sk.thewastelands-第86部分

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steer　must　feel　when　it's　driven　down　the　chute　to　the　slaughtering　pen；　Jake　thought；　and　vowed　that　if　he　got　out　of　this　alive；　he　would　never　eat　steak　again。
　　〃Run；　my　sweet　little　boycunt！　Run！〃
　　Jake　soon　lost　all　track　of　the　twistings　and　turnings　they　made；　and　as　Gasher　drove　him　deeper　and　deeper　into　this　jumble　of　torn　steel；　broken　furniture；　and　castoff　machinery；　he　began　to　give　up　hope　of　rescue。　Not　even　Roland　would　be　able　to　find　him　now。　If　the　gunslinger　tried；　he　would　bee　lost　himself；　and　wander　the　choked　paths　of　this　nightmare　world　until　he　died。
　　Now　they　were　going　downhill；　and　the　walls　of　tightly　packed　paper　had　given　way　to　ramparts　of　filing　cabinets；　jumbles　of　adding　machines；　and　piles　of　puter　gear。　It　was　like　running　through　some　nightmarish　Radio　Shack　warehouse。　For　almost　a　full　minute　the　wall　flowing　past　on　Jake's　left　appeared　to　be　constructed　solely　of　either　TV　sets　or　carelessly　stacked　video　display　terminals。　They　stared　at　him　like　the　glazed　eyes　of　dead　men。　And　as　the　pavement　beneath　their　feet　contin…ued　to　descend；　Jake　realized　that　they　were　in　a　tunnel。　The　strip　of　cloudy　sky　overhead　narrowed　to　a　band；　the　band　narrowed　to　a　ribbon；　and　the　ribbon　became　a　thread。　They　were　in　a　gloomy　netherworld；　scurrying　like　rats　through　a　gigantic　trash…midden。
　　What　if　it　all　es　down　on　us？　Jake　wondered；　but　in　his　current　state　of　aching　exhaustion；　this　possibility　did　not　frighten　him　much。　If　the　roof　fell　in；　he　would　at　least　be　able　to　rest。
　　Gasher　drove　him　as　a　farmer　would　a　mule；　striking　his　left　shoulder　to　indicate　a　left　turn　and　his　right　to　indicate　a　right　turn。　When　the　course　was　straight　on；　he　thumped　Jake　on　the　back　of　the　head。　Jake　tried　to　dodge　a　jutting　pipe　and　didn't　quite　succeed。　It　whacked　into　one　hip　and　sent　him　flailing　across　the　narrow　passage　toward　a　snarl　of　glass　and　jagged　boards。　Gasher　caught　him　and　shoved　him　forward　again。　〃Run；　you　clumsy　squint！　Can't　you　run？　If　it　wasn't　for　the　Tick…Tock　Man；　I'd　bugger　you　right　here　and　cut　yer　throat　while　I　did　it；　ay；　so　I　would！〃
　　Jake　ran　in　a　red　daze　where　there　was　only　pain　and　the　frequent　thud　of　Gusher's　fists　ing　down　on　his　shoulders　or　the　hack　of　his　head。　At　last；　when　he　was　sure　he　could　run　no　longer；　Gasher　grabbed　him　by　the　neck　and　yanked　him　to　a　stop　so　fiercely　that　Jake　crashed　into　him　with　a　strangled　squawk。
　　〃Here's　a　tricky　little　bit！〃　Gasher　panted　jovially。　〃Look　straight　ahead　and　you'll　see　two　wires　what　cross　in　an　X　low　to　the　ground。　Do　yer　see　em？〃
　　At　first　Jake　didn't。　It　was　very　gloomy　here；　heaps　of　huge　copper　kettles　were　piled　up　to　the　left；　and　to　the　right　were　stacks　of　steel　tanks　that　looked　like　scuba…diving　gear。　Jake　thought　he　could　turn　these　latter　into　an　avalanche　with　one　strong　breath。　He　swiped　his　forearm　across　his　eyes；　brushing　away　tangles　of　hair；　and　tried　not　to　think　about　how　he'd　look　with　about　sixteen　tons　of　those　tanks　piled　on　top　of　him。　He　squinted　in　the　direction　Gasher　was　pointing。　Yes；　he　could　make　out…barely…two　thin；　silvery　lines　that　looked　like　guitar　or　banjo　strings。　They　came　down　from　opposite　sides　of　the　passageway　and　crossed　about　two　feet　above　the　pavement。
　　〃Crawl　under；　dear　heart。　And　be　ever　so　careful；　for　if　you　so　much　as　twang　one　of　those　wires；　harf　the　steel　and　cement　puke　in　the　city'll　e　down　on　your　dear　little　head。　Mine；　too；　although　I　doubt　if　that'd　disturb　you　much；　would　it？　Now　crawl！〃
　　Jake　shrugged　out　of　his　pack；　lay　down；　and　pushed　it　through　the　gap　ahead　of　him。　And　as　he　eased　his　way　under　the　thin；　taut　wires；　he　discovered　that　he　wanted　to　live　a　little　longer　after　all。　It　seemed　that　he　could　actually　feel　all　those　tons　of　carefully　balanced　junk　waiting　to　e　down　on　him。　These　wires　are　probably　holding　a　couple　of　carefully　chosen　keystones　in　place；　he　thought。　If　one　of　them　breaks　。　。　。　ashes；　ashes；　we　all　fall　down。　His　back　brushed　one　of　the　wires；　and　high　overhead；　something　creaked。
　　〃Careful；　cully！〃　Gasher　almost　moaned。　〃Be　oh　so　careful！〃
　　Jake　pushed　himself　beneath　the　crisscrossing　wires；　using　his　feet　and　his　elbows。　His　stinking；　sweat…clogged　hair　fell　in　his　eyes　again；　but　he　did　not　dare　brush　it　away。
　　〃You're　clear；〃　Gasher　grunted　at　last；　and　slipped　beneath　the　tripwires　himself　with　the　ease　of　long　practice。　He　stood　up　and　snatched　Jake's　pack　before　Jake　could　reshoulder　it。　〃What's　in　here；　cully？〃　he　asked；　undoing　the　straps　and　peering　in。　〃Got　any　treats　for　yer　old　pal？　For　the　Gasherman　loves　his　treaties；　so　he　does！〃
　　〃There's　nothing　in　there　but…〃
　　Gasher's　hand　flashed　out　and　rocked　Jake's　head　back　with　a　hard　slap　that　sent　a　fresh　spray　of　bloody　froth　flying　from　the　boy's　nose。
　　〃What　did　you　do　that　for？〃　Jake　cried；　hurt　and　outraged。
　　〃For　tellin　me　what　my　own　beshitted　eyes　can　see！〃　Gasher　yelled；　and　cast　Jake's　pack　aside。　He　bared　his　remaining　teeth　at　the　boy　in　a　dangerous；　terrible　grin。　〃And　fer　almost　bringin　the　whole　beshitted　works　down　on　us！〃　He　paused；　then　added　in　a　quieter　voice：　〃And　because　I　felt　like　it…I　must　admit　that。　Your　stupid　sheep's　face　puts　me　wery　much　in　a　slappin　temper；　so　it　does。〃　The　grin　widened；　reveal…ing　his　oozing　whitish　gums；　a　sight　Jake　could　have　done　without。　〃If　your　hardcase　friend　follows　us　this　far；　he'll　have　a　surprise　when　he　runs　into　those　wires；　won't　he？〃　Gasher　looked　up；　still　grinning。　〃There's　a　city　bus　balanced　up　there　someplace；　as　I　remember。〃
　　Jake　began　to　weep…tired；　hopeless　tears　that　cut　through　the　dirt　on　his　cheeks　in　narrow　channels。
　　Gasher　raised　an　open；　threatening　hand。　〃Get　moving；　cully；　before　I　start　cryin　myself　。。。　for　a　wery　sentermental　fellow　is　yer　old　pal；　so　he　is；　and　when　he　starts　to　grieve　and　mourn；　a　little　slappin　is　the　only　thing　to　put　a　smile　on　his　face　again。　Run！〃
　　They　ran。　Gasher　chose　pathways　leading　deeper　into　the　smelly；　creaking　maze　seemingly　at　random；　indicating　his　choices　with　hard　whacks　to　the　shoulders。　At　some　point　the　sound　of　the　drums　began。　It　seemed　to　e　from　everywhere　and　nowhere；　and　for　Jake　it　was　the　final　straw。　He　gave　up　hope　and　thought　alike；　and　allowed　himself　to　descend　wholly　into　the　nightmare。
　　
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　　ROLAND　HALTED　IN　FRONT　of　the　barricade　which　choked　the　street　from　side　to　side　and　top　to　bottom。　Unlike　Jake；　he　had　no　hopes　of　emerging　into　the　open　on　the　other　side。　The　buildings　lying　east　of　this　point　would　be　sentry…occupied　islands　emerging　from　an　inland　sea　of　trash；　tools；　artifacts　。　。　。　and　booby…traps；　he　had　no　doubt。　Some　of　these　leavings　undoubtedly　still　remained　where　they　had　fallen　five　hun…dred　or　seven　hundred　or　a　thousand　years　ago；　but　Roland　thought　most　of　it　had　been　dragged　here　by　the　Grays　a　piece　at　a　time。　The　eastern　portion　of　Lud　had　bee；　in　effect；　the　castle　of　the　Grays；　and　Roland　was　now　standing　outside　its　wall。
　　He　walked　forward　slowly　and　saw　the　mouth　of　a　passageway　half…hidden　behind　a　ragged　cement　boulder。　There　were　footprints　in　the　powdery　dust…two　sets；　one　big；　one　small。　Roland　started　to　get　up；　looked　again；　and　squatted　on　his　hunkers　once　more。　Not　two　sets　but　three；　the　third　marking　the　paws　of　a　small　animal。
　　〃Oy？〃　Roland　called　softly。　For　a　moment　there　was　no　response；　and　then　a　single　soft　bark　came　from　the　shadows。　Roland　stepped　into　the　passageway　and　saw　gold…ringed　eyes　peering　at　him　from　around　the　first　crooked　corner。　Roland　trotted　down　to　the　humbler。　Oy；　who　still　didn't　like　to　e　really　close　to　anyone　but　Jake；　backed　up　a　step　and　then　held　his　ground；　looking　anxiously　up　at　the　gunslinger。
　　〃Do　you　want　to　help　me？〃　Roland　asked。　He　could　feel　the　dry　red　curtain　that　was　battle　fever　at　the　edge　of　his　consciousness；　but　this　was　not　the　time　for　it。　The　time　would　e；　but　for　now　he　must　not　allow　himself　that　inexpressible　relief。　〃Help　me　find　Jake？〃
　　〃Ake！〃　Oy　barked；　still　watching　Roland　with　his　anxious　eyes。
　　〃Go　on；　then。　Find　him。〃
　　Oy　turned　away　at　once　and　ran　rapidly　down　the　alley；　nose　skim…ming　the　ground。　Rol