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！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
。 Marbles were round and so was the Talisman。
Light broke in his reeling mind。
Holding Richard； Jack slowly rolled the Talisman down the length of his body。 After he reached Richard's chest； Richard stopped struggling。 Jack thought he had probably fainted； but a quick glance showed him this wasn't so。 Richard was staring at him with dawning wonder 。 。 。
。 。 。 and the pimples on his face were gone！ The hard red bumps were fading！
'Richard！' he yelled； laughing like a crazy loon。 'Hey； Richard； look at this！ Bwana make juju！'
He rolled the Talisman slowly down over Richard's belly； using his palm。 The Talisman glowed brightly； singing a clear； wordless harmonic of health and healing。 Down over Richard's crotch。 Jack moved Richard's thin legs together and rolled it down the groove between them to Richard's ankles。 The Talisman glowed bright blue 。 。 。 deep red 。 。 。 yellow 。 。 。 the green of June meadow…grass。
Then it was white again。
'Jack；' Richard whispered。 'Is that what we came for？'
'Yes。'
'It's beautiful；' Richard said。 He hesitated。 'May I hold it？'
Jack felt a sudden twist of Scrooge…miserliness。 He snatched the Talisman close to himself for a moment。 No！ You might break it！ Besides； it's mine！ I crossed the country for it！ I fought the knights for it！ You can't have it！ Mine！ Mine！ Mi…
In his hands the Talisman suddenly radiated a terrible chill； and for a moment…a moment more frightening to Jack than all the earthquakes in all the worlds that ever had been or ever would be…it turned a Gothic black。 Its white light was extinguished。 In its rich； thundery； thanatropic interior he saw the black hotel。 On turrets and gambrels and gables； on the roofs of cupolas which bulged like warts stuffed with thick malignancies； the cabalistic symbols turned…wolf and crow and twisted genital star。
Would you be the new Agincourt； then？ the Talisman whispered。 Even a boy can be a hotel 。 。 。 if he would be。
His mother's voice； clear in his head： If you don't want to share it； Jack…O； if you can't bring yourself to risk it for your friend； then you might as well stay where you are。 If you can't bring yourself to share the prize…risk the prize…don't even bother to e home。 Kids hear that shit all their lives； but when it es time to put up or shut up； it's never quite the same； is it？ If you can't share it； let me die； chum； because I don't want to live at that price。
The weight of the Talisman suddenly seemed immense； the weight of dead bodies。 Yet somehow Jack lifted it； and put it in Richard's hands。 His hands were white and skeletal 。 。 。 but Richard held it easily； and Jack realized that sensation of weight had been only his own imagination； his own twisted and sickly wanting。 As the Talisman flashed into glorious white light again； Jack felt his own interior darkness pass from him。 It occurred to him dimly that you could only express your ownership of a thing in terms of how freely you could give it up 。 。 。 and then that thought passed。
Richard smiled； and the smile made his face beautiful。 Jack had seen Richard smile many times； but there was a peace in this smile he had never seen before； it was a peace which passed his understanding。 In the Talisman's white； healing light； he saw that Richard's face； although still ravaged and haggard and sickly； was healing。 He hugged the Talisman against his chest as if it were a baby； and smiled at Jack with shining eyes。
'If this is the Seabrook Island Express；' he said； 'I may just buy a season ticket。 If we ever get out of this。'
'You feel better？'
Richard's smile shone like the Talisman's light。 'Worlds better；' he said。 'Now help me up； Jack。'
Jack moved to take his shoulder。 Richard held out the Talisman。
'Better take this first；' he said。 'I'm still weak； and it wants to go back with you。 I feel that。'
Jack took it and helped Richard up。 Richard put an arm around Jack's neck。
'You ready 。 。 。 chum？'
'Yeah；' Richard said。 'Ready。 But I somehow think the seagoing route's out； Jack。 I think I heard the deck out there collapse during the Big Rumble。'
'We're going out the front door；' Jack said。 'Even if God put down a gangway over the ocean from the windows back there to the beach； I'd still go out the front door。 We ain't ditching this place； Richie。 We're going out like paying guests。 I feel like I've paid plenty。 What do you think？'
Richard held out one thin hand； palm…up。 Healing red blemishes still glared on it。
'I think we ought to go for it；' he said。 'Gimme some skin； Jacky。'
Jack slapped his palm down on Richard's； and then the two of them started back toward the hallway； Richard with one arm around Jack's neck。
Halfway down the hall； Richard stared at the litter of dead metal。 'What in heck？'
'Coffee cans；' Jack said； and smiled。 'Maxwell House。'
'Jack； what in the world are you t…'
'Never mind； Richard；' Jack said。 He was grinning； and he still felt good； but wires of tension were working into his body again just the same。 The earthquake was over 。 。 。 but it wasn't over。 Morgan would be waiting for them now。 And Gardener。
Never mind。 Let it e down the way it will。
They reached the lobby and Richard looked around wonderingly at the stairs； the broken registration desk； the tumbled trophies and flagstands。 The stuffed head of a black bear had its nose in one of the pigeonholes of the mail depository； as if smelling something good…honey； perhaps。
'Wow；' Richard said。 'Whole place just about fell down。'
Jack got Richard over to the double doors； and observed Richard's almost greedy appreciation of that little spray of sunlight。
'Are you really ready for this； Richard？'
'Yes。'
'Your father's out there。'
'No； he's not。 He's dead。 All that's out there is his 。 。 。 what do you call it？ His Twinner。'
'Oh。'
Richard nodded。 In spite of the Talisman's proximity； he was beginning to look exhausted again。 'Yes。'
'There's apt to be a hell of a fight。'
'Well； I'll do what I can。'
'I love you； Richard。'
Richard smiled wanly。 'I love you； too； Jack。 Now let's go for it before I lose my nerve。'
9
Sloat really believed he had everything under control…the situation； of course； but more important； himself。 He went right on believing this until he saw his son； obviously weak； obviously sick； but still very much alive； e out of the black hotel with his arm around Jack Sawyer's neck and his head leaning against Jack's shoulder。
Sloat had also believed he finally had his feelings about Phil Sawyer's brat under control…it was his previous rage that had caused him to miss Jack； first at the Queen's pavillion； then in the midwest。 Christ； he had crossed Ohio unscathed…and Ohio was only an eyeblink from Orris； that other Morgan's stronghold。 But his fury had led to uncontrolled behavior； and so the boy had slipped through。 He had suppressed his rage…but now it flared up with wicked and unbridled freedom。 It was as if someone had hosed kerosene on a well…banked fire。
His son； still alive。 And his beloved son； to whom he had meant to turn over the kingship of worlds and universes； was leaning on Sawyer for support。
Nor was that all。 Glimmering and flashing in Sawyer's hands like a star which had fallen to earth was the Talisman。 Even from here Sloat could feel it…it was as if the planet's gravitational field had suddenly gotten stronger； pulling him down； making his heart labor； as if time were speeding up； drying out his flesh； dimming his eyes。
'It hurts！' Gardener wailed beside him。
Most of the Wolfs who had stood up to the quake and rallied to Morgan were now reeling away； hands before their faces。 A couple of them were vomiting helplessly。
Morgan felt a moment of swooning fear 。 。 。 and then his rage； his excitement； and the lunacy that had been feeding on his increasingly grandiose dreams of overlordship…these things burst apart the webbing of his self…control。
He raised his thumbs to his ears and slammed them deep inside； so deep it hurt。 Then he stuck out his tongue and waggled his fingers at Mr。 Jack Dirty Motherfuck and Soon…to…be…Dead Sawyer。 A moment later his upper teeth descended like a drop…gate and seered the tip of his wagging tongue。 Sloat didn't even notice it。 He seized Gardener by the flak…vest。
Gardener's face was moony with fear。 'They're out； he's got IT； Morgan 。 。 。 my Lord 。 。 。 we ought to run； we must run…'
'SHOOT HIM！' Morgan screamed into Gardener's face。 Blood from his severed tongue flew in a fine spray。 'SHOOT HIM； YOU ETHIOPIAN JUG…FUCKER； HE KILLED YOUR BOY！ SHOOT HIM AND SHOOT THE FUCKING TALISMAN！ SHOOT RIGHT THROUGH HIS ARMS AND BREAK IT！'
Sloat now began to dance slowly up and down before Gardener； his face working horribly； his thumbs back in his ears； his fingers waggling beside his head； his amputated tongue popping in and out of his mouth like one of those New Year's Eve party favors that unroll with a tooting sound。 He looked like a murderous child…hilarious； and at the same time awful。
'HE KILLED YOUR SON！ AVENGE YOUR SON！ SHOOT HIM！ SHOOT IT！ YOU SHOT HIS FATHER； NOW SHOOT HIM！'