dk.nightchills-第2部分

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y；　two…room　apartment。　The　radio；　his　most　prized　possession；　was　turned　down　low：　music　from　an　all…night　Canadian　station。　He　was　sitting　at　the　table；　next　to　the　window；　staring　fixedly　at　the　shadows　on　the　far　side　of　the　street。　He　had　seen　a　cat　running　along　the　walk　over　there；　and　the　hairs　had　stood　up　on　the　back　of　his　neck。
　There　were　two　things　that　Buddy　Pellineri　hated　and　feared　more　than　all　else　in　life：　cats　and　ridicule。
　For　twenty…five　years　he　had　lived　with　his　mother；　and　for　twenty　years　she　had　kept　a　cat　in　the　house；　first　Caesar　and　then　Caesar　the　Second。　She　had　never　realized　that　the　cats　were　quicker　and　far　more　cunning　than　her　son　and；　therefore；　a　bane　to　him。　Caesar…first　or　second；　it　made　no　difference…　liked　to　lie　quietly　atop　bookshelves　and　cupboards　and　high…boys；　until　Buddy　walked　past。　Then　he　leaped　on　Buddy's　back。　The　cat　never　scratched　him　badly；　for　the　most　part　it　was　concerned　with　getting　a　good　grip　on　his　shirt　so　that　he　could　not　shake　it　loose。　Every　time；　as　if　following　a　script；　Buddy　would　panic　and　run　in　circles　or　dart　from　room　to　room　in　search　of　his　mother；　with　Caesar　spitting　in　his　ear。　He　never　suffered　much　pain　from　the　game；　it　was　the　sudden…
　ness　of　the　attack；　the　surprise　of　it　that　terrified　him。　His　mother　said　Caesar　was　only　being　playful。　At　times　he　confronted　the　cat　to　prove　he　was　unafraid。　He　approached　it　as　it　sunned　on　a　window　sill　and　tried　to　stare　it　down。　But　he　was　always　the　first　to　look　away。　He　couldn't　understand　people　all　that　well；　and　the　alien　gaze　of　the　cat　made　him　feel　especially　stupid　and　inferior。
　He　was　able　to　deal　with　ridicule　more　easily　than　he　could　deal　with　cats；　if　only　because　it　never　came　as　a　surprise。　When　he　was　a　boy；　other　children　had　teased　him　mercilessly。　He　had　learned　to　be　prepared　for　it；　learned　how　to　endure　it。　Buddy　was　bright　enough　to　know　that　he　was　different　from　others。　If　his　intelligence　quotient　had　been　several　points　lower；　he　wouldn't　have　known　enough　to　be　ashamed　of　himself；　which　was　what　people　expected　of　him。　If　his　I。Q。　had　been　a　few　points　higher；　he　would　have　been　able　to　cope；　at　least　to　some　extent；　with　both　cats　and　cruel　people。　Because　he　fell　in　between；　his　life　was　lived　as　an　apology　for　his　stunted　intellect…　a　curse　he　bore　as　a　result　of　a　malfunctioning　hospital　incubator　where　he　had　been　placed　after　being　born　five　weeks　prematurely。
　His　father　had　died　in　a　mill　accident　when　Buddy　was　five；　and　the　first　Caesar　had　entered　the　house　two　weeks　later。　If　his　father　hadn't　died；　perhaps　there　would　have　been　no　cats。　And　Buddy　liked　to　think　that；　with　his　father　alive；　no　one　would　dare　ridicule　him。
　Ever　since　his　mother　had　succumbed　to　cancer　ten　years　ago；　when　he　was　twenty…five；　Buddy　had　worked　as　an　assistant　night　watchman　at　the　Big　Union　Supply　pany　mill。　If　he　suspected　that　certain　people　at　Big　Union　felt　responsible　for　him　and　that　his　job　was　make…work；　he　had　never　admitted　it；　not　even　to　himself。　He　was　on　duty　from　midnight　to　eight；　five　nights　a　week；　patrolling　the　storage　yards；　looking　for　smoke；　sparks；　and　flames。　He　was　proud　of　his　position。　In　the　last　ten　years　he　had　e　to　enjoy　a　measure　of　self…respect　that　would　have　been　inconceivable　before　he　had　been　hired。
　Yet　theme　were　times　when　he　felt　like　a　child　again；　humiliated　by　other　children；　the　brunt　of　a　joke　he　could　not　understand。　His　boss　at　the　mill；　Ed　McGrady；　the　chief　watchman　on　the　graveyard　shift；　was　a　pleasant　man。　He　was　incapable　of　hurting　anyone。　However；　he　smiled　when　others　did　the　teasing。　Ed　always　told　them　to　stop；　always　rescued　his　friend　Buddy…but　always　got　a　laugh　from　it。
　That　was　why　Buddy　hadn't　told　anyone　what　he　had　seen　Saturday　morning；　nearly　twenty…four　hours　ago。　He　didn't　want　them　to　laugh。
　Around　that　time　he　left　the　storage　yard　and　walked　well　off　into　the　trees　to　relieve　himself。　He　avoided　the　lavatory　whenever　he　could　because　it　was　there　the　other　men　teased　him　the　most　and　showed　the　least　mercy。　At　a　quarter　to　five；　he　was　standing　by　a　big　pine　tree；　shrouded　in　darkness；　taking　a　pee；　when　he　saw　two　men　ing　down　from　the　reservoir。　They　carried　hooded　flashlights　that　cast　narrow　yellow　beams。　In　the　backwash　of　the　lights；　as　the　men　passed　within　five　yards　of　him；　Buddy　saw　they　were　wearing　rubber　hip　boots；　as　if　they　had　been　fishing。　They　couldn't　fish　in　the　reservoir；　could　they？　There　were　no　fish　up　there。　Another　thing　。
　each　man　wore　a　tank　on　his　back；　like　skin　divers　wore　on　television。　And　they　were　carrying　guns　in　shoulder　holsters。　They　looked　so　out　of　place　in　the　woods；　so　strange。
　They　frightened　him。　He　sensed　they　were　killers。　Like　on　the　television。　If　they　knew　they　had　been　seen；　they　would　kill　him　and　bury　him　out　here。　He　was　sure　of　it。　But　then　Buddy　always　expected　the　worst；　life　had　taught　him　to　think　that　way。
　He　stood　perfectly　still；　watched　them　until　they　were　out　of　sight；　and　ran　back　to　the　storage　yard。　But　he　quickly　realized　he　couldn't　tell　anyone　what　he　had　seen。　They　wouldn't　believe　him。　And　by　God；　if　he　was　going　to　be　ridiculed　for　telling　what　was　only　the　truth；　then　he　would　keep　it　secret！
　Just　the　same　he　wished　he　could　tell　someone；　if　not　the　watchmen　at　the　mill。　He　thought　and　thought　about　it　but　still　could　not　make　sense　of　those　skin　divers　or　whatever　they　were。　…In　fact；　the　more　he　thought　about　it；　the　more　bizarre　it
　seemed。　He　was　frightened　by　what　he　could　not　understand。　He　was　certain　that　if　he　told　someone；　it　could　be　explained　to　him。　Then　he　wouldn't　be　afraid。　But　if　they　laughed　。
　Well；　he　didn't　understand　their　laughter　either；　and　that　was　even　more　frightening　than　the　mystery　men　in　the　woods。
　On　the　far　side　of　Main　Street；　the　cat　scampered　from　the　heavy　purple　shadows　and　ran　east　toward　Edison's　General　Store；　startling　Buddy　out　of　his　reverie。　He　pressed　against　the　windowpane　and　watched　the　cat　until　it　turned　the　corner。　Afraid　that　it　would　try　to　sneak　back　and　climb　up　to　his　third　floor　rooms；　he　kept　a　watch　on　the　place　where　it　had　vanished。　For　the　moment　he　had　forgotten　the　men　in　the　woods　because　his　fear　of　cats　was　far　greater　than　his　fear　of　guns　and　strangers。
　　
　PART　ONE：
　Conspiracy
　　
　1
　Saturday；　August　13；　1977
　WHEN　HE　DROVE　AROUND　THE　CURVE；　into　the　small　valley；　Paul　Annendale　felt　a　change　e　over　him。　After　five　hours　behind　the　wheel　yesterday　and　five　more　today；　he　was　weary　and　tense…but　suddenly　his　neck　stopped　aching　and　his　shoulders　unknotted。　He　felt　at　peace；　as　if　nothing　could　go　wrong　in　this　place；　as　if　he　were　Hugh　Conway　in　Lost　Horizon　and　had　just　entered　Shangri…La。
　Of　course；　Black　River　was　not　Shangri…La；　not　by　any　stretch　of　the　imagination。　It　existed　and　maintained　its　population　of　four　hundred　solely　as　an　adjunct　of　the　mill。　For　a　pany　town　it　was　quite　clean　and　attractive。　The　main　street　was　lined　with　tall　oak　and　birch　trees。　The　houses　were　New　England　colonials；　white　frame　and　brick　saltboxes。　Paul　supposed　he　responded　to　it　so　positively　because　he　had　no　bad　memories　to　associate　with　it；　only　good　ones；　and　that　could　not　be　said　of　many　places　in　a　man's　life。
　〃There's　Edison's　store！　There's　Edison's！〃　Mark　Annendale　leaned　over　from　the　back　seat；　pointing　through　the　windshield。
　Smiling；　Paul　said；　〃Thank　you；　Coonskin　Pete；　scout　of　the　north。〃
　Rya　was　as　excited　as　her　brother；　for　Sam　Edison　was　like　a　grandfather　to　them。　But　she　was　more　dignified　than　Mark。
　At　eleven　she　yearned　for　the　womanhood　that　was　still　years　ahead　of　her。　She　sat　up　straight　in　her　safety　harness　beside　Paul　on　the　front　seat。　She　said；　〃Mark；　sometimes　I　think　you're　five　years　old　instead　of　nine。〃
　〃Oh；　yeah？　Well；　sometimes　I　think　you're　sixty　instead　of　eleven！〃
　〃Touché；〃　Paul　said。
　Mark　grinned。　Usually；　he　was　no　match　for　his　sister。　This　sort　of　quick　response　was　not　his　style。
　Paul　glanced　sideways　at　Rya　and　saw　that　she　was　blushing。　He　winked　to　let　her　know　that　he　wasn't　laughing　at　her。
　Smiling；　sure　of　herself　again；　she　settled　back　in　her　seat。　She　could　have　topped　Mark's　line　with　a　better　one　and　left　him　mumbling。　But　she　was　capable　of　generosity；　not　a　particularly　mon　quality　in　children　her　age。
　The　instant　the　station　wagon　stopped　at　the　curb；　Mark　was　out　on　the　pavement　He　bounded　up　the　three　concrete　steps；　raced　across　the　wide　roofed　veranda；　and　disappeared　into　the　store。　The　screen　door　slammed　shut　behind　him　just　as　Paul　switched　off　the；　engine。
　Rya　was　determined　not　to　make　a　spectacle　of　herself；　as　Mark　had　done。　She　took　her　time　getting　out　of　the　car；　stretched　and　yawned；　smoothed　the　knees　of　her　jeans；　straightened　the　collar　of　her　dark　blue　blouse；　patted　her　long　brown　hair；　closed　the　car　door；　and　went　up　the　steps。　By　the　time　she　reached　the　porch；　however；　she　too　had　begun　to　run。
　Edison's　General　Store　was　an　entire　shopping　center　in　three　thousand　square　feet。　There　was　one　room；　a　hundred　feet　long　and　thirty　feet　wide；　with　an　ancient　pegged　pine　floor。　The　east　end　of　the　store　was　a　grocery。　The　west　end　held　dry　goods　and　sundries　as　well　as　a　gleaming；　modem　drug　counter。
　As　his　father　had　been　before　him；　Sam　Edison　was　the　town's　only　licensed　pharmacist。
　In　the　center　of　the　room；　three　tables　and　twelve　oak　chairs　were　grouped　in　front　of　a　wood…burning　country　stove。　Ordinarily；　you　could　find　elderly　men　playing　cards　at　one　of
　those　tables；　but　at　the　moment　the　chairs　were　empty。　Edison's　store　was　not　just　a　grocery　and　pharmacy；　it　was　also　Black　River's　munity　center。
　Paul　opened　the　heavy　lid　on　the　soda　cooler　and　plucked　a　bottle　of　Pepsi　from　the　icy　water。　He　sat　down　at　one　of　the　tables。
　Rya　and　Mark　were　standing　at　an　old…fashioned　glass…fronted　candy　counter；　giggling　at　one　of　Sam's　jokes。　He　gave　them　sweets　and　sent　them　to　the　paperback　and　ic　book　racks　to　choose　presents　for　themselves；　then　he　came　over　and　sat　with　his　back　to　the　cold　stove。
　They　shook　hands　across　the　table。
　At　a　glance；　Paul　thought；　Sam　looked　hard　and　mean。　He　was　very　solidly　built；　five　eight；　one　hundred　sixty　pounds；　broad　in　the　chest　and　shoulders。　His　short…sleeved　shirt　revealed　powerful　forearms　and　biceps。　His　face　was　tanned　and　creased；　and　his　eyes　were　like　chips　of　gray　slate。　Even　with　his　thick　white　hair　and　beard；　he　looked　more　dangerous　than　grandfatherly；　and　he　could　have　passed　as　a　decade　younger　than　his　fifty…five　years。
　But　that　forbidding　exterior　was　misleading。　He　was　a　warm　and　gentle　man；　a　push…over　for　children。　Most　likely；　he　gave　away　more　candy　than　he　sold。　Paul　had　never　seen　him　angry；　had　never　heard　him　raise　his　voice。
　〃When　did　you　get　in　town？〃
　〃This　is　our　first　stop。〃
　〃You　didn't　say　in　your　letter　how　long　you'd　be　staying　this　year。　Four　weeks？〃
　〃Six；　I　think。〃
　〃Wonderful！〃　His　gray　eyes　glittered　merrily；　but　in　that　very　craggy　face；　the　expression　might　have　appeared　to　be　malice　to　anyone　who　didn't　know　him　well。　〃You're　staying　the　night　with　us；　as　planned？　You　aren't　going　up　into　t