sk.theplant- 第44节

　　〃Fuu…uck；〃　Herb　said　in　a　horrified　whisper。　〃Look　on　the　side　of　her　door。〃
　　〃It's　not　Kool…Aid；　I　can　tell　you　that　much；〃　Bill　said。
　　〃More　on　the　carpet；　too；〃　Roger　said。　Herb　used　the　f…word　again；　once　more　breaking　it　into　two　syllables。
　　There　was　no　blood　on　the　ivy…runners；　I　noticed；　and　although　I　didn't　want　to　think　about　that　too　much；　I　suppose　I　know　why　not。　Our　buddy　gets　hungry；　and　doesn't　that　make　perfect　sense？　There's　so　much　more　of　it　to　support　now；　so　many　new　outposts　and　colonies；　and　our　psychic　vibrations　can　probably　offer　it　only　so　much　in　the　way　of　nourishment。　There's　an　old　blues　tune　on　the　subject。　〃Grits　ain't　groceries；〃　the　chorus　goes。　By　the　same　token；　friendly　thoughts　and　supportive　editors　ain't。　。　。
　　Well；　they　ain't　blood。
　　Are　they？
　　Roger　looked　into　Herb's　office　and　I　looked　into　mine。　My　place　looked　okay；　but　I　knew　damned　well　Carlos　had　been　there；　and　not　just　because　of　the　fancy…shmancy　attache　case　sitting　on　top　of　the　desk。　I　could　almost　smell　him。
　　〃Things　are　a　trifle　disarranged　in　your　cubby；　Herbert；〃　Bill　said　in　a　really　terrible　English　butler　voice。　Maybe　it　was　his　way　of　trying　to　lighten　the　tension。　〃In　fact；　I　believe　someone　may　have　urinated　a　bit　in　theah。〃
　　Herb　glanced　in；　saw　the　destruction；　and　grunted　an　oath　that　sounded　almost　absent…minded　before　turning　to　Sandra's　office。　By　then；　I　was　getting　a　pretty　clear　picture。　Two　crazy　men；　both　with　grudges　against　different　Zenith　House　editors。　I　didn't　care　how　they　got　in　or　which　of　them　had　arrived　first；　but　I　was　curious　about　how　far　apart　in　time　they'd　been。　If　they'd　met　in　the　lobby　and　had　their　lunatic　shootout　there；　they　could　have　saved　us　a　lot　of　trouble。　Only　that　probably　wasn't　the　way　Zenith　wanted　it。　Aside　from　the　fact　that　Carlos　may　have　owed　a　rather　large　debt　to　something　（or　Something）　in　the　Great　Beyond；　there's　the　fact　that　grits　ain't　groceries。　Telepathic　plants　get　more　than　lonely；　it　seems。　Pore　little　fellers　get　hungry；　too。
　　It's　certainly　something　to　think　about。
　　〃Roger？〃　Herb　asked。　He　was　still　standing　by　his　door；　and　he　sounded　timid　again。　〃She。　。　。　she's　not　in　there；　is　she？〃
　　〃No；〃　Roger　said　absently；　〃you　know　she's　not。　Sandra's　on　her　way　back　from　Cony　Island。　But　our　friend　from　Central　Falls　is　finally　present　and　accounted　for。〃
　　We　gathered　around　the　door　and　looked　in。
　　Carlos　Detweiller　lay　face…down　in　what　Anthony　LaScorbia　would　undoubtedly　call　〃a　gruesome　pool　of　spreading　blood。〃　The　back　of　his　suit…coat　was　pulled　upward　in　a　tent…shape；　and　the　tip　of　a　knife　protruded　through　it。　His　hands　were　outstretched　toward　the　desk。　His　feet；　pointing　toward　the　door；　had　already　been　partially　covered　by　thin　green　bows　of　ivy。　Zenith　had　actually　pulled　off　one　of　his　loafers　and　worked　his　way　through　the　sock　beneath。　Maybe　there　was　a　hole　in　the　sock　to　begin　with；　but　somehow　I　don't　think　so。　Because　there　were　broken　strands　of　ivy；　you　see。　As　if　it　had　tried　to　pull　him　out；　out　and　down　toward　the　main　mass　of　the　growth；　and　had　been　unable。　You　could　almost　feel　the　hunger。　The　longing　to　have　his　carcass　the　way　it　had　undoubtedly　already　had　the　General's。
　　〃This　is　where　they　fought；　of　course；〃　Roger　said；　still　in　that　absent　tone　of　voice。　He　saw　the　Rainy　Day　Friend　lying　on　the　floor；　picked　it　up；　sniffed　at　the　little　hole　on　top；　and　winced。　His　eyes　began　to　water　at　once。
　　〃If　you　set　off　the　siren　in　that　thing　again；　I　will　be　forced　to　kill　you　as　dead　as　the　asshole　at　your　feet；〃　Bill　said。
　　〃I　think　the　battery's　fried；〃　Roger　said；　but　he　set　the　thing　down　on　Sandra's　desk　very　carefully；　also　being　careful　not　to　step　on　Detweiller's　outstretched　hand。
　　Carlos　had　been　in　my　office；　because　I　was　the　one　against　whom　he'd　built　his　grudge。　Then　he　left　for　something。
　　〃I　think　it　was　food；〃　Bill　said。　〃He　got　hungry　and　went　looking　for　food。　The　General　jumped　him。　Carlos　got　to　Sandra's　gadget　before　Hecksler　could　give　him　the　coup　de　grace；　but　it　wasn't　enough。　Do　you　see　that　part；　John？〃
　　I　shook　my　head。　Maybe　I　just　didn't　want　to　see　it。
　　〃What's　this？〃　Bill　was　out　in　the　hall。　He　dropped　to　one　knee；　moved　aside　a　clump　of　ivy；　and　showed　us　a　guitar　pick。　Like　the　leaves　of　Zenith　himself；　the　pick　was　as　clean　as　a　whistle。　No　blood；　I　mean。
　　〃Something　printed　on　it；〃　Bill　said；　and　squinted。　〃JUST　A　CLOSER　WALK　WITH　THEE；　it　says。〃
　　Roger　looked　at　me；　finally　startled　out　of　his　daze。　〃Good　God；　John；〃　he　said；　〃that　was　him！　He　was　her！〃
　　〃What　are　you　talking　about？〃　Bill　asked；　turning　the　pick　over　and　over　in　his　fingers。　〃What　are　you　thinking　about？　Who's　Crazy　Guitar　Gertie？〃
　　〃The　General；〃　I　said　hollowly；　and　wondered　if　he'd　had　the　knife　when　I　gave　him　the　two　dollars。　If　Herb　had　been　there　that　day；　he'd　be　dead　now。　There　was　absolutely　no　question　about　that　in　my　mind。　And　I　myself　was　lucky　to　be　alive。
　　〃Well；　I　wasn't　there；　and　you　are　alive；〃　Herb　said。　He　spoke　with　his　old　don't…trouble…me…with…the…details　irritability；　but　his　face　was　still　pale　and　shocked；　the　face　of　a　man　who　is　running　entirely　on　instinct。　〃And　congratulations；　Gelb；　you　just　left　your　dabs　on　that　guitar　pick。　Better　wipe　em　off。〃
　　I　could　see　other　stuff　scattered　amid　the　thickening　greenery　back　down　the　hall：　shredded　bits　of　clothing；　a　few　pieces　of　what　looked　like　a　pamphlet　of　some　kind；　paper　money；　coins。
　　〃Fingerprints　aren't　a　problem　because　nobody's　ever　going　to　see　any　of　the　old　coot's　stuff；〃　Roger　said。　He　took　the　pick　from　Bill；　briefly　examined　the　printing；　then　walked　a　little　way　down　the　corridor。　The　drifts　and　clumps　of　ivy　drew　back　for　him；　just　as　I　had　known　they　would。　Roger　tossed　the　pick。　A　leaf　folded　over　it　and　it　was　gone。　Just　like　that。
　　Then；　in　my　head；　I　heard　Roger's　voice。　Zenith！　As　if　calling　a　dog。　Eat　this　crap　up！　Make　it　gone！
　　And　for　the　first　time　I　heard　it　speak　a　coherent　reply。　There　isn't　anything　I　can　do　about　the　coins。　Or　these　damn　things。　Halfway　up　the　wall；　just　beyond　Herb's　office　door；　a　shiny　green　leaf　almost　the　size　of　a　dinner　plate　unrolled。　Something　bright　dropped　to　the　carpet　with　a　clink。　I　walked　down　and　picked　up　Iron…Guts's　Army　ID　tags　on　a　silver　beaded　chain。　Feeling　very　weird　about　it…you　must　believe　me　when　I　say　words　cannot　begin　to　tell…I　slipped　them　into　my　pants　pocket。　Meanwhile；　Bill　and　Herb　were　picking　up　the　General's　silver　change。　As　this　went　on；　there　was　a　low　rustling　sound。　The　bits　of　clothing　and　shreds　of　paper　were　disappearing　back　into　the　jungle　where　the　front　corridor　bees　the　back　one。
　　〃And　Detweiller？〃　Bill　asked　in　a　hushed　voice。　〃Same　deal？〃
　　Roger's　eyes　met　mine　for　a　moment；　questioning。　Then　we　shook　our　heads；　both　at　the　same　time。
　　〃Why　not？〃　Herb　asked。
　　〃Too　dangerous；〃　I　said。
　　We　waited　for　Zenith　to　speak　again；　to　contradict　the　idea；　perhaps；　but　there　was　nothing。
　　〃Then　what？〃　Herb　asked　plaintively。　〃What　are　we　supposed　to　do　with　him？　What　are　we　supposed　to　do　with　his　goddam　briefcase？　For　that　matter；　what　are　we　supposed　to　do　with　any　little　pieces　of　the　General　we　e　across　in　the　back　corridor？　His　belt…buckle；　for　instance？〃
　　Before　any　of　us　could　answer；　a　man's　voice　called　from　the　reception　area。　〃Hello？　Is　anyone　here？〃
　　We　looked　at　each　other　in　utter　surprise；　in　that　first　moment　too　shocked　for　panic。
　　
　　From　the　journals　of　Riddley　Walker
　　
　　4/5/81
　　
　　When　I　got　to　the　train　station；　I　stuck　my　suitcase　into　the　first　unoccupied　coin…op　locker　I　came　to；　snatched　the　key　with　the　big　orange　head　out　of　the　lock；　and　dropped　it　into　my　pocket；　where　it　will　undoubtedly　stay　at　least　until　tomorrow。　The　worst　is　over…for　now…but　I　can't　even　think　about　getting　my　luggage；　or　doing　any　sort　of　ordinary　chore。　Not　yet。　I'm　too　exhausted。　Physically；　yes；　but　I'll　tell　you　what's　worse：　I'm　morally　exhausted。　I　think　that　is　a　result　of　returning　to　Zenith　House　so　soon　upon　the　heels　of　my　nightmare　falling…out　with　my　sisters　and　brother