dk.solesurvivor-第23部分

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　　'Where？'
　　'Is　that　your　car　at　the　curb？'　she　asked。
　　'The　rental　Ford。'
　　'Park　it　in　the　next　block。　Two　blocks。　Wait　there；　and　I'll　pick　you　up。'
　　She　closed　the　door。
　　Joe　stood　on　the　porch　a　moment　longer；　considering　whether　he　should　ring　the　bell　again。　Then　he　decided　that　she　wasn't　likely　to　be　planning　to　run　out　on　him。
　　Two　blocks　south　of　Christman's　house；　he　parked　beside　a　grade…school　playground。　The　swings；　seesaws；　and　jungle　gyms　were　unused　on　this　Sunday　morning。　Otherwise；　he　would　have　parked　elsewhere；　to　be　safe　from　the　silvery　laughter　of　children。
　　He　got　out　of　the　car　and　looked　north。　There　was　no　sign　of　the　woman　yet。
　　Joe　consulted　his　wristwatch。　Ten　minutes　till　ten　o'clock；　Pacific　Time；　an　hour　later　here。
　　In　eight　hours；　he　would　have　to　be　back　in　Westwood　to　meet　Demi…and　Rose。
　　Along　the　sleepy　street　came　a　cat's　paw　of　warm　wind　searching　the　boughs　of　the　pine　trees　for　hidden　birds。　It　rustled　the　leaves　on　the　branches　of　a　nearby　group　of　paper　birches　with　trunks　as　luminous　white　as　choirboys'　surplices。
　　Under　a　sky　grey…white　with　lowering　mist　to　the　west　and　drear　with　gun…metal　thunderheads　to　the　east；　the　day　seemed　to　carry　a　heavy　freight　of　dire　portents。　The　flesh　prickled　on　the　nape　of　Joe's　neck；　and　he　began　to　feel　as　exposed　as　a　red　bull's…eye　target　on　a　shooting　range。
　　When　a　Chevy　sedan　approached　from　the　south　and　Joe　saw　three　men　in　it；　he　moved　casually　around　to　the　passenger's　side　of　the　rental　car；　using　it　for　cover　in　the　event　that　they　opened　fire　on　him。　They　passed　without　glancing　in　his　direction。
　　A　minute　later；　Barbara　Christman　arrived　in　an　emerald…green　Ford　Explorer。　She　smelled　faintly　of　bleach　and　soap；　and　he　suspected　she　had　been　doing　the　laundry　when　he'd　rung　her　bell。
　　As　they　headed　south　from　the　grade　school；　Joe　said；　'Ms。　Christman；　I'm　wondering…where　have　you　seen　a　photograph　of　me？'
　　'Never　have；'　she　said。　'And　call　me　Barbara。'
　　'So；　Barbara。。。　when　you　opened　your　door　a　bit　ago；　how　did　you　know　who　I　was？'
　　'Hasn't　been　a　stranger　at　my　door　in　ages。　Anyway；　last　night　when　you　called　back　and　I　didn't　answer；　you　let　it　ring　more　than　thirty　times。'
　　'Forty。'
　　'Even　a　persistent　man　would　have　given　up　after　twenty。　When　it　kept　ringing　and　ringing；　I　knew　you　were　more　than　persistent。　Driven。　I　knew　you'd　e　soon。'
　　She　was　about　fifty；　dressed　in　Rockports；　faded　jeans；　and　a　periwinkle…blue　chambray　shirt。　Her　thick　white　hair　looked　as　if　it　had　been　cut　by　a　good　barber　rather　than　styled　by　a　beautician。　Well…tanned；　with　a　broad　face　as　open　and　inviting　as　a　golden　field　of　Kansas　wheat；　she　appeared　honest　and　trustworthy。　Her　stare　was　direct；　and　Joe　liked　her　for　the　aura　of　efficiency　that　she　projected　and　for　the　crisp　self…assurance　in　her　voice。
　　'Who　are　you　afraid　of；　Barbara？'
　　'Don't　know　who　they　are。'
　　'I'm　going　to　get　the　answer　somewhere；'　he　warned。
　　'What　I'm　telling　you　is　the　truth；　Joe。　Never　have　known　who　they　are。　But　they　pulled　strings　I　never　thought　could　be　pulled。'
　　'To　control　the　results　of　a　Safety　Board　investigation？'
　　'The　Board　still　has　integrity；　I　think。　But　these　people。。。　they　were　able　to　make　some　evidence　disappear。'
　　'What　evidence？'
　　Braking　to　a　halt　at　a　red　traffic　signal；　she　said；　'What　finally　made　you　suspicious；　Joe；　after　all　this　time？　What　about　the　story　didn't　ring　true？'
　　'It　all　rang　true…until　I　met　the　sole　survivor。'
　　She　stared　blankly　at　him；　as　though　he　had　spoken　in　a　foreign　language　of　which　she　had　no　slightest　knowledge。
　　'Rose　Tucker；'　he　said。
　　There　seemed　to　be　no　deception　in　her　hazel　eyes　but　genuine　puzzlement　in　her　voice　when　she　said；　'Who's　she？'
　　'She　was　aboard　Flight　353。　Yesterday；　she　visited　the　graves　of　my　wife　and　daughters　while　I　was　there。'
　　'Impossible。　No　one　survived。　No　one　could　have　survived。'
　　'She　was　on　the　passenger　manifest。'
　　Speechless；　Barbara　stared　at　him。
　　He　said；　'And　some　dangerous　people　are　hunting　for　her…and　now　for　me。　Maybe　the　same　people　who　made　that　evidence　disappear。'
　　A　car　horn　blared　behind　them。　The　traffic　signal　had　changed　to　green。
　　While　she　drove；　Barbara　reached　to　the　dashboard　controls　and　lowered　the　fan　speed　of　the　air…conditioning；　as　though　chilled。　'No　one　could　have　survived；'　she　insisted。　'This　was　not　your　usual　hit…and…skip　crash；　where　there's　a　greater　or　lesser　chance　of　any　survivors　depending　on　the　angle　of　impact　and　lots　of　other　factors。　This　was　straight　down；　head…in；　catastrophic。'
　　'Head…in？　I　always　thought　it　tumbled；　broke　apart。'
　　'Didn't　you　read　any　newspaper　accounts？'
　　He　shook　his　head。　'Couldn't。　I　just　imagined。。。
　　'Not　a　hit…and…skip　like　most；'　she　repeated。　'Almost　straight　into　the　ground。　Sort　of　similar　to　Hopewell；　September　ninety…four。　A　USAir　737　went　down　in　Hopewell　Township；　on　its　way　to　Pittsburgh；　and　was　just。。。　obliterated。　Being　aboard　Flight　353　would　have　been。。。　I'm　sorry；　Joe；　but　it　would　have　been　like　standing　in　the　middle　of　a　bomb　blast。　A　big　bomb　blast。'
　　'There　were　some　remains　they　were　never　able　to　identify。'
　　'So　little　left　to　identify。　The　aftermath　of　something　like　this。　。　it's　more　gruesome　than　you　can　imagine；　Joe。　Worse　than　you　want　to　know；　believe　me。'
　　He　recalled　the　small　caskets　in　which　his　family's　remains　had　been　conveyed　to　him；　and　the　strength　of　the　memory　pressed　his　heart　into　a　small　stone。
　　Eventually；　when　he　could　speak　again；　he　said；　'My　point　is　that　there　were　a　number　of　passengers　for　whom　the　pathologists　were　unable　to　find　any　remains。　People　who　just。。。　ceased　to　exist　in　an　instant。　Disappeared。'
　　'A　large　majority　of　them；'　she　said；　turning　onto　State　Highway　115　and　heading　south　under　a　sky　as　hard　as　an　iron　kettle。
　　'Maybe　this　Rose　Tucker　didn't　just。。。　　didn't　just　disintegrate　on　impact　like　the　others。　Maybe　she　disappeared　because　she　walked　away　from　the　scene。'
　　'Walked？'
　　'The　woman　I　met　wasn't　disfigured　or　crippled。　She　appeared　to　have　e　through　it　without　a　scar。'
　　Adamantly　shaking　her　head；　Barbara　said；　'She's　lying　to　you；　Joe。　Flat　out　lying。　She　wasn't　on　that　plane。　She's　playing　some　sort　of　sick　game。'
　　'I　believe　her。'
　　'Why？'
　　'Because　of　things　I've　seen。'
　　'What　things？'
　　'I　don't　think　I　should　tell　you。　Knowing　。。。　that　might　put　you　as　deep　in　the　hole　as　I　am。　I　don't　want　to　endanger　you　any　more　than　I　have　to。　Just　by　ing　here；　I　might　be　causing　you　trouble。'
　　After　a　silence；　she　said；　'You　must　have　seen　something　pretty　extraordinary　to　make　you　believe　in　a　survivor。'
　　'Stranger　than　you　can　imagine。'
　　'Still　。　。　。　I　don't　believe　it；'　she　said。
　　'Good。　That's　safer。'
　　They　had　driven　out　of　Colorado　Springs；　through　suburbs；　into　an　area　of　ranches；　travelling　into　increasingly　rural　territory。　To　the　east；　high　plains　dwindled　into　an　arid　flatness。　To　the　west；　the　land　rose　gradually　through　fields　and　woods　toward　foothills　half　screened　by　grey　mist。
　　He　said；　'You're　not　just　driving　aimlessly；　are　you？'
　　'If　you　want　to　fully　understand　what　I'm　going　to　tell　you；　it'll　help　to　see。'　She　glanced　away　from　the　road；　and　her　concern　for　him　was　evident　in　her　kind　eyes。　'Do　you　think　you　can　handle　it；　Joe？'
　　'We're　going　。　。　。　there。'
　　'Yes。　If　you　can　handle　it。'
　　Joe　closed　his　eyes　and　strove　to　suppress　a　welling　anxiety。　In　his　imagination；　he　could　hear　the　screaming　of　the　airliner's　engines。
　　The　crash　scene　was　thirty　to　forty　miles　south　and　slightly　west　of　Colorado　Springs。
　　Barbara　Christman　was　taking　him　to　the　meadow　where　the　747　had　shattered　like　a　vessel　of　glass。
　　'Only　if　you　can　handle　it；'　she　said　gently。
　　The　substance　of　his　heart　seemed　to　condense　even　further；　until　it　was　like　a　black　hole　in　his　chest。
　　The　Explorer　slowed。　She　was　going　to　pull　to　the　shoulder　of　the　highway。
　　Joe　opened　his　eyes。　Even　the　thunderhead…filtered　light　seemed　too　bright。　He　willed　himself　to　be　deaf　to　the　airplane…engine　roar　in　his　mind。
　　'No；'　he　said。　'Don't　stop。　Let's　go。　I'll　be　all　right。　I've　got　nothing　to　lose　now。'
　　
　　They　turned　off　the　state　highway　onto　an　oiled…gravel　road　and　soon　off　the　gravel　onto　a　dirt　lane　that　led　west　through　tall　poplars　with　vertical　branches　streaming　skyward　like　green　fire。　The　poplars　gave　way　to　tamarack　and　birches；　which　surrendered　the　ground　to　white　pines　as　the　lane　narrowed　and　the　woods　thickened。
　　Increasingly　pitted　and　rutted；　wandering　among　the　trees　as　though　weary　and　losing　its　way；　the　lane　finally　pulled　a　blanket　of　weeds　across　itself　and　curled　up　to　rest　under　a　canopy　of　evergreen　boughs。
　　Parking　and　switching　off　the　engine；　Barbara　said；　'We'll　walk　from　here。　It's　no　more　than　half　a　mile；　and　the　brush　isn't　especially　thick。'
　　Although　the　forest　was　not　as　dense　and　primeval　as　the　vast　stands　of　pine　and　spruce　and　fir　on　the　fog…robed　mountains　looming　to　the　west；　civilization　was　so　far　removed　that　the　soulful　hush　was　reminiscent　of　a　cathedral　between　services。　Broken　only　by　the　snapping　of　twigs　and　the　soft　crunch　of　dry　pine　needles　underfoot；　this　prayerful　silence　was；　for　Joe；　as　oppressive　as　the　imagined　roar　of　jet　engines　that　sometimes　shook　him　into　an　anxiety　attack。　It　was　a　stillness　full　of　eerie；　disturbing　expectation。
　　He　trailed　Barbara　between　columns　of　tall　trees；　under　green　vaults。　Even　in　the　late　morning；　the　shadows　were　as　deep　as　those　in　a　monastery　cloister。
　　The　air　was　crisp　with　the　aroma　of　pine。　Musty　with　the　scent　of　toadstools　and　natural　mulch。
　　Step　by　step；　a　chill　as　damp　as　ice　melt　seeped　from　his　bones　and　through　his　flesh；　then　out　of　his　brow；　his　scalp；　the　nape　of　his　neck；　the　curve　of　his　spine。　The　day　was　warm；　but　he　was　not。
　　Eventually　he　could　see　an　end　to　the　ranks　of　trees；　an　open　space　past　the　last　of　the　white　pines。　Though　the　forest　had　begun　to　seem　claustrophobic；　he　was　now　reluctant　to　forsake　the　crowding　greenery　for　the　revelation　that　lay　beyond。
　　Shivering；　he　followed　Barbara　through　the　last　trees　into　the　bottom　of　a　gently　rising　meadow。　The　clearing　was　three　hundred　yards　wide　from　north　to　south…and　twice　that　long　from　the　east；　where　they　had　entered　it；　to　the　wooded　crest　at　the　west　end。
　　The　wreckage　was　gone；　but　the　meadow　felt　haunted。
　　The　previous　winter's　melting　snow　and　the　heavy　spring　rains　had　spread　a　healing　poultice　of　grass　across　the　torn；　burnt　land。　The　grass　and　a　scattering　of　yellow　wildflowers；　however；　could　not　conceal　the　most　terrible　wound　in　the　earth：　a　ragged…edged；　ovate　depression　approximately　ninety　yards　by　sixty　yards。　This　enormous　crater　lay　uphill　from　them；　in　the　northwest　quadrant　of　the　meadow。
　　'Impact　point；'　Barbara　Christman　said。
　　They　set　out　side　by　side；　walking　toward　the　precise　place　where　three…quarters　of　a　million　pounds　had　e　screaming　out　of　the　night　sky　into　the　earth；　but　Joe　quickly　fell　behind　Barbara　and　then　cam