pzb.lostsouls-第27部分

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ets　and　their　skull　bongs；　their　Marlboro　hard　packs　and　their　thwarted　dreams…those　were　teenagers。　Nothing　knew　he　was　either　a　child　or　an　ancient　soul；　he　had　never　been　sure　which。
　　He　tugged　at　the　drop　of　onyx　and　the　tiny　silver　razor　blade　that　dangled　from　his　earlobe。　He　fingered　a　ballpoint　pen　in　his　pocket。　Then　he　unzipped　his　backpack；　dug　for　his　notebook；　and　pulled　a　postcard　from　between　the　scribbled；　singed；　softly　ragged　pages。　It　was　the　postcard　he　had　written　while　drinking　his　parents'　whiskey；　but　he　had　not　yet　mailed　it。　The　gold　leaf　caught　the　light　as　he　laid　the　card　on　the　table。
　　GHOST；　he　had　addressed　it；　c/o　LOST　SOULS？　14　BURNT　CHURCH　ROAD；　MISSING　MILE；　NORTH　CAROLINA。　He　wrote　no　zip　code…they　hadn't　included　one　on　the　tape　case。　Maybe　Missing　Mile　was　too　small　to　have　a　zip　code。　But；　thank　whatever　gods　watched　over　him；　he　had　remembered　to　put　a　stamp　on　it。　He　could　hardly　afford　to　buy　one　now。
　　He　finished　his　cigarette；　lit　another；　tried　to　make　out　the　time　through　the　layer　of　grease　on　the　wall　clock；　glanced　over　at　the　bus　station　again。　But　it　was　no　good。　He　couldn't　get　back　on　a　bus　even　if　he　wanted　to。　The　money　from　his　mother's　jewelry　box　had　run　out　two　towns　ago。　His　stomach　hurt；　and　he　had　thought　of　spending　his　one　remaining　dollar　on　a　burger　or　some　pancakes。　But　what　if　it　was　the　last　dollar　he　ever　got？　He　had　to　save　it　for　something　he　really　wanted：　a　new　notebook；　a　cup　of　expensive　coffee；　a　black　slouch　hat　in　a　thrift　shop　somewhere。　He　could　always　steal　cigarettes。　You　had　to　spend　your　last　dollar　on　something　important。
　　He　was　going　to　have　to　start　hitching。　He'd　never　done　it　before…he'd　tried　to　catch　rides　to　Skittle's　or　the　record　store　back　home；　but　the　young　townie　matrons　only　eyed　his　long　raincoat；　his　lank　black　hair；　and　stepped　on　the　gas。　And　hitching　out　on　the　highway；　with　the　wide　flat　sky　stretching　away　overhead　and　the　great　trucks　like　dragons　screaming　by…well；　that　was　a　different　affair。　Anyone　might　stop。　Anything　might　happen。
　　He　kissed　the　postcard　and　dropped　it　into　a　mailbox　near　the　bus　station；　then　crossed　the　parking　lot　and　climbed　a　grassy　embankment　to　the　highway。　Among　the　mosaic　of　dirty　gravel　and　shattered　glass　on　the　shoulder　of　the　road；　he　found　a　single　long　bone　as　dry　and　clean　as　a　fossil。　A　chicken　bone；　probably；　that　somebody　had　tossed　out　a　car　window。　But　it　might　be　raccoon　or　cat　or　even…Nothing　shuddered　pleasurably…a　human　bone。　Maybe　someone　had　been　thrown　from　a　wreck；　or　some　hitchhiker　like　himself　had　been　hit　and　killed　here；　and　the　policemen　who　cleaned　up　the　mess　had　overlooked　a　finger　or　two。　Nothing　put　the　bone　in　his　raincoat　pocket　and　closed　his　hand　around　it。　It　nestled　there；　making　a　place　for　itself　next　to　Lost　Souls？
　　An　hour's　worth　of　cars　went　by；　sleek　and　faceless；　windows　rolled　up　against　the　ing　night。　Colors　melted　across　the　sky；　the　sun　died　its　bloody　evening　death。　Out　here；　away　from　the　lights　of　the　diner　and　the　bus　station；　the　sky　was　a　deep　violet　pricked　with　stars　like　glittering　chips　of　ice。　A　night　wind　was　freshening；　and　Nothing　began　to　shiver。　He　had　almost　decided　to　go　back　and　try　to　sleep　in　the　bus　station　when　the　Lincoln　Continental　screeched　to　a　stop　beside　him。
　　The　car　was　unwieldy　and　enormous；　salmon…pink　splotched　with　great　woundlike　patches　of　rust。　A　rope　trailed　from　the　rear　bumper；　unravelling；　its　end　stained　dark。　The　car's　interior；　once　white　maybe；　reeked　of　something　rancid。
　　As　he　got　in；　Nothing　saw　the　green　plastic　Jesus　on　the　dashboard；　but　before　he　could　reconsider　the　driver　leaned　across　him　and　pulled　the　passenger　door　shut。　Nothing　realized　suddenly　what　the　rancid　smell　was：　sour　milk。　It　made　him　think　of　the　dumpsters　behind　the　school　cafeteria　when　they　hadn't　been　dumped　for　a　while。
　　〃Where　you　headed？〃　After　a　moment's　hesitation；　the　driver　added；　〃Son？〃
　　The　green　Jesus　glowed　faintly　in　the　dimming　light。　Nothing　dragged　his　gaze　away　from　it　and　looked　into　the　driver's　face；　but　not　before　he　had　realized　that　the　eyes　of　the　Jesus　were　painted　red。　〃Missing　Mile；〃　he　said。　It　was　the　only　place　he　could　think　of　on　a　second's　notice。　〃North　Carolina。〃
　　The　man　nodded　and　turned　back　to　the　road。　〃Heard　about　the　place。　Maggot's　nest　of　sin；　nightclubs　and　bars；　fast　women。〃　He　scowled　at　the　highway。
　　Nothing　looked　more　closely　at　the　driver。　He　seemed　very　white。　His　face　was　unlined　and　pale；　with　a　kind　of　crazy　exalted　beauty　to　it；　but　the　hair　that　hung　in　it　was　the　color　of　flat；　hard…packed　ice。　The　man's　hands　were　as　spindly　as　two　white　spiders　on　the　steering　wheel；　and　the　pale　wrists　disappeared　into　folds　of　cloth　as　white　as　milk。　Was　he　wearing　robes？
　　The　white　hands　skittered　on　the　wheel。　〃Have　you　been　saved？〃
　　〃Shit；〃　said　Nothing　softly。
　　〃What　was　that？〃
　　Nothing　looked　out　the　window　at　a　graying　landscape。　Born…agains　made　him　into　a　smartass。　〃Yeah。　I　was　saved　once；　at　a　party。　I　was　almost　sober；　and　my　friend　gave　me　another　drink。〃
　　One　of　the　hands　shot　off　the　wheel。　Nothing　flinched；　thinking　he　was　about　to　get　smacked；　but　the　hand　only　crawled　through　the　clutter　on　the　front　seat　and　came　up　with　a　smeary　purple…inked　tract　clutched　in　its　fingers。　Saved　by　the　Blood　of　the　Lamb。
　　The　man　dropped　the　tract　ill　Nothing's　lap。　A　long　white　finger　touched　Nothing's　leg　through　a　rip　in　his　jeans。　〃You　read　that；〃　he　said。
　　〃Yeah；　sure。　I　will。〃　Nothing　started　to　stuff　the　tract　into　his　backpack。
　　〃Now。〃　The　voice　was　ice…edged。　Nothing　thought　of　frozen　milk；　of　shattering　crystal。　〃You　read　me　them　words　now。　Sing　it　loud　and　clear。〃
　　〃No　way。　Fuck　that。〃　Nothing　pushed　himself　back　against　the　door。　〃Let　me　out。〃
　　〃I　could　tell　you　were　a　sinner　from　the　minute　you　climbed　in。　Christ　shows　them　to　me；　and　it's　my　duty　to　save　them。　I　got　to　do　it。　I　got　to　do　it。〃　The　driver's　voice　sounded　almost　frightened　now。　〃You　got　to　read；　it's　my　duty　to　make　you。〃
　　The　needle　of　the　speedometer　was　jittering；　climbing。　Sixty。　Eighty。　The　Lincoln　slipped　on　the　shoulder；　sprayed　gravel；　righted　itself。
　　Nothing　unfolded　the　tract。　The　last　fiery　sliver　of　sun　was　just　slipping　down　behind　the　pines。　The　tiny　violet　letters　squirmed　and　blurred　before　his　eyes。　〃I　can't　read　it；〃　he　said。　〃Too　dark。〃
　　The　driver　touched　a　button。　Dull　light　flooded　the　car。　The　man　glanced　sideways　at　him；　and　Nothing　saw　that　the　irises　of　his　eyes　were　red。　No；　not　red。　Pink。　Bright　jewel…pink。　Nothing　was　so　intrigued　that　he　forgot　to　be　afraid。　〃Can　you　see？〃　he　asked。
　　A　kind　of　radiance　suffused　the　man's　face；　lighting　up　that　crazy　horrible　beauty；　making　it　glow。　〃My　affliction；〃　he　said。　'They　call　me　albino。　I　call　it　the　hand　of　Jesus　upon　me。　I　am　stricken；　and　I　walk　with　Him。〃
　　〃They're；　pretty；〃　said　Nothing。　〃I　wouldn't　mind　having　pink　eyes。
　　The　radiance　disappeared。　The　speedometer　trembled　up　to　ninety…five。　〃God…given　affliction　ain't　pretty。　You　go　on。　You　got　to　read。〃
　　Nothing　picked　up　the　tract　again。　As　he　shifted　in　his　seat；　his　foot　crushed　something　on　the　floor。　Now　he　could　see　where　the　sour　smell　came　from：　dozens　of　empty　milk　cartons　littered　the　floorboards；　some　fresh；　some　faded　with　age。　Missing　children　smiled　sunnily　up　at　him；　refusing　to　acknowledge　that　now　they　were　probably　just　scattered　bones　in　a　culvert　somewhere。
　　Nothing　took　a　deep　breath　and　opened　the　tract。　The　paper　felt　slick　and　cheap　between　his　fingers。　〃What　is　eternal　life？〃　he　began。
　　〃Go　on；〃　the　driver　told　him。　His　breathing　had　begun　to　quicken。
　　
　　An　hour　later　it　was　full　dark　outside　the　dusty　windows。　The　Lincoln　was　cruising　at　eighty。　The　albino　had　made　him　read　four　more　tracts；　and　between　that　and　the　sour…milk　odor；　Nothing's　throat　felt　as　if　someone　had　poured　hot　sand　down　it。
　　〃'Don't　let　Satan　deceive　you；　for　he　lies。　BEING　SAVED　IS　THE　ONLY　WAY　INTO　HEAVEN。。。'〃　Nothing　faltered。　His　voice　was　as　hoarse　as　if　he　had　just　smoked　a　whole　pack　of　Luckies。　If　the　albino　was　going　to　kill　him　and　d