dk.intensity-第69部分

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hole　on　the　left　manacle。
　Staring　at　the　concrete…block　wall；　tbrough　the　wall；　speaking　soundlessly　to　a　psychic　friend　beyond　all　walls；　Ariel　seemed　to　be　unaware　of　the　drill。　Or　to　her　it　might　have　been　not　a　drill　but　another　object　altogether；　one　that　filled　her　either　with　hope　or　with　fear；　the　thing　of　which　she　spoke　to　her　phantom　friend。
　Even　if　the　girl　picked　up　the　drill　and　focused　her　eyes　on　the　manacle；　the　chance　that　she　would　be　able　to　perform　this　task　seemed　slim。　The　chance　that　she　would　avoid　boring　through　Chyna's　palm　or　wrist　seemed　slimmer　still。
　On　the　other　hand；　although　the　likelihood　of　salvation　from　any　trouble　or　enemy　in　this　life　was　always　slim；　Chyna　had　survived　uncounted　nights　of　blood　rage　and　questing　lust。　Survival　was　far　different　from　salvation；　of　course；　but　it　was　a　prerequisite。
　Anyway；　she　was　ready　to　do　now　what　she　had　never　been　able　to　do　before；　not　even　with　Laura　Templeton：　trust。　Trust　without　reservation。　And　if　this　girl　tried　and　failed；　let　the　drill　slip　and　damaged　flesh　rather　than　steel；　Chyna　wasn't　going　to　blame　her　for　the　failure。　Sometimes；　just　trying　was　a　triumph。
　And　she　knew　Ariel　wanted　to　try。　She　knew。　For　a　minute　or　so；　Chyna　encouraged　the　girl　to　begin；　and　when　that　didn't　work；　she　tried　waiting　in　silence。　But　silence　led　her　thoughts　to　the　bronze　stags　and　the　clock　over　which　they　leaped　on　the　living　room　mantel；　and　in　her　mind's　eye　the　clock　acquired　the　face　of　the　young　man　who　hung　in　the　motor　home　closet；　eyelids　tightly　stitched　and　lips　sewn　shut　in　a　silence　even　deeper　than　that　in　the　cellar。
　With　no　calculation；　surprised　to　hear　what　she　was　doing　but　relying　on　instinct；　Chyna　began　to　tell　Ariel　what　had　happened　on　the　long…ago　night　of　her　eighth　birthday：　the　cottage　in　Key　West；　the　storm；　Jim　Woltz；　the　frantic　palmetto　beetle　under　the　low…slung　iron　bed　。。。
　Drunk　on　Dos　Equis　and　high　on　a　pair　of　small　white　pills　that　he　had　popped　with　the　first　bottle　of　beer；　Woltz　had　teased　Chyna　because　she　had　failed　to　blow　out　all　the　candles　on　her　birthday　cake　in　a　single　breath；　leaving　one　aflame。
　〃This　is　bad　luck；　kid。　Oh；　man；　this　brings　a　world　of　grief　down　on　us。　If　you　don't　get　all　the　candles　out；　you　invite　gremlins　and　trolls　into　your　life；　all　sorts　of　bad　characters　after　your　stash　and　cash。〃
　Just　then　the　night　sky　had　convulsed　with　white　light；　and　the　shadows　of　palm　fronds　had　leaped　across　the　kitchen　windows。　The　cottage　rattled　in　the　shock　waves　of　thunderclaps　as　hard　as　bomb　blasts；　and　the　storm　broke。
　〃See？〃　Woltz　said。　〃If　we　don't　rectify　this　situation　right　away；　then　some　bad　guys　will　get　the　best　of　us　and　chop　us　up　into　bloody　chunks　and　put　us　in　bait　buckets　and　go　out　on　some　deep…sea　boat；　trolling　for　sharks；　using　us　as　chum。　Do　you　want　to　be　shark　chum；　kid？〃
　This　speech　frightened　Chyna；　but　her　mother　found　it　amusing。　Her　mother　had　been　drinking　vodka　with　lemonade　since　late　afternoon。
　Woltz　relit　the　candles　and　insisted　that　Chyna　try　once　more。
　When　she　failed　again　to　extinguish　more　than　seven　with　one　breath；　Woltz　seized　her　hand；　licked　her　thumb　and　index　finger；　his　tongue　lingering　in　a　way　that　disgusted　her；　and　then　forced　her　to　snuff　the　remaining　flame　by　pinching　the　candlewick。　Although　there　was　a　brief　hotness　against　her　skin；　she　had　not　been　burned；　however；　her　fingers　had　been　marked　with　black　smudges　from　the　smoking　wick；　and　the　sight　of　them　had　terrified　her。
　When　Chyna　began　to　cry；　Woltz　held　her　by　one　arm；　keeping　her　in　her　chair；　while　Anne　relit　the　eight；　insisting　that　she　try　again。　The　third　time；　Chyna　was　able　to　extinguish　only　six　candles　with　her　first　shuddery　breath。　When　Woltz　attempted　to　make　her　pinch　both　flames　with　her　fingers；　she　pulled　loose　and　ran　out　of　the　kitchen；　intending　to　flee　to　the　beach；　but　lightning　had　shattered　like　bright　mirrors　around　the　cottage；　the　night　flashing　with　sharp　silver　fragments；　and　thunder　as　fierce　as　the　cannonades　of　warships　boomed　out　of　the　Gulf　of　Mexico；　so　she　had　fled　instead　to　the　small　room　in　which　she　slept；　crawled　under　the　sagging　bed；　into　those　secret　shadows　where　the　palmetto　beetle　waited。
　〃Woltz；　the　stinking　sonofabitch；　came　through　the　house　after　me；〃　Chyna　told　Ariel；　〃shouting　my　name；　knocking　over　furniture；　slamming　doors；　saying　he　was　going　to　chop　me　up　for　chum　and　then　scatter　me　in　the　sea。　Later　I　realized　it　was　an　act。　He'd　been　trying　to　scare　the　crap　out　of　me。　He　always　liked　to　scare　me；　make　me　cry；　'cause　I　didn't　cry　easily　。。。　never　easily。　。　。〃
　Chyna　stopped；　unable　to　go　on。　Ariel　stared　not　toward　the　wall；　as　before；　but　down　at　the　power　drill　on　which　her　hands　were　placed。　Whether　she　saw　the　drill　was　another　matter；　her　eyes　were　still　far　away。
　The　girl　might　not　be　listening；　yet　Chyna　felt　pelled　to　tell　the　rest　of　what　had　happened　that　night　in　Key　West。
　This　was　the　first　time　she　had　ever　revealed　to　anyone；　other　than　Laura；　any　of　the　things　that　had　happened　to　her　when　she　was　a　child。　Shame　had　always　silenced　her；　which　was　inexplicable　because　none　of　the　degradation　she　endured　had　resulted　from　her　own　actions。　She　had　been　a　victim；　small　and　defenseless；　yet　she　was　burdened　with　the　shame　that　all　her　tormentors；　including　her　mother；　were　incapable　of　feeling。
　She　had　hidden　some　of　the　worst　details　of　her　past　even　from　Laura　Templeton；　her　only　good　friend。　Often；　on　the　brink　of　a　revelation　to　Laura；　she　would　pull　back　from　disclosure　and　speak　not　about　the　events　that　she　had　endured　and　not　about　the　people　who　had　tormented　her　but　about　places…Key　West；　Mendocino　County；　New　Orleans；　San　Francisco；　Wyoming…where　she　had　lived。　She　was　lyrical　when　the　subject　was　the　natural　beauty　of　mountains；　plains；　bayous；　or　low　moonlit　breakers　rolling　in　from　the　Gulf　of　Mexico；　but　she　could　feel　anger　tightening　her　face　and　shame　coloring　it　when　she　told　the　harder　truths　about　the　friends　of　Anne　who　had　populated　her　childhood。
　Now　her　throat　was　tight。　She　was　curiously　aware　of　the　weight　of　her　heart；　like　a　stone　in　her　chest；　heavy　with　the　past。
　Sick　with　shame　and　anger；　she　nevertheless　sensed　that　she　must　finish　telling　Ariel　what　had　happened　during　that　Florida　night　of　unextinguished　candles。　Revelation　might　be　a　door　out　of　darkness。
　〃Oh；　God；　how　I　hated　him；　the　greasy　bastard；　stinking　of　beer　and　sweat；　crashing　around　my　room；　drunk　and　screaming；　going　to　cut　me　up　for　bait；　Anne　laughing　out　in　the　living　room　and　then　at　the　doorway；　that　drunken　laugh　of　hers；　hooting　and　shrill；　thinking　he　was　so　funny；　Jesus；　and　all　the　time　it　was　my　birthday；　my　special　day；　my　binhday。〃　Tears　might　have　e　now　if　she　had　not　spent　a　lifetime　learning　to　repress　them。　〃And　the　palmetto　all　over　me；　frantic；　scurrying；　up　my　back　and　into　my　hair。　。　。〃
　In　the　sticky；　suffocating　Key　West　heat；　thunder　had　rattled　in　the　window　and　sung　in　the　bedsprings；　and　cold　blue　reflections　of　lightning　had　fluttered　like　a　dream　fire　across　the　painted　wood　floor。　Chyna　almost　screamed　when　the　tropical　cockroach；　as　big　as　her　little…girl　hand；　burrowed　through　her　long　hair；　but　fear　of　Woltz　kept　her　silent。　She　endured；　as　well；　when　the　beetle　scuttled　out　of　her　hair；　across　her　shoulder；　down　her　slender　arm；　to　the　floor；　hoping　that　it　would　flee　into　the　room；　not　daring　to　fling　it　away　for　fear　that　any　movement　she　made　would　be　heard　by　Woltz　in　spite　of　the　thunder；　in　spite　of　his　shouted　threats　and　curses；　even　over　her　mother's　laughter。　But　the　palmetto　scurried　along　her　side　to　one　of　her　bare　feet　and　began　to　explore　that　end　of　her　again；　foot　and　ankle；　calf　and　thigh。　Then　it　crawled　under　one　leg　of　her　shorts；　into　the　cleft　of　her　butt；　antennae　quivering。　She　had　lain　in　a　paralysis　of　terror；　wanting　only　for　the　torment　to　end；　for　lightning　to　strike　her；　for　God　to　take　her　away　to　somewhere　better　than　this　hateful　world。
　Laughing；　her　mother　had　entered　the　room：　〃Jimmy；　you　nut；　she's　not　here。　She's　gone　outside；　along　the　beach　somewhere；　like　always。〃
　And　Woltz　sa