a　flat　antenna　wire　led　out　through　the　window。　I　turned　it　on；　switched　over　to　BAT。；　fiddled　with　the　tuning　dial；　with　the　SQUELCH　knob；　and　still　got　nothing　but　static　…　dead　silence。
　And　then；　at　the　far　end　of　the　AM　band；　just　as　I　was　reaching　for　the　knob　to　turn　it　off；　I　thought　I　heard；　or　dreamed　I　heard；　one　single　word。
　There　was　no　more。　I　listened　for　an　hour；　but　there　was　no　more。　if　there　was　that　one　word；　it　came　through　some　minute　shift　in　the　damping　mist；　an　infinitesimal　break　that　immediately　closed　again。
　One　word。
　I've　got　to　get　some　sleep　。。。　if　I　can　sleep　and　not　be　haunted　until　daybreak　by　the　faces　of　Ollie　Weeks　and　Mrs。　Carmody　and　Norm　the　bag…boy　。。。　and　by　Steff's　face；　half…shadowed　by　the　wide　brim　of　her　sunhat。
　There　is　a　restaurant　here；　a　typical　HoJo　restaurant　with　a　dining　room　and　a　long；　horseshoe…　shaped　lunch　counter。　I　am　going　to　leave　these　pages　on　the　counter　and　perhaps　someday　someone　will　find　them　and　read　them。
　One　word。
　If　I　only　really　heard　it。　If　only。
　I'm　going　to　bed　now。　But　first　I'm　going　to　kiss　my　son　and　whisper　two　words　in　his　ear。　Against　the　dreams　that　may　e；　you　know。
　Two　words　that　sound　a　bit　alike。
　One　of　them　is　Hartford。
　The　other　is　hope。
　
　
　
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