dk.solesurvivor-第4部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


d　and　left　quickly。
　　'Fifteen　now　and　fifteen　when　I　e　back；'　said　the　kid。
　　Wadding　his　paper　towels　and　tossing　them　in　the　trash　can；　Joe　said；　'Ten　now；　twenty　when　you　e　back。'
　　'Deal。'
　　As　he　took　his　wallet　from　his　pocket；　Joe　said；　'One　is　about　six　two；　tan；　blond；　in　a　green　Hawaiian　shirt。　The　other　is　maybe　five　ten；　brown　hair；　balding；　pale；　in　a　red　and　orange　Hawaiian。'
　　The　kid　took　the　ten…dollar　bill　without　breaking　eye　contact。　'Maybe　this　is　jive；　there's　nobody　like　that　outside；　and　when　I　e　back；　you　want　me　to　go　into　one　of　those　stalls　with　you　to　get　the　other　twenty。'
　　
　　Joe　was　embarrassed；　not　for　being　suspected　of　paedophilia　but　for　the　kid；　who　had　grown　up　in　a　time　and　a　place　that　required　him　to　be　so　knowledgeable　and　street　smart　at　such　a　young　age。　'No　jive。'
　　〃Cause　I　don't　jump　that　way。'
　　'Understood。'
　　At　least　a　few　of　the　men　present　must　have　heard　the　exchange；　but　none　appeared　to　be　interested。　This　was　a　live　and　let　live　age。
　　As　the　kid　turned　to　leave；　Joe　said；　'They　won't　be　waiting　right　outside；　easy　to　spot。　They'll　be　at　a　distance；　where　they　can　see　the　place　but　aren't　easily　seen　themselves。'
　　Without　responding；　the　boy　went　to　the　door；　sandals　clacking　against　the　floor　tiles。
　　'You　take　my　ten　Blicks　and　don't　e　back；'　Joe　warned；　'I'll　find　you　and　kick　your　ass。'
　　'Yeah；　right；'　the　kid　said　scornfully；　and　then　he　was　gone。
　　Returning　to　one　of　the　rust…stained　sinks；　Joe　washed　his　hands　again　so　he　wouldn't　appear　to　be　loitering。
　　Three　men　in　their　twenties　had　gathered　to　watch　the　crippled　cockroach；　which　was　still　chasing　itself　around　one　small　portion　of　the　lavatory　floor。　The　beetle's　track　was　a　circle　twelve　inches　in　diameter。　It　twitched　brokenly　along　that　circumference　with　such　insectile　single…mindedness　that　the　men；　hands　full　of　dollar　bills；　were　placing　bets　on　how　fast　it　would　plete　each　lap。
　　Bending　over　the　sink；　Joe　splashed　handfuls　of　cold　water　in　his　face。　The　astringent　taste　and　smell　of　chlorine　was　in　the　water；　but　any　sense　of　cleanliness　that　it　provided　was　more　than　countered　by　a　stale；　briny　stink　wafting　out　of　the　open　drain。
　　The　building　wasn't　well　ventilated。　The　still　air　was　hotter　than　the　day　outside；　reeking　of　urine　and　sweat　and　disinfectant；　so　noxiously　thick　that　breathing　it　was　beginning　to　sicken　him。
　　The　kid　seemed　to　be　taking　a　long　time。
　　Joe　splashed　more　water　in　his　face　and　then　studied　his　beaded；　dripping　reflection　in　the　streaked　mirror。　In　spite　of　his　tan　and　the　new　pinkness　from　the　sun　that　he　had　absorbed　in　the　past　hour；　he　didn't　look　healthy。　His　eyes　were　grey；　as　they　had　been　all　his　life。　Once；　however；　it　had　been　the　bright　grey　of　polished　iron　or　wet　indulines；　now　it　was　the　soft　dead　grey　of　ashes；　and　the　whites　were　bloodshot。
　　A　fourth　man　had　joined　the　cockroach　handicappers。　He　was　in　his　mid…fifties；　thirty　years　older　than　the　other　three　but　trying　to　be　one　of　them　by　matching　their　enthusiasm　for　pointless　cruelty　and　sophomoric　humour。　The　gamblers　had　bee　an　obstruction　to　the　restroom　traffic。　They　were　getting　rowdy；　laughing　at　the　spasmodic　progress　of　the　insect；　urging　it　on　as　though　it　were　a　thoroughbred　pounding　across　turf　toward　a　finish　line。　'Go；　go；　go；　go；　go！'　They　noisily　debated　whether　its　pair　of　quivering　antenna　were　part　of　its　guidance　system　or　the　instruments　with　which　it　detected　the　scents　of　food　and　other　roaches　eager　to　copulate。
　　Striving　to　block　out　the　voices　of　the　raucous　group；　Joe　searched　his　ashen　eyes　in　the　mirror；　wondering　what　his　motives　had　been　when　he　sent　the　boy　to　scope　out　the　men　in　the　Hawaiian　shirts。　If　they　were　conducting　a　surveillance；　they　must　have　mistaken　him　for　someone　else。　They　would　realize　their　error　soon；　and　he　would　never　see　them　again。　There　was　no　good　reason　to　confront　them　or　to　gather　intelligence　about　them。
　　He　had　e　to　the　beach　to　prepare　himself　for　the　visit　to　the　graveyard。　He　needed　to　submit　himself　to　the　ancient　rhythms　of　the　eternal　sea；　which　wore　at　him　as　waves　wore　at　rock；　smoothing　the　sharp　edges　of　anxiety　in　his　mind；　polishing　away　the　splinters　in　his　heart。　The　sea　delivered　the　message　that　life　was　nothing　more　than　meaningless　mechanics　and　cold　tidal　forces；　a　bleak　message　of　hopelessness　that　was　tranquillising　precisely　because　it　was　brutally　humbling。　He　also　needed　another　beer　or　even　two　to　further　numb　his　senses；　so　the　lesson　of　the　sea　would　remain　with　him　as　he　crossed　the　city　to　the　cemetery。
　　He　didn't　need　distractions。　He　didn't　need　action。　He　didn't　need　mystery。　For　him；　life　had　lost　all　mystery　the　same　night　that　it　had　lost　all　meaning；　in　a　silent　Colorado　meadow　blasted　with　sudden　thunder　and　fire。
　　Sandals　slapping　on　the　tiles；　the　boy　returned　to　collect　the　remaining　twenty　of　his　thirty　dollars。　'Didn't　see　any　big　guy　in　a　green　shirt；　but　the　other　one's　out　there；　sure　enough；　getting　a　sunburn　on　his　bald　spot。'
　　Behind　Joe；　some　of　the　gamblers　whooped　in　triumph。　Others　groaned　as　the　dying　cockroach　pleted　another　circuit　either　a　few　seconds　quicker　or　slower　than　its　time　for　the　previous　lap。
　　Curious；　the　boy　craned　his　neck　to　see　what　was　happening。
　　'Where？'　Joe　asked；　withdrawing　a　twenty　from　his　wallet。
　　Still　trying　to　see　between　the　bodies　of　the　circled　gamblers；　the　boy　said；　'There's　a　palm　tree；　a　couple　of　folding　tables　in　the　sand　where　this　geeky　bunch　of　Korean　guys　are　playing　chess；　maybe　sixty…eighty　feet　down　the　beach　from　here。'
　　
　　Although　high　frosted　windows　let　in　hard　white　sunshine　and　grimy　fluorescent　tubes　shed　bluish　light　overhead；　the　air　seemed　yellow；　like　an　acidic　mist。
　　'Look　at　me；'　Joe　said。
　　Distracted　by　the　cockroach　races；　the　boy　said；　'Huh？'
　　'Look　at　me。'
　　Surprised　by　the　quiet　fury　in　Joe's　voice；　the　kid　briefly　met　his　gaze。　Then　those　troubling　eyes；　the　colour　of　contusions；　refocused　on　the　twenty…dollar　bill。
　　'The　guy　you　saw　was　wearing　a　red　Hawaiian　shirt？'　Joe　asked。
　　'Other　colours　in　it；　but　mostly　red　and　orange；　yeah。'
　　'What　pants　was　he　wearing？'
　　'Pants？'
　　'To　keep　you　honest；　I　didn't　tell　you　what　else　he　was　wearing。　So　if　you　saw　him；　now　you　tell　me。'
　　'Hey；　man；　I　don't　know。　Was　he　wearing　shorts　or　trunks　or　pants…how　am　I　supposed　to　know？'
　　'You　tell　me。'
　　'White？　Tan？　I'm　not　sure。　Didn't　know　I　was　supposed　to　do　a　damn　fashion　report。　He　was　just　standing　there；　you　know；　looking　out　of　place；　holding　his　shoes　in　one　hand；　socks　rolled　up　in　them。'
　　It　was　the　same　man　whom　Joe　had　seen　with　the　walkie…talkie　near　the　lifeguard　station。
　　From　the　gamblers　came　noisy　encouragements　to　the　cockroach；　laughter；　curses；　shouted　offers　of　odds；　the　making　of　bets。　They　were　so　loud　now　that　their　voices　echoed　harshly　off　the　concrete…block　walls　and　seemed　to　reverberate　in　the　mirrors　with　such　force　that　Joe　half　expected　those　silvery　surfaces　to　disintegrate。
　　'Was　he　actually　watching　the　Koreans　play　chess　or　pretending？'　Joe　asked。
　　'He　was　watching　this　place　and　talking　to　the　cream　pies。'
　　'Cream　pies？'
　　'Couple　of　stone…gorgeous　bitches　in　thong　bikinis。　Man；　you　should　see　the　redhead　bitch　in　the　green　thong。　On　a　scale　of　one　to　ten；　she's　a　twelve。　Bring　you　all　the　way　to　attention；　man。'
　　'He　was　ing　on　to　them？'
　　'Don't　know　what　he　thinks　he's　doing；'　said　the　kid。　'Loser　like　him；　neither　of　those　bitches　will　give　him　a　shot。'
　　'Don't　call　them　bitches；'　Joe　said。
　　　What？'
　　'They're　women。'
　　In　the　kid's　angry　eyes；　something　flickered　like　visions　of　switchblades。　'Hey；　who　the　hell　are　you…the　Pope？'
　　The　acidic　yellow　air　seemed　to　thicken；　and　Joe　imagined　that　he　could　feel　it　eating　away　his　skin。
　　The　swirling　sound　of　flushing　toilets　inspired　a　spiralling　sensation　in　his　stomach。　He　struggled　to　repress　sudden　nausea。
　　To　the　boy；　he　said；　'Describe　the　women。'
　　With　more　challenge　in　his　stare　than　ever；　the　kid　said；　'Totally　stacked。　Especially　the　redhead。　But　the　brunette　is　just　about　as　nice。　I'd　crawl　on　broken　glass　to　get　a　whack　at　her；　even　if　she　is　deaf。'
　　'Deaf？'
　　'Must　be　deaf　or　something；'　said　the　boy。　'She　was　putting　a　hearing　aid　kind　of　thing　in　her　ear；　taking　it　out　and　putting　it　in　like　she　couldn't　get　it　to　fit　right。　Real　sweet…looking　bitch。'
　　Even　though　he　was　six　inches　taller　and　forty　pounds　heavier　than　the　boy；　Joe　wanted　to　seize　the　kid　by　the　throat　and　choke　him。　Choke　him　until　he　promised　never　to　use　that　word　again　without　thinking。　Until　he　understood　how　hateful　it　was　and　how　it　soiled　him　when　he　used　it　as　casually　as　a　conjunction。
　　Joe　was　frightened　by　the　barely　throttled　violence　of　his　reaction：　teeth　clenched；　arteries　throbbing　in　neck　and　temples；　field　of　vision　abruptly　constricted　by　a　blood…dark　pressure　at　the　periphery。　His　nausea　grew　worse；　and　he　took　a　deep　breath；　another；　calming　himself。
　　Evidently；　the　boy　saw　something　in　Joe's　eyes　that　gave　him　pause。　He　became　less　confrontational；　turning　his　gaze　once　more　to　the　shouting　gamblers。　'Give　me　the　twenty。　I　earned　it。'
　　Joe　didn't　relinquish　the　bill。　'Where's　your　dad？'
　　'Say　what？'
　　'Where's　your　mother？'
　　'What's　it　to　you？'
　　'Where　are　they？'
　　'They　got　their　own　lives。'
　　Joe's　anger　sagged　into　despair。　'What's　your　name；　kid？'
　　'What　do　you　need　to　know　for？　You　think　I'm　a　baby；　can't　e　to　the　beach　alone？　Screw　you；　I　go　where　I　want。'
　　'You　go　where　you　want；　but　you　don't　have　anywhere　to　be。'
　　The　kid　made　eye　contact　again。　In　his　bruised　stare　was　a　glimpse　of　hurt　and　loneliness　so　deep　Joe　was　shocked　that　anyone　should　have　descended　to　it　by　the　tender　age　of　fourteen。　'Anywhere　to　be？　What's　that　supposed　to　mean？'
　　Joe　sensed　that　they　had　made　a　connection；　that　a　door　had　opened　unexpectedly　for　him　and　for　this　troubled　boy；　and　that　both　of　their　futures　could　be　changed　for　the　better　if　he　could　just　understand　where　they　might　be　able　to　go　after　they　crossed　that　threshold。　But　his　own　life　was　as　hollow…his　store　of　philosophy　as　empty…as　any　abandoned　shell　washed　up　on　the　nearby　shore。　He　had　no　belief　to　share；　no　wisdom　to　impart；　no　hope　to　offer；　insufficient　substance　to　sustain　himself　let　alone　another。
　　He　was　one　of　the　lost；　and　the　lost　cannot　lead。
　　The　moment　passed；　and　the　kid　plucked　the　twenty…dollar　bill　out　of　Joe's　hand。　His　expression　was　more　of　a　sneer　than　a　smile　when　he　mockingly　repeated　Joe's　words；　〃They're　women。〃　Backing　away；　he　said；　'You　get　them　hot；　they're　all　just　bitches。'
　　'And　are　we　all　just　dogs？'　Joe　asked；　but　the　kid　slipped　out　of　the　lavatory　before　he　could　hear　the　question。
　　Although　Joe　had　washed　his　hands　twice；　he　felt　dirty。
　　He　turned　to　the　sinks　again；　but　he　could　not　easily　reach　them。　Six　men　were　now　gathered　immediately　around　the　cockroach；　and　a　few　others　were　hanging　back；　watching。
　　The　crowded　lavatory　was　sweltering；　Joe　was　streaming　sweat；　and　the　yel