dk.intensity-第61部分

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maybe　ten；　after　which　he　overpowered　his　two　guards；　killed　them；　and　cut　the　face　off　one　to　wear　as　a　disguise；　although　he　used　a　penknife　for　the　surgery；　not　the　homemade　handcuff　key。　Over　the　years；　she　had　seen　many　other　movies　in　which　prisoners　picked　open　cuffs　and　leg　irons；　and　none　of　them　had　any　more　training　for　it　than　she　did。
　Ten　minutes　later；　with　her　left　cuff　still　securely　locked；　Chyna　said；　〃Movies　are　full　of　shit。〃
　She　was　so　frustrated　that　her　hand　trembled　and　she　couldn't　control　the　strut。　It　jittered　uselessly　in　the　tight　keyway。
　On　the　porch；　the　dog　wasn't　pacing　as　fast　as　it　had　paced　earlier；　but　it　was　still　disturbed。　Twice　it　clawed　at　the　back　door；　once　with　considerable　fervor；　as　if　it　thought　it　might　be　able　to　dig　its　way　through　the　wood。
　Chyna　switched　the　strut　to　her　left　hand　and　worked　on　the　right　cuff　for　a　while。　Ticks；　clicks；　scrapes；　and　squeaks。　She　was　concentrating　so　intently　on　picking　the　tiny　lock　that　she　was　sweating　as　copiously　as　when　she　had　been　struggling　to　overturn　the　heavy　table。
　Finally　she　threw　the　turkey　strut　on　the　floor；　and　it　bounced　pingping…ping　across　the　tiles；　across　a　piece　of　the　broken　plate；　and　off　a　shard　of　the　water　glass。
　Perhaps　she　could　have　freed　herself　in　a　wink　if　she　had　been　the　greatest　psychotic　killer　and　criminal　genius　of　her　age。　But　she　was　only　a　waitress　and　a　psychology　student。
　Even　as　inconveniently　sane　and　law…abiding　as　she　was；　she　might　be　able　to　pop　the　handcuffs　off　her　wrists　and　the　larger　shackles　off　her　ankles　with　a　more　suitable　tool　than　the　turkey　strut；　but　she　would　probably　need　hours　to　do　it。　She　couldn't　dedicate　hours　solely　to　the　job　of　freeing　herself　from　the　chair　and　chains；　because　once　she　was　unfettered；　there　were　many　other　urgent　tasks　to　be　done　before　Vess　returned。
　She　slammed　the　drawer　shut。　Holding　the　chain　out　of　her　way　and　hauling　the　chair　with　her；　she　got　to　her　feet。
　With　a　jangle　worthy　of　the　Ghost　of　Christmas　Past；　Chyna　went　to　the　door　between　the　kitchen　and　the　living　room。
　Behind　her；　at　the　window　in　the　dining　area；　a　weird　screeching　arose。　She　looked　back　and　saw　that　the　big　Doberman　was　scratching　frantically　at　the　glass　with　both　forepaws。　Its　claws　squeaked　down　the　pane　with　a　sound　as　unsettling　as　fingernails　dragged　across　a　chalkboard。
　She　had　intended　to　find　her　way　into　the　dark　living　room　by　the　light　spilling　through　the　open　door；　but　the　dog　spooked　her。　While　she'd　picked　at　the　cuff　locks；　the　Doberman　had　grown　slightly　calmer；　but　now　it　was　as　disturbed　as　ever。　Hoping　to　calm　it　before　it　decided　to　spring　through　the　window；　she　turned　off　the　overhead　fluorescent　panels。
　Squeak…squeak…squeak。　Claws；　glass。　Squeak…squeak。　She　eased　across　the　threshold；　leaving　the　kitchen；　and　pushed　the　door　shut　behind　her；　blocking　out　the　squeaking。　Blocking　out　the　damn　dog　as　well；　in　case　it　proved　to　be　crazed　enough　to　burst　through　the　glass。
　She　felt　along　the　wall。　Evidently　the　only　switches　were　on　the　other　side　of　the　room；　by　the　front　door。
　The　living　room　seemed　to　be　blacker　than　the　kitchen。　The　drapes　were　drawn　over　one　of　the　two　expansive　windows　that　faced　onto　the　front　porch。　The　other　window　was　a　barely　defined　gray　rectangle　that　admitted　no　more　light　than　had　the　double…pane　slider　in　the　kitchen。
　Chyna　stood　motionless；　taking　time　to　orient　herself；　trying　to　recall　the　furnishings。　She　had　been　in　the　room　only　once　before；　briefly；　and　the　space　had　been　clotted　with　shadows。　When　she　had　entered　from　the　front　porch　this　morning；　the　kitchen　door　had　been　somewhat　to　her　left　in　the　back　wall。　The　handsome　sofa　with　ball　feet；　covered　in　a　tartan…plaid　fabric；　had　been　to　the　right；　which　would　put　it；　now；　to　her　left　as　she　faced　toward　the　front　of　the　house。　Rustic　oak　end　tables　had　flanked　the　large　sofa…and　on　each　end　table　had　been　a　lamp。
　Trying　to　hold　this　clear　image　of　the　room　in　her　mind；　she　hobbled　warily　through　the　darkness；　afraid　of　falling　over　a　chair　or　a　footstool　or　a　magazine　rack。　Swaddled　in　chains　and　under　the　weight　of　the　chair；　she　would　be　unable　to　check　her　fall　in　a　natural　manner　and　might　be　so　twisted　by　her　shackles　that　she　would　break　an　ankle　or　even　a　leg。
　Whereupon；　Edgler　Vess　would　e　home；　dismayed　by　the　mess　and　disappointed　that　she　had　damaged　herself　before　he'd　had　a　chance　to　play　with　her。　Then　either　there　would　be　turtle　games　or　he　would　experiment　with　her　fractured　limb　to　teach　her　to　enjoy　pain。
　The　first　thing　she　bumped　into　was　the　sofa；　and　she　did　not　fall。　Sliding　her　hand　along　the　upholstered　back；　she　sidled　to　the　left　until　she　came　to　the　end　table。　She　reached　out　and　found　the　lamp　shade；　the　wire　ribs　beneath　the　taut　cloth。
　She　fumbled　around　the　shell　of　the　socket　and　then　around　the　base　of　the　lamp　itself。　As　her　fingers　finally　pinched　the　rotary　swi　ch　she　was　suddenly　certain　that　a　strong　hand　was　going　to　e　out　of　the　darkness　and　cover　hers；　that　Vess　had　crept　back　into　the　house；　that　he　was　sitting　on　the　sofa　only　inches　from　her。　With　amusement；　he　had　been　listening　to　her　struggles；　sitting　like　a　fat；　patient　spider　in　his　tartan…plaid　web；　anticipating　the　pleasure　of　shattering　her　hopes　when　at　last　she　hobbled　this　far。　The　light　would　blink　on；　and　Vess　would　smile　and　wink　at　her　and　say；　Intense。
　The　switch　was　a　nub　of　ice　between　thumb　and　finger。　Frozen　to　her　skin。
　Heart　drumming　like　the　wings　of　a　frantic　fettered　bird；　the　beats　so　hard　that　they　prevented　her　lungs　from　expanding；　the　pulse　in　her　throat　swelling　so　large　that　she　was　unable　to　swallow；　Chyna　broke　her　paralysis　and　clicked　the　switch。　Soft　light　washed　the　room。
　Edgler　Vess　was　not　on　the　sofa。　Not　in　an　armchair。　Not　anywhere　in　the　room。　She　exhaled　explosively；　with　a　shudder　that　rattled　her　chains；　and　leaned　against　the　sofa；　and　gradually　her　fluttering　heart　grew　calmer。
　After　those　gray　hours　of　depression　during　which　she　had　been　emotionally　dead；　she　was　energized　by　this　siege　of　terror。　If　she　ever　suffered　a　killing　bout　of　cardiac　arrhythmia；　the　mere　thought　of　Vess　would　be　more　effective　at　jump…starting　her　heart　than　the　electrical　paddles　of　a　defibrillation　machine。　Fear　proved　that　she　had　e　back　to　life　and　that　she　had　found　hope　again。
　She　shambled　to　the　gray　river…rock　fireplace　that　extended　from　floor　to　ceiling　across　the　entire　north　wall　of　the　room。　The　deep　hearth　in　the　center　wasn't　raised；　which　would　make　her　work　easier。
　She　had　considered　going　down　to　the　cellar；　where　earlier　she　had　seen　a　workbench；　to　examine　the　saws　that　were　surely　in　Vess's　tool　collection。　But　she　had　quickly　ruled　out　that　solution。
　Descending　the　steep　cellar　steps　while　hobbled；　festooned　with　steel　chains；　and　carrying　the　heavy　pine　chair　on　her　back　would　be　a　stunt　not　quite　equivalent　to　leaping　the　Snake　River　Gorge　on　a　rocket…powered　motorcycle；　perhaps；　but　undeniably　risky。　She　was　moderately　confident　of　making　her　way　to　the　bottom　without　pitching　forward　and　cracking　her　skull　like　an　eggshell　on　the　concrete　or　breaking　a　leg　in　thirty…six　places…but　far　from　entirely　confident。　Her　strength　wasn't　what　it　ought　to　have　been；　because　she　hadn't　eaten　much　in　the　past　twenty…four　hours　and　because　she　had　already　been　through　an　exhausting　physical　ordeal。　Furthermore；　all　her　separate　pains　made　her　shaky。　A　trip　to　the　cellar　seemed　simple　enough；　but　under　these　circumstances；　it　would　be　equivalent　to　an　acrobat　slugging　down　four　double　martinis　before　walking　the　high　wire。
　Besides；　even　if　she　could　find　a　sharp…toothed　saw　small　enough　to　be　easily　handled；　she　wouldn't　be　able　to　use　it　at　an　angle　that　would　allow　her　to　bear　down　with　effective　force。　To　free　the　lower　chain　from　the　chair；　she　would　have　to　cut　through　all　three　of　the　horizontal　stretcher　bars　between　the　chair　legs；　each　of　which　was　an　inch　or　an　inch　and　a　half　in　diameter；　around　which　the　links　were　wound。　To　acplish　this；　she　would　have　to　sit；　bend　forward；　and　saw　backward　under　the　chair。　Even　if　the　upper　chain　had　suf