cb.booksofblood2-第24部分
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Well； I think that is sufficient。
This is my testimony。 I have no time to re…read it now。 His footsteps are on the stairs （he limps） and I must go with him。 This I leave to whoever finds it； to use as they think fit。 By morning I shall be dead； and happy。 Believe it。'
My God； she thought； Koos has cheated me。
Vassi had been outside the door； she'd felt his flesh with her mind and she'd embraced it。 But Koos hadn't let him in； despite her explicit orders。 Of all men； Vassi was to be allowed free access； Koos knew that。 But he'd cheated her； the way they'd all cheated her except Vassi。 With him （perhaps） it had been love。
She lay on the bed through the night； never sleeping。 She seldom slept now for more than a few minutes： and only then with Koos watching her。 She'd done herself harm in her sleep； mutilating herself without knowing it； waking up bleeding and screaming with every limb sprouting needles she'd made out of her own skin and muscle； like a flesh cactus。
It was dark again； she guessed； but it was difficult to be sure。 In this heavily curtained； bare…bulb lit room； it was a perpetual day to the senses； perpetual night to the soul。 She would lie； bed…sores on her back； on her buttocks； listening to the far sounds of the street； sometimes dozing for a while； sometimes eating from Koos' hand； being washed； being toileted； being used。
A key turned in the lock。 She strained from the mattress to see who it was。 The door was opening。 。 。 opening。。。 opened。
Vassi。 Oh God； it was Vassi at last； she could see him crossing the room towards her。
Let this not be another memory； she prayed； please let it be him this time： true and real。
'Jacqueline。'
He said the name of her flesh； the whole name。
'Jacqueline。' It was him。
Behind him； Koos stared between her legs； fascinated by the dance of her labia。
'Koo。 。 。' she said； trying to smile。
'I brought him；' he grinned at her； not looking away from her sex。
'A day；' she whispered。 'I waited a day； Koos。 You made me wait …'
'What's a day to you？' he said； still grinning。
She didn't need the pimp any longer； not that he knew that。 In his innocence he thought Vassi was just another man she'd seduced along the way； to be drained and discarded like the others。 Koos believed he would be needed tomorrow； that's why he played this fatal game so artlessly。
'Lock the door；' she suggested to him。 'Stay if you like。'
'Stay？' he said； leering。 'You mean； and watch？'
He watched anyway。 She knew he watched through that hole he had bored in the door； she could hear him pant sometimes。 But this time； let him stay forever。
Carefully； he took the key from the outside of the door； closed it； slipped the key into the inside and locked it。 Even as the lock clicked she killed him； before he could even turn round and look at her again。 Nothing spectacular in the execution； she just reached into his pigeon chest and crushed his lungs。 He slumped against the door and slid down； smearing his face across the wood。
Vassi didn't even turn round to see him die； she was all he ever wanted to look at again。
He approached the mattress； crouched； and began to untie her ankles。 The skin was chafed； the rope scabby with old blood。 He worked at the knots systematically； finding a calm he thought he'd lost； a simple contentment in being here at the end； unable to go back； and knowing that the path ahead was deep in her。
When her ankles were free； he began on her wrists； interrupting her view of the ceiling as he bent over her。 His voice was soft。
'Why did you let him do this to you？'
'I was afraid。'
'Of what？'
'To move； even to live。 Every day； agony。' 'Yes。'
He understood so well that total incapacity to exist。
She felt him at her side； undressing； then laying a kiss on the sallow skin of the stomach of the body she occupied。 It was marked with her workings； the skin had been stretched beyond its tolerance and was permanently criss…crossed。
He lay down beside her； and the feel of his body against hers was not unpleasant。
She touched his head。 Her joints were stiff； the move…ments painful； but she wanted to draw his face up to hers。 He came； smiling； into her sight； and they exchanged kisses。
My God； she thought； we are together。
And thinking they were together； her will was made flesh。 Under his lips her features dissolved； being the red sea he'd dreamt of； and washing up over his face； that was itself dissolving； mon waters made of thought and bone。
Her keen breasts pricked him like arrows； his erection； sharpened by her thought； killed her in return with his only thrust。 Tangled in a wash of love they thought themselves extinguished； and were。
Outside； the hard world mourned on； the chatter of buyers and sellers continuing through the night。 Event…ually indifference and fatigue claimed even the eagerest merchant。 Inside and out there was a healing silence： an end to losses and to gains。
THE SKINS OF THE FATHERS
THE CAR COUGHED； and choked； and died。 Davidson was suddenly aware of the wind on the desert road； as it keened at the windows of his Mustang。 He tried to revive the engine； but it refused life。 Exasperated； Davidson let his sweating hands drop off the wheel and surveyed the territory。 In every direction； hot air； hot rock； hot sand。 This was Arizona。
He opened the door and stepped out on to the baking dust highway。 In front and behind it stretched unswervingly to the pale horizon。 If he narrowed his eyes he could just make out the mountains； but as soon as he attempted to fix his focus they were eaten up by the heat…haze。 Already the sun was corroding the top of his head； where his blond hair was thinning。 He threw up the hood of the car and peered hopelessly into the engine； regretting his lack of mechanical know…how。 Jesus； he thought； why don't they make the damn things foolproof？ Then he heard the music。
It was so far off it sounded like a whistling in his ears at first： but it became louder。
It was music； of a sort。
How did it sound？ Like the wind through telephone lines； a sourceless； rhythmless； heartless air…wave plucking at the hairs on the back of his neck and telling them to stand。 He tried to ignore it； but it wouldn't go away。
He looked up out of the shade of the bonnet to find the players； but the road was empty in both directions。 Only as he scanned the desert to the south…east did a line of tiny figures bee visible to him； walking； or skipping； or dancing at the furthest edge of his sight； liquid in the heat of the earth。 The procession； if that was its nature； was long； and making its way across the desert parallel to the highway。 Their paths would not cross。
Davidson glanced down once more into the cooling entrails of his vehicle and then up again at the distant line of dancers。
He needed help： no doubt of it。
He started off across the desert towards them。
Once off the highway the dust； not impacted by the passage of cars； was loose： it flung itself up at his face with every step。 Progress was slow： he broke into a trot：
but they were receding from him。 He began to run。
Over the thunder of his blood； he could hear the music more loudly now。 There was no melody apparent； but a constant rising and falling of many instruments； howls and hummings； whistlings； drummings and roarings。
The head of the procession had now disappeared； received into distance； but the celebrants （if that they were） still paraded past。 He changed direction a little； to head them off； glancing over his shoulder briefly to check his way back。 With a stomach…churning sense of loneliness he saw his vehicle； as small as a beetle on the road behind him； sitting weighed down by a boiling sky。
He ran on。 A quarter of an hour； perhaps； and he began to see the procession more clearly； though its leaders were well out of sight。 It was； he began to believe； a carnival of some sort； extraordinary as that seemed out here in the middle of God's nowhere。 The last dancers in the parade were definitely costumed； however。 They wore headdresses and masks that tottered well above human height … there was the flutter of brightly…coloured feathers； and streamers coiling in the air behind them。 W
