dk.intensity-第78部分

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　Chyna　snatched　the　hammer　from　the　floor　and　slipped　the　handle　under　the　waistband　of　her　blue　jeans。　Even　through　her　red　cotton　sweater；　the　steel　head　was　cold　against　her　belly。
　The　dog　appeared　in　the　opening　above；　a　predatory　silhouette　in　the　moonlight。
　Chyna　picked　up　the　stepstool；　which　had　a　tubular　metal　handle　that　served　as　a　backrail　when　the　top　step　was　used　as　a　chair。　She　eased　backward　to　the　bathroom　door；　realizing　just　how　narrow　the　hall　was。　She　didn't　have　enough　room　to　swing　the　stool　like　a　club；　but　it　was　still　useful。　She　held　it　in　front　of　her　in　the　manner　of　a　lion　tamer　with　a　chair。
　〃e　on；　you　bastard；〃　she　said　to　the　looming　dog；　dismayed　to　hear　how　shaky　her　voice　was。　〃e　on。〃
　The　animal　hesitated　warily　at　the　brink　of　the　opening　above。　She　didn't　dare　turn　away。　The　moment　she　turned；　it　would　e　in　after　her。
　She　raised　her　voice；　shouting　angrily　at　the　Doberman；　taunting　it：　〃e　on！　What're　you　waiting　for？　What　the　hell　are　you　scared　of；　you　chickenshit？〃
　The　dog　growled。
　〃e　on；　e　on；　damn　you；　e　down　here　and　get　it！　e　and　get　it！〃
　Snarling；　the　Doberman　jumped。　The　instant　that　it　landed　in　the　hallway；　it　seemed　to　ricochet　off　the　floor　and　straight　toward　Chyna　without　any　hesitation。
　She　didn't　take　a　defensive　position。　That　would　be　death。　She　had　one　chance。　One　slim　chance。　Aggressive　action。　Go　for　it。　She　immediately　rushed　the　dog；　meeting　its　attack　head…on；　jamming　the　legs　of　the　stool　at　it　as　though　they　were　four　swords。
　The　impact　of　the　dog　rocked　her；　almost　knocked　her　down；　but　then　the　animal　rebounded　from　her；　yelping　in　pain；　perhaps　having　taken　one　of　the　stool　legs　in　an　eye　or　hard　against　the　tip　of　its　snout。
　It　tumbled　toward　the　back　of　the　short　hall。
　As　the　Doberman　sprang　to　its　feet；　it　seemed　a　little　wobbly。　Chyna　was　on　top　of　it；　jabbing　mercilessly　with　the　metal　legs　of　the　stool；　pressing　the　dog　backward；　keeping　it　off　balance　so　it　couldn't　get　around　the　stool　and　at　her　side；　or　under　the　stool　and　at　her　ankles；　or　over　the　stool　and　at　her　face。　In　spite　of　its　injuries；　the　dog　was　quick；　strong；　dear　God；　hugely　strong；　and　as　lithe　as　a　cat。　The　muscles　in　her　arms　burned　with　the　effort；　and　her　heart　hammered　so　hard　that　her　vision　brightened　then　dimmed　with　each　hard　pulse；　but　she　dared　not　relent　even　for　a　second。　When　the　stool　began　to　fold　shut；　pinching　two　of　her　fingers；　she　popped　it　open　at　once；　jabbed　the　legs　into　the　dog；　jabbed；　jabbed；　until　she　drove　the　animal　against　the　bedroom　door；　where　she　caged　it　between　that　panel　of　Masonite　and　the　legs　of　the　stool。　The　Doberman　squirmed；　snarled；　snapped　at　the　stool；　clawed　at　the　floor；　clawed　at　the　door；　kicked；　frantic　to　escape　its　trap。　It　was　Chyna's　weight　and　all　muscle；　not　containable　for　long。　She　leaned　her　body　against　the　stool；　pressing　it　into　the　dog；　then　let　go　of　the　stool　with　one　hand　so　she　could　extract　the　hammer　from　her　waistband。　She　couldn't　control　the　stool　as　well　with　one　hand　as　with　two；　and　the　dog　eeled　up　the　bedroom　door　and　came　over　the　top　of　its　cage；　straining　its　head　forward；　snapping　savagely　at　her；　its　teeth　huge；　slobber　flying　from　its　chops；　eyes　black　and　bloody　and　protuberant　with　rage。　Still　leaning　against　the　stool；　Chyna　swung　the　big　hammer。　It　struck　with　a　pock　on　bone；　and　the　dog　screamed。　Chyna　swung　the　hammer　again；　landing　a　second　blow　on　the　skull；　and　the　dog　stopped　screaming；　slumped。
　She　stepped　back。　The　stool　clattered　to　the　floor。　The　dog　was　still　breathing。　It　made　a　pitiful　sound。　Then　it　tried　to　get　up。
　She　swung　the　hammer　a　third　time。　That　was　the　end　of　it。　Breathing　raggedly；　dripping　cold　sweat；　Chyna　dropped　the　hammer　and　stumbled　into　the　bathroom。　She　threw　up　in　the　toilet；　purging　herself　of　Vess's　coffeecake。
　She　did　not　feel　triumphant。　In　her　entire　life；　she　had　never　killed　anything　larger　than　a　palmetto　beede…until　now。　Self…defense　justified　the　killing　but　didn't　make　it　easier。
　Acutely　aware　of　how　little　time　they　had　left；　she　nevertheless　paused　at　the　sink　to　splash　handfuls　of　cold　water　in　her　face　and　to　rinse　out　her　mouth。
　Her　reflection　in　the　mirror　scared　her。　Such　a　face。　Bruised　and　bloodied。　Eyes　sunken；　encircled　by　dark　rings。　Hair　dirty　and　tan…gled。　She　looked　crazed。
　In　a　way；　she　was　crazy。　Crazy　with　a　love　of　freedom；　with　an　urgent　thirst　for　it。　Finally；　finally。　Freedom　from　Vess　and　from　her　mother。　From　the　past。　From　the　need　to　understand。　She　was　crazy　with　the　hope　that　she　could　save　Ariel　and　at　last　do　more　than　merely　survive。
　The　girl　was　on　a　sofa　in　the　lounge；　hugging　herself；　rocking　back　and　forth。　She　was　making　her　first　sound　since　Chyna　had　seen　her　through　the　view　port　in　the　padded　door　the　previous　morning：　a　wretched；　rhythmic　moaning。
　〃It's　okay；　honey。　Hush　now。　Everything's　going　to　be　all　right。　You'll　see。〃
　The　girl　continued　moaning　and　would　not　be　soothed。　Chyna　led　her　forward；　settled　her　into　the　copilot's　seat；　and　engaged　her　safety　harness。　〃We're　getting　out　of　here；　baby。　It's　all　over　now。〃
　She　swung　into　the　driver's　seat。　The　engine　was　running　and　not　overheated。　According　to　the　fuel　gauge；　they　had　plenty　of　gasoline。　Good　oil　pressure。　No　warning　lights　were　aglow。
　The　instrument　panel　included　a　clock。　Maybe　it　didn't　keep　time　well。　The　motor　home　was　old；　after　all。　The　clock　read　ten　minutes　till　midnight。
　Chyna　switched　on　the　headlights；　disengaged　the　emergency　brake；　and　put　the　motor　home　in　gear。
　She　remembered　that　she　must　not　risk　spinning　the　wheels　and　digging　tire…clutching　holes　in　the　lawn。　Instead　of　accelerating；　she　allowed　the　vehicle　to　drift　slowly　forward；　off　the　grass；　and　then　she　turned　left　onto　the　driveway；　heading　east。
　She　wasn't　accustomed　to　driving　anything　as　large　as　the　motor　home；　but　she　handled　it　well　enough。　After　what　she'd　been　through　in　the　past　twenty…four　hours；　there　wasn't　a　vehicle　in　the　world　that　would　be　too　much　for　her　to　handle。　If　the　only　thing　available　had　been　an　army　tank；　she　would　have　figured　out　how　to　work　the　co'　trols　and　how　to　wrestle　with　the　steering；　and　she　would　have　driven　it　out　of　here。
　Glancing　at　the　side　mirror；　she　watched　the　log　house　dwindling　into　the　moonlit　night　behind　them。　The　place　was　full　of　light　and　appeared　as　weling　as　any　home　that　she　had　ever　seen。
　Ariel　had　fallen　silent。　She　was　bent　forward　in　her　harness。　Her　hands　were　buried　in　her　hair；　and　she　was　clutching　her　head　as　if　she　felt　it　would　explode。
　〃We're　on　our　way；〃　Chyna　assured　her。　〃Not　far　now；　not　far。〃
　The　girl's　face　was　no　longer　placid；　as　it　had　been　since　Chyna　first　glimpsed　her　in　the　lamplight　in　the　doll…crowded　room；　and　it　was　not　lovely　either。　Her　features　were　contorted　in　an　expression　of　wrenching　anguish；　and　she　appeared　to　be　sobbing；　although　she　produced　no　sound　and　no　tears。
　It　was　impossible　to　know　what　torments　the　girl　was　suffering。　Perhaps　she　was　terrified　that　they　would　encounter　Edgler　Vess　and　be　stopped　only　a　few　feet　short　of　escape。　Or　perhaps　she　wasn't　reacting　to　anything　here；　now；　but　was　lost　in　a　terrible　moment　of　the　past；　or　was　responding　to　imaginary　events　in　the　fantasy　Elsewhere　into　which　Vess　had　driven　her。
　They　topped　the　bald　rise　and　started　down　a　long　gradual　slope　where　trees　crowded　close　to　the　driveway。　Chyna　was　sure　that　Vess　had　paused　on　both　sides　of　a　gate　the　previous　morning；　when　he　had　driven　onto　the　property；　and　she　figured　it　couldn't　be　much　farther　ahead。
　Vess　hadn't　gotten　out　of　the　motor　home　to　deal　with　the　gate。　It　must　be　electrically　operated。　Gripping　the　steering　wheel　with　one　hand；　Chyna　slid　open　the　tambour　top　on　the　console　box　between　the　seats。　She　fumbled　through　the　contents　and　found　a　remote…control　device　just　as　the　gate　appeared　in　the　headlights。
　The　barrier　was　formidable。　Steel　posts。　Tubular　steel　rails　and　crossbars。　Barbed　wire。　She　hoped　to　God　that　she　wouldn't　have　to　ram　it；　because　even　the　big　motor　home　might　not　be　able　to　break　it　down。
　She　pointed　the　remote　control　at　the　windshield；　pr