sk.everythingseventual-第103部分

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　　'Nice　to　meet　you；　Hector；'　he　said。　'I'm　George　Staub。'
　　My　hand　seemed　to　float　out　like　a　hand　in　a　dream。　I　wish　that　it　had　been　a　dream；　but　it　wasn't；　it　had　all　the　sharp　edges　of　reality。　The　smell　on　top　was　pine。　The　smell　underneath　was　some　chemical；　probably　formaldehyde。　I　was　riding　with　a　dead　man。
　　
　　The　Mustang　rushed　along　Ridge　Road　at　sixty　miles　an　hour；　chasing　its　high　beams　under　the　light　of　a　polished　button　moon。　To　either　side　the　trees　crowding　the　road　danced　and　writhed　in　the　wind。　George　Staub　smiled　at　me　with　his　empty　eyes；　then　let　go　of　my　hand　and　returned　his　attention　to　the　road。　In　high　school　I'd　read　Dracula；　and　now　a　line　from　it　recurred；　clanging　in　my　head　like　a　cracked　bell：　The　dead　drive　fast。
　　Can't　let　him　know　I　know。　This　also　clanged　in　my　head。　It　wasn't　much；　but　it　was　all　I　had。　Can't　let　him　know；　can't　let　him；　can't。　I　wondered　where　the　old　man　was　now。　Safe　at　his　brother's？　Or　had　the　old　man　been　in　on　it　all　along？　Was　he　maybe　right　behind　us；　driving　along　in　his　old　Dodge；　hunched　over　the　wheel　and　snapping　at　his　truss？　Was　he　dead；　too？　Probably　not。　The　dead　drive　fast；　according　to　Bram　Stoker；　and　the　old　man　had　never　gone　a　tick　over　forty…five。　I　felt　demented　laughter　bubbling　in　the　back　of　my　throat　and　held　it　down。　If　I　laughed　he'd　know。　And　he　mustn't　know；　because　that　was　my　only　hope。
　　'There's　nothing　like　a　wedding；'　he　said。
　　'Yeah；'　I　said；　'everyone　should　do　it　at　least　twice。'
　　My　hands　had　settled　on　each　other　and　were　squeezing。　I　could　feel　the　nails　digging　into　the　backs　of　them　just　above　the　knuckles；　but　the　sensation　was　distant。　I　couldn't　let　him　know；　that　was　the　thing。　The　woods　were　all　around　us；　the　only　light　was　the　heartless　bone…glow　of　the　moon；　and　I　couldn't　let　him　know　that　I　knew　he　was　dead。　Because　he　wasn't　a　ghost；　nothing　so　harmless。　You　might　see　a　ghost；　but　what　sort　of　thing　stopped　to　give　you　a　ride？　What　kind　of　creature　was　that？　Zombie？　Ghoul？　Vampire？　None　of　the　above？
　　George　Staub　laughed。　'Do　it　twice！　Yeah；　man；　that's　my　whole　family！'
　　'Mine；　too；'　I　said。　My　voice　sounded　calm；　just　the　voice　of　a　hitchhiker　passing　the　time　of　day…night；　in　this　case…making　agreeable　conversation　as　some　small　payment　for　his　ride。　'There's　really　nothing　like　a　funeral。'
　　'Wedding；'　he　said　mildly。　In　the　light　from　the　dashboard　his　face　was　waxy；　the　face　of　a　corpse　before　the　makeup　went　on。　That　turned…around　cap　was　particularly　horrible。　It　made　you　wonder　how　much　was　left　beneath　it。　I　had　read　somewhere　that　morticians　sawed　off　the　top　of　the　skull　and　took　out　the　brains　and　put　in　some　sort　of　chemically　treated　cotton。　To　keep　the　face　from　falling　in；　maybe。
　　'Wedding；'　I　said　through　numb　lips；　and　even　laughed　a　little…a　light　little　chuckle。　'Wedding's　what　I　meant　to　say。'
　　'We　always　say　what　we　mean　to　say；　that's　what　I　think；'　the　driver　said。　He　was　still　smiling。
　　Yes；　Freud　had　believed　that；　too；　I'd　read　it　in　Psych　101。　I　doubted　if　this　fellow　knew　much　about　Freud；　I　didn't　think　many　Freudian　scholars　wore　sleeveless　tee…shirts　and　baseball　caps　turned　around　backward；　but　he　knew　enough。　Funeral；　I'd　said。　Dear　Christ；　I'd　said　funeral。　It　came　to　me　then　that　he　was　playing　me。　I　didn't　want　to　let　him　know　I　knew　he　was　dead。　He　didn't　want　to　let　me　know　that　he　knew　I　knew　he　was　dead。　And　so　I　couldn't　let　him　know　that　I　knew　that　he　knew　that　。　。　。
　　The　world　began　to　swing　in　front　of　me。　In　a　moment　it　would　begin　to　spin；　then　to　whirl；　and　I'd　lose　it。　I　closed　my　eyes　for　a　moment。　In　the　darkness　the　afterimage　of　the　moon　hung；　turning　green。
　　'You　feeling　all　right；　man？'　he　asked。　The　concern　in　his　voice　was　gruesome。
　　'Yes；'　I　said；　opening　my　eyes。　Things　had　steadied　again。　The　pain　in　the　backs　of　my　hands　where　my　nails　were　digging　into　the　skin　was　strong　and　real。　And　the　smell。　Not　just　pine　air　freshener；　not　just　chemicals。　There　was　a　smell　of　earth；　as　well。
　　'You　sure？'　he　asked。
　　'Just　a　little　tired。　Been　hitchhiking　a　long　time。　And　sometimes　I　get　a　little　carsick。'　Inspiration　suddenly　struck。　'You　know　what；　I　think　you　better　let　me　out。　If　I　get　a　little　fresh　air；　my　stomach　will　settle。　Someone　else　will　e　along　and…'
　　'I　couldn't　do　that；'　he　said。　'Leave　you　out　here？　No　way。　It　could　be　an　hour　before　someone　came　along；　and　they　might　not　pick　you　up　when　they　did。　I　got　to　take　care　of　you。　What's　that　song？　Get　me　to　the　church　on　time；　right？　No　way　I'm　letting　you　out。　Crack　your　window　a　little；　that'll　help。　I　know　it　doesn't　smell　exactly　great　in　here。　I　hung　up　that　air　freshener；　but　those　things　don't　work　worth　a　shit。　Of　course；　some　smells　are　harder　to　get　rid　of　than　others。'
　　I　wanted　to　reach　out　for　the　window…crank　and　turn　it；　let　in　the　fresh　air；　but　the　muscles　in　my　arm　wouldn't　seem　to　tighten。　All　I　could　do　was　sit　there　with　my　hands　locked　together；　nails　biting　into　the　backs　of　them。　One　set　of　muscles　wouldn't　work；　another　wouldn't　stop　working。　What　a　joke。
　　'It's　like　that　story；'　he　said。　'The　one　about　the　kid　who　buys　the　almost　new　Cadillac　for　seven　hundred　and　fifty　dollars。　You　know　that　story；　don't　you？'
　　'Yeah；'　I　said　through　my　numb　lips。　I　didn't　know　the　story；　but　I　knew　perfectly　well　that　I　didn't　want　to　hear　it；　didn't　want　to　hear　any　story　this　man　might　have　to　tell。　'That　one's　famous。'　Ahead　of　us　the　road　leaped　forward　like　a　road　in　an　old　black…and…white　movie。
　　'Yeah；　it　is；　fucking　famous。　So　the　kid's　looking　for　a　car　and　he　sees　an　almost　brand…new　Cadillac　on　this　guy's　lawn。'
　　'I　said　I…'
　　'Yeah；　and　there's　a　sign　that　says　FOR　SALE　BY　OWNER　in　the　window。'
　　There　was　a　cigarette　parked　behind　his　ear。　He　reached　for　it；　and　when　he　did　his　shirt　pulled　up　in　the　front。　I　could　see　another　puckered　black　line　there；　more　stitches。　Then　he　leaned　forward　to　punch　in　the　cigarette　lighter　and　his　shirt　dropped　back　into　place。
　　'Kid　knows　he　can't　afford　no　Cadillac…car；　can't　get　within　a　shout　of　a　Caddy；　but　he's　curious；　you　know？　So　he　goes　over　to　the　guy　and　says；　'How　much　does　something　like　that　go　for？'　And　the　guy；　he　turns　off　the　hose　he's　got…cause　he's　washin　the　car；　you　know…and　he　says；　'Kid；　this　is　your　lucky　day。　Seven　hundred　and　fifty　bucks　and　you　drive　it　away。''
　　The　cigarette　lighter　popped　out。　Staub　pulled　it　free　and　pressed　the　coil　to　the　end　of　his　cigarette。　He　drew　in　smoke　and　I　saw　little　tendrils　e　seeping　out　between　the　stitches　holding　the　incision　on　his　neck　closed。
　　'The　kid；　he　looks　in　through　the　driver's…side　window　and　sees　there's　only　seventeen　thou　on　the　odometer。　He　says　to　the　guy；　〃Yeah；　sure；　that's　as　funny　as　a　screen　door　in　a　submarine。〃　The　guy　says；　〃No　joke；　kid；　pony　up　the　cash　and　it's　yours。　Hell；　I'll　even　take　a　check；　you　got　a　honest　face。〃　And　the　kid　says　。　。　。'
　　I　looked　out　the　window。　I　had　heard　the　story　before；　years　ago；　probably　while　I　was　still　in　junior　high。　In　the　version　I'd　been　told　the　car　was　a　Thunderbird　instead　of　a　Caddy；　but　otherwise　everything　was　the　same。　The　kid　says　I　may　only　be　seventeen　but　I'm　not　an　idiot；　no　one　sells　a　car　like　this；　especially　one　with　low　mileage；　for　only　seven　hundred　and　fifty　bucks。　And　the　guy　tells　him　he's　doing　it　because　the　car　smells；　you　can't　get　the　smell　out；　he's　tried　and　tried　and　nothing　will　take　it　out。　You　see　he　was　on　a　business　trip；　a　fairly　long　one；　gone　for　at　least　。　。　。
　　'。　。　。　a　coupla　weeks；'　the　driver　was　saying。　He　was　smiling　the　way　people　do　when　they're　telling　a　joke　that　really　slays　them。　'And　when　he　es　back；　he　finds　the　car　in　the　garage　and　his　wife　in　the　car；　she's　been　dead　practically　the　whole　time　he's　been　gone。　I　don't　know　if　it　was　suicide　or　a　heart　attack　or　what；　but　she's　all　bloated　up　and　the　car；　it's　full　of　that　smell　and　all　he　wants　to　do　is　sell　it；　you　know。'　He　laughed。　'That's　quite　a　story；　huh？'
　　'Why　wouldn't　he　call　home？'　It　was　my　mouth；　talking　all　by　itself。　My　brain　was　frozen。　'He's　gone　for　two　weeks　on　a　business