dk.intensity-第9部分

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under　her　shoe；　if　she　moved；　seemed　certain　to　draw　his　attention。
　The　visitor　was　doing　something　so　bizarre　that　Chyna　was　as　transfixed　by　his　activity　as　by　her　fear。　His　hands　were　raised　in　front　of　him；　stretched　as　high　as　he　could　reach；　and　his　spread　fingers　languorously　bed　the　air。　He　seemed　to　be　in　a　trance；　as　though　trying　to　seine　psychic　impressions　from　the　ether。
　He　was　a　big　man。　Six　feet　two；　maybe　even　taller。　Muscular。　Narrow　waist；　enormous　shoulders。　His　denim　jacket　stretched　tautly　across　his　broad　back。
　His　hair　was　thick　and　brown；　neady　barbered　against　the　nape　of　his　bull　neck；　but　Chyna　could　not　see　his　face。　She　hoped　never　to　see　it。
　His　seining　fingers；　stained　with　blood；　looked　crushingly　strong。　He　would　be　able　to　choke　the　life　out　of　her　with　a　single…hand　grip。
　〃e　to　me；〃　he　murmured。
　Even　in　a　whisper；　his　rough　voice　had　a　timbre　and　a　power　that　were　magnetic。　〃E　TO　ME。〃
　He　seemed　to　be　speaking　not　to　a　vision　that　only　he　could　see　but　to　Chyna；　as　if　his　senses　were　so　acute　that　he　had　been　able　to　detect　her　merely　from　the　movement　of　the　air　that　she　had　displaced　when　she'd　stepped　soundlessly　through　the　doorway。
　Then　she　saw　the　spider。　It　dangled　from　the　ceiling　on　a　gossamer　filament　a　foot　above　the　killer's　reaching　hands。　〃Please。〃
　As　if　responding　to　the　man's　supplications；　the　spider　spun　out　its　thread；　descending。
　The　killer　stopped　reaching；　tamed　his　hand　palm…up。　〃Little　one；〃　he　breathed。
　Fat　and　black；　the　obedient　spider　reeled　itself　down　into　the　big　open　palm。
　The　killer　brought　his　hand　to　his　mouth　and　tipped　his　head　back　slightly。　He　either　crushed　the　spider　and　ate　it…or　ate　it　alive。
　He　stood　motionless；　savoring。　Finally；　without　looking　back；　he　went　to　the　head　of　the　stairs　on　the　right；　at　the　midpoint　of　the　hallway；　and　descended　spider…quick　and　almost　spider…silent　to　the　first　floor。
　Chyna　shuddered；　stunned　to　be　alive。
　The　house　held　a　drowning　depth　of　stillness　as　a　dam　held　water；　with　tremendous　pent…up　power　and　pressure　on　the　breast。
　When　Chyna　found　the　courage　to　move；　she　cautiously　approached　the　head　of　the　stairs。　She　feared　that　the　visitor　had　not　fully　descended　to　the　first　floor；　that　he　was　toying　with　her；　standing　just　out　of　sight；　waiting；　smiling。　He　would　reach　for　her；　palms　up；　and　say；　e　to　me。
　She　held　her　breath；　risked　exposure；　and　looked　down。　The　stairs　curved　through　gradients　of　gloom　to　the　foyer　below。　She　could　see　just　well　enough　to　be　sure　that　he　wasn't　there。
　As　far　as　Chyna　could　discern；　no　lamps　were　on　downstairs。　She　wondered　what　he　was　doing　in　that　darkness；　guided　only　by　the　pale　moonglow　at　the　windows。　Perhaps　he　was　in　a　er；　crouched　like　a　spider；　sensitive　to　the　faintest　changes　in　the　patterns　of　the　air；　dreaming　of　silent　stalkings　and　the　frenzied　rending　of　prey。
　She　went　quickly　past　the　head　of　the　stairs；　into　the　last　length　of　hallway；　to　the　next　open　door　and　the　second　source　of　amber　light；　dreading　what　she　might　find。　But　she　could　cope　with　both　the　dread　and　the　finding。　it　was　always　not　knowing；　turning　away　from　truth；　that　caused　night　sweats　and　bad　dreams。
　This　room　was　smaller　than　the　master　suite；　with　no　sitting　area。　A　corner　desk。　A　double　bed。　One　nightstand　with　a　brass　lamp；　a　dresser；　a　vanity　with　a　padded　bench。
　On　the　wall　above　the　bed　was　a　poster…size　portrait　of　Freud。　Chyna　loathed　Freud。　But　Laura；　dear　of　heart　and　idealistic；　clung　to　a　belief　in　many　aspects　of　Freudian　theory；　she　embraced　the　dream　of　a　guiltless　world；　with　everyone　a　victim　of　his　troubled　past　and　yearning　for　rehabilitation。
　Laura　was　lying　facedown　on　the　bed；　atop　the　sheets　and　the　blankets。　Her　wrists　were　handcuffed　behind　her。　A　second　pair　of　handcuffs　secured　her　ankles。　Linking　both　of　those　shiny　steel　restraints　was　a　shackling　chain。
　She　had　been　violated。　The　pants　of　her　baggy　blue　pajamas　had　been　cut　off　with　a　neatness　worthy　of　a　conscientious　tailor；　the　blue　panels　of　cloth　had　been　smoothed　across　the　blankets　to　both　sides　of　her。　The　pajama　shirt　had　been　shoved　up　her　back；　now　it　was　gathered　in　rumpled　folds　across　her　shoulders　and　the　nape　of　her　neck。
　Chyna　moved　deeper　into　the　room；　her　fear　equaled　now　by　a　swelling　sorrow　that　seemed　to　enlarge　her　heart　yet　leave　it　cold　and　empty。　When　she　caught　a　faint　odor　of　spilled　semen；　her　fear　and　sorrow　were　matched　by　anger。　As　she　stooped　beside　the　bed；　her　hands　curled　into　such　hard　fists　that　her　fingernails　pressed　painfully　into　her　palms。
　Sweat…damp　blond　hair　was　pasted　to　the　side　of　Laura's　face。　Her　delicate　features　were　salt…pale　and　clenched　in　anxiety；　and　her　eyes　were　squeezed　tightly　shut。
　She　was　not　dead。　Not　dead。　It　seemed　impossible。　The　girl…terror　had　reduced　her　to　the　condition　of　a　girl…was　murmuring　so　softly　that　the　words　couldn't　be　heard　even　from　a　distance　of　inches；　yet　so　urgently　that　the　meaning　was　harrowingly　clear。　It　was　a　prayer；　one　that　Chyna　had　recited　on　numerous　nights　long　ago；　in　far　places：　a　prayer　for　mercy；　a　plea　to　be　delivered　from　this　horror　untouched　and　alive；　dear　God；　please；　untouched　and　alive。
　On　those　other　nights；　Chyna　had　been　spared　both　violation　and　death。　Already；　half　of　Laura's　petition　had　gone　unanswered。
　Chyna's　throat　tightened　with　anguish；　and　she　could　barely　speak：　〃It's　me。〃　Laura's　eyelids　sprang　open；　and　her　blue　eyes　rolled　like　those　of　a　terrified　horse；　wide　with　disbelief。　〃All　dead。〃
　〃Ssshhh；〃　Chyna　whispered。
　〃Blood。　His　hands。〃
　〃Ssshhh。　I'll　get　you　out　of　here。〃
　〃Stank　like　blood。　Jack's　dead。　Nina。　Everyone。〃
　Jack；　her　brother；　whom　Chyna　had　not　met。　Nina；　her　sister…in…law。　Evidently　the　killer　had　been　to　the　vineyard　manager's　bungalow　before　ing　to　the　main　house。　Four　dead。　There　was　no　help　to　be　found　anywhere　on　the　sprawling　property。
　Chyna　glanced　worriedly　at　the　open　door；　then　quickly　rose　to　test　the　handcuffs　on　Laura's　wrists。　Securely　locked。
　With　fettered　hands　and　fettered　ankles　linked　by　a　chain；　Laura　was　thoroughly　hobbled。　She　wouldn't　be　able　to　stand；　let　alone　walk。
　Chyna　wasn't　strong　enough　to　carry　her。　She　saw　her　reflection　in　the　vanity　mirror　across　the　room；　and　she　realized　with　a　shock　how　nakedly　her　terror　was　revealed　in　her　wrenched　face。
　Trying　to　look　more　posed　for　Laura's　sake；　Chyna　stopped　beside　the　bed　again　and　murmured　almost　as　softly　as　her　friend　had　been　praying：　〃Is　there　a　gun？〃
　〃What？〃
　〃A　gun　in　the　house？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Nowhere　in　the　house？〃
　〃No；　no。〃
　〃Shit。〃
　〃Jack。〃
　〃What？〃
　〃Has　one。〃
　〃A　gun？　At　the　bungalow？〃　Chyna　asked。
　〃Jack　has　a　gun。〃
　Chyna　didn't　have　time　to　get　to　the　bungalow　and　back　before　the　killer　returned　to　Laura's　room。　Anyway；　more　likely　than　not；　he　had　already　found　the　gun　and　confiscated　it。　〃Do　you　know　who　he　is？〃
　〃No。〃　Laura's　sky…blue　eyes　appeared　to　darken　with　despair。　〃Get　out。〃
　〃I'll　find　a　weapon。〃
　〃Get　out；〃　Laura　whispered　more　urgently；　cold　sweat　glistening　on　her　brow。
　〃A　knife；〃　Chyna　said。
　〃Don't　die　for　me。〃　Then；　sotto　voce；　tremulously　but　fiercely；　fiercely　she　said：　〃Run；　Chyna。　Oh；　God；　please　run！〃
　〃I'll　be　back。〃
　〃Run。〃
　
　From　outside；　a　sound　arose。　A　truck　engine。　Approaching。　Astonished；　Chyna　shot　to　her　feet。　〃Someone's　ing。　Help's　ing。〃
　Laura's　bedroom　was　toward　the　front　of　the　house。　Chyna　stepped　to　the　nearer　of　two　windows；　which　provided　a　view　of　the　half…mile　driveway　leading　in　from　the　two…lane　county　road。
　A　quarter　of　a　mile　away；　bright　headlights　pierced　the　night。　judging　by　the　height　of　the　lights　from　the　ground；　Chyna　concluded　that　the　truck　was　big。
　How　miraculous　that　anyone　would　show　up　at　this　hour；　in　this　lonely　place。
　As　a　thrill　of　hope　swept　through　Chyna；　she　realized　that　the　killer　would　have　heard　the　engine　too。　The　man　or　men　in　the　truck　wouldn't　know　what　trouble　they　were　getting　into。　When　they　stopped　in　front　of　the　house；　they　would　be　dead　men　breathing。　
　〃Hold　on；〃　she　said；　touched　Laura's　damp　forehead　to　reassure　her；　and　then　crossed　the　room