cb.booksofblood2-第13部分

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　A　wave　of　icy　air　blew　up　from　the　sunless　circle　and　in　the　darkness　of　the　shaft　he　could　see　a　shape　approaching。　Its　movement　was　steady；　and　its　face　was　thrown　back　to　look　at　the　world。
　Cameron　could　hear　its　breathing；　see　the　wound　of　its　features　open　and　close　in　the　murk；　oily　bone　locking　and　unlocking　like　the　face　of　a　crab。
　Burgess　was　on　his　knees；　the　two　familiars　flat　on　the　floor　to　either　side　of　him；　faces　to　the　ground。
　Cameron　knew　he　would　have　no　other　chance。　He　stood　up；　his　limbs　hardly　in　his　control；　and　blundered　towards　Burgess；　whose　eyes　were　closed　in　reverent　prayer。　More　by　accident　than　intention　his　knee　caught　Burgess　under　the　jaw　as　he　passed；　and　the　man　was　sent　sprawling。　Cameron's　soles　slid　on　the　floor　out　of　the　ice…cavern　and　into　the　candlelit　chamber　beyond。
　Behind　him；　the　room　was　filling　with　smoke　and　sighs；　and　Cameron；　like　Lot's　wife　fleeing　from　the　destruction　of　Sodom；　glanced　back　just　once　to　see　the　forbidden　sight　behind　him。
　It　was　emerging　from　the　shaft；　its　grey　bulk　filling　the　hole；　lit　by　some　radiance　from　below。　Its　eyes；　deep…set　in　the　naked　bone　of　its　elephantine　head；　met　Cameron's　through　the　open　door。　They　seemed　to　touch　him　like　a　kiss；　entering　his　thoughts　through　his　eyes。
　He　was　not　turned　to　salt。　Pulling　his　curious　glance　away　from　the　face；　he　skated　across　the　ante…chamber　and　started　to　climb　the　stairs　two　and　three　at　a　time；　falling　and　climbing；　falling　and　climbing。　The　door　was　still　ajar。　Beyond　it；　daylight　and　the　world。
　
　He　flung　the　door　open　and　collapsed　into　the　hallway；　feeling　the　warmth　already　beginning　to　wake　his　frozen　nerves。　There　was　no　noise　on　the　stairs　behind　him：　clearly　they　were　too　in　awe　of　their　fleshless　visitor　to　follow　him。　He　hauled　himself　along　the　wall　of　the　hallway；　his　body　wracked　with　shivers　and　chatterings。
　Still　they　didn't　follow。
　Outside　the　day　was　blindingly　bright；　and　he　began　to　feel　the　exhilaration　of　escape。　It　was　like　nothing　he'd　ever　felt　before。　To　have　been　so　close；　yet　survived。　God　had　been　with　him　after　all。
　He　staggered　along　the　road　back　to　his　bicycle；　deter…mined　to　stop　the　race；　to　tell　the　world　…His　bike　was　untouched；　its　handlebars　warm　as　his　wife's　arms。
　As　he　hooked　his　leg　over；　the　look　he　had　exchanged　with　Hell　caught　fire。　His　body；　ignorant　of　the　heat　in　his　brain；　continued　about　its　business　for　a　moment；　putting　its　feet　on　the　pedals　and　starting　to　ride　away。
　Cameron　felt　the　ignition　in　his　head　and　knew　he　was　dead。
　The　look；　the　glance　behind　him　…Lot's　wife。
　Like　Lot's　stupid　wife　…The　lightning　leapt　between　his　ears：　faster　than　thought。
　His　skull　cracked；　and　the　lightning；　white…hot；　shot　out　from　the　furnace　of　his　brain。　His　eyes　withered　to　black　nuts　in　his　sockets；　he　belched　light　from　mouth　and　nostrils。　The　bustion　turned　him　into　a　column　of　black　flesh　in　a　matter　of　seconds；　without　a　flame　or　a　wisp　of　smoke。
　Cameron's　body　was　pletely　incinerated　by　the　time　the　bicycle　careered　off　the　road　and　crashed　through　the　tailor's　shop　window；　where　it　lay　like　a　dummy；　face　down　amongst　the　ashen　suits。　He；　too；　had　looked　back。
　
　The　crowds　at　Trafalgar　Square　were　a　seething　mass　of　enthusiasm。　Cheers；　tears　and　flags。　It　was　as　though　this　little　race　had　bee　something　special　for　these　people：
　a　ritual　the　significance　of　which　they　could　not　know。　Yet　somewhere　in　them　they　understood　the　day　was　laden　with　sulphur；　they　sensed　their　lives　stood　on　tiptoe　to　reach　heaven。　Especially　the　children。　They　ran　along　the　route；　shouting　incoherent　blessings；　their　faces　squeezed　up　with　their　fears。　Some　called　his　name。
　'Joel！　Joel！'
　Or　did　he　imagine　that？　Had　he　imagined；　too；　the　prayer　from　Loyer's　lips；　and　the　signs　in　the　radiant　faces　of　the　babies　held　high　to　watch　the　runners　pass？
　As　they　turned　into　Whitehall　Frank　McCloud　glanced　confidentially　over　his　shoulder　and　Hell　took　him。
　It　was　sudden：　it　was　simple。
　He　stumbled；　an　icy　hand　in　his　chest　crushing　the　life　out　of　him。　Joel　slowed　as　he　approached　the　man。　His　face　was　purple：　his　lips　foamy。
　'McCloud；'　he　said；　and　stopped　to　stare　in　his　great　rival's　thin　face。
　McCloud　looked　up　at　him　from　behind　a　veil　of　smoke　that　had　turned　his　grey　eyes　ochre。　Joel　reached　down　to　help　him。
　'Don't　touch　me；'　McCloud　growled。　The　filament　vessels　in　his　eyes　bulged　and　bled。
　'Cramp？'　asked　Joel。　'Is　it　cramp？'
　'Run；　you　bastard；　run；'　McCloud　was　saying　at　him；　as　the　hand　in　his　innards　seized　his　life　out。　He　was　oozing
　
　blood　through　the　pores　on　his　face　now；　weeping　red　tears。　'Run。　And　don't　look　back。　For　Christ's　sake；　don't　look　back。'
　'What　is　it？'
　'Run　for　your　life！'
　The　words　weren't　requests　but　imperatives。
　Run。
　Not　for　gold　or　glory。　Just　to　live。
　Joel　glanced　up；　suddenly　aware　that　there　was　some　huge…headed　thing　at　his　back；　cold　breath　on　his　neck。
　He　picked　up　his　heels　and　ran。
　'…　Well；　things　aren't　going　so　well　for　the　runners　here；　Jim。　After　Loyer　going　down　so　sensationally；　now　Frank　McCloud　has　stumbled　too。　I've　never　seen　anything　quite　like　it。　But　he　seems　to　have　had　a　few　words　with　Joel　Jones　as　he　ran　past；　so　he　must　be　OK。'
　McCloud　was　dead　by　the　time　they　put　him　in　the　ambulance；　and　putrefied　by　the　following　morning。
　Joel　ran。　Jesus；　did　he　run。　The　sun　had　bee　ferocious　in　his　face；　washing　the　colour　out　of　the　cheering　crowds；　out　of　the　faces；　out　of　the　flags。　Everything　was　one　sheet　of　noise；　drained　of　humanity。
　Joel　knew　the　feeling　that　was　ing　over　him；　the　sense　of　dislocation　that　acpanied　fatigue　and　over…oxygenation。　He　was　running　in　a　bubble　of　his　own　consciousness；　thinking；　sweating；　suffering　by　himself；　for　himself；　in　the　name　of　himself。
　And　it　wasn't　so　bad；　this　being　alone。　Songs　began　to　fill　his　head：　snatches　of　hymns；　sweet　phrases　from　love　songs；　dirty　rhymes。　His　self　idled；　and　his　dream…mind；　unnamed　and　fearless；　took　over。
　Ahead；　washed　by　the　same　white　rain　of　light；　was　Voight。　That　was　the　enemy；　that　was　the　thing　to　be　surpassed。　Voight；　with　his　shining　crucifix　rocking　in　the　sun。　He　could　do　it；　as　long　as　he　didn't　look；　as　long　as　he　didn't　look　…Behind　him。
　
　Burgess　opened　the　door　of　the　Mercedes　and　climbed　in。　Time　had　been　wasted：　valuable　time。　He　should　be　at　the　Houses　of　Parliament；　at　the　finishing　line；　ready　to　wele　the　runners　home。　There　was　a　scene　to　play；　in　which　he　would　pretend　the　mild　and　smiling　face　of　democracy。　And　tomorrow？　Not　so　mild。
　His　hands　were　clammy　with　excitement；　and　his　pin…stripe　suit　smelt　of　the　goat…skin　coat　he　was　obliged　to　wear　in　the　room。　Still；　nobody　would　notice；　and　even　if　they　did　what　English…man　would　be　so　impolite　to　mention　that　he　smelt　goaty？
　He　hated　the　Lower　Chamber；　the　perpetual　ice；　that　damn　yawning　hole　with　its　distant　sound　of　loss。　But　all　that　was　over　now。　He'd　made　his　oblations；　he'd　shown　his　utter　and　ceaseless　adoration　of　the　pit；　now　it　was　time　to　reap　the　rewards。
　As　they　drove；　he　thought　of　his　many　sacrifices　to　ambition。　At　first；　minor　stuff：　kittens　and　cockerels。　Later；　he　was　to　discover　how　ridiculous　they　thought　such　gestures　were。　But　at　the　beginning　he'd　been　innocent：
　not　knowing　what　to　give　or　how　to　give　it。　They　began　to　make　their　requirements　clear　as　the　years　went　by；　and　he；　in　time；　learnt　to　practice　the　etiquette　of　selling　his　soul。　His　self　mortifications　were　studiously　planned　and　immaculately　staged；　though　they　had　left　him　without　nipples　or　the　hope　of　children。　It　was　worth　the　pain；　though：　the　power　came　to　him　by　degrees。　A　triple　first　at　Oxford；　a　wife　endowed　beyond　the　dreams　of　priapism；　　a　seat　in　Parliament；　and　soon；　soon　enough；　the　country　itself。
　The　cauterized　stumps　of　his　thumbs　ached；　as　they　often　did　when　he　was　nervous。　Idly；　he　sucked　on　one。
　
　'…　Well　we're　now　in　the　closing　stages　of　what　really　has　been　one　hell　of　a　race；　eh；　Jim？'
　'Oh　yes；　it's　really　been　a　revelation；　hasn't　it？　Voight　is　really　the　outsider　of　the　field；　and　here　he　is　streaking　away　from　the　pet