dk.coldfire-第52章

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　As　she　had　looked　around　the　room；　studying　the　walls；　she　had　noticed　the　yellow　tablet　lying　on　the　floor　under　the　far　window。　She　had　pitched　it　aside　last　evening　when　The　Friend　had　resisted　vocalizing　its　answers　and　had　tried；　instead；　to　present　her　with　responses　to　all　her　written　questions　at　once；　before　she　was　able　to　read　them　aloud。　
　She'd　never　had　a　chance　to　ask　it　all　of　the　questions　on　her　list；　and　now　she　wondered　what　might　be　on　that　answer…tablet。　
　She　eased　off　her　bedding　as　quietly　as　possible；　rose；　and　walked　carefully　across　the　room。　She　tested　the　floorboards　as　she　went　to　make　sure　they　weren't　going　to　squeak　when　she　put　her　full　weight　on　them。　
　As　she　stooped　to　pick　up　the　tablet；　she　heard　a　sound　that　froze　her。　
　Like　a　heartbeat　with　an　extra　thump　in　it。　
　She　looked　around　at　the　walls；　up　at　the　dome。　The　light　from　the　highburning　lantern　and　the　windows　was　sufficient　to　be　certain　that　the　limestone　was　only　limestone；　the　wood　only　wood。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　It　was　faint；　as　if　someone　was　tapping　the　rhythm　out　on　a　drum　far　away；　outside　the　mill；　somewhere　up　in　the　dry　brown　hills。　
　But　she　knew　what　it　was。　No　drum。　It　was　the　tripartite　beat　that　always　preceded　the　materialization　of　The　Enemy。　Just　as　the　bells　had；　until　its　final　visit；　preceded　the　arrival　of　The　Friend。　
　As　she　listened；　it　faded　away。　
　She　strained　to　hear　it。　
　Gone。　
　Relieved　but　still　trembling；　she　picked　up　the　tablet。　The　pages　were　rumpled；　and　they　made　some　noise　falling　into　place。　
　Jim's　steady　breathing　continued　to　echo　softly　around　the　room；　with　no　change　of　rhythm　or　pitch。　
　Holly　read　the　answers　on　the　first　page；　then　the　second。　She　saw　that　they　were　the　same　responses　The　Friend　had　vocalized…although　without　the　spur…of　the…moment　questions　that　she　had　not　written　down　on　the　question…tablet。　She　skimmed　down　the　third　and　fourth　pages；　on　which　it　had　listed　the　people　Jim　had　saved…Carmen　Diaz；　Amanda　Cutter；　Steven　Aimes；　Laura　Lenaskian…explaining　what　great　things　each　of　them　was　destined　to　achieve。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　She　snapped　her　head　up。　
　The　sound　was　still　distant；　no　louder　than　before。　
　Jim　groaned　in　his　sleep。　
　Holly　took　a　step　away　from　the　window；　intending　to　wake　him；　but　the　dreaded　sound　faded　away　again。　Evidently　The　Enemy　was　in　the　neighborhood；　but　it　had　not　found　a　doorway　in　Jim's　dream。　He　had　to　get　his　sleep；　he　couldn't　function　without　it。　She　decided　to　let　him　alone。　
　Easing　back　to　the　window　again；　Holly　held　the　answer…tablet　up　to　the　light。　She　turned　to　the　fifth　page…and　felt　the　flesh　on　the　nape　of　her　neck　go　as　cold　and　nubbly　as　frozen　turkey　skin。　
　Peeling　the　pages　back　with　great　delicacy；　so　as　not　to　rustle　them　more　than　absolutely　necessary；　she　checked　the　sixth　page；　the　seventh；　the　eighth。　They　were　all　the　same。　Messages　were　printed　on　them　in　the　wavery　hand　that　The　Friend　had　used　when　pulling　its　little　words…risingas…if…through…water　trick。　But　they　were　not　answers　to　her　questions。　
　They　were　two　alternating　statements；　unpunctuated；　each　repeated　three　times　per　page：　HE　LOVES　YOU　HOLLY　HE　WILL　KILL　YOU　HOLLY　HE　LOVES　YOU　HOLLY　HE　WILL　KILL　YOU　HOLLY　HE　LOVES　YOU　HOLLY　HE　WILL　KILL　YOU　HOLLY　Staring　at　those　obsessively　repeated　statements；　she　knew　that　〃he〃　could　be　no　one　but　Jim。　She　focused　only　on　the　five　hateful　words；　trying　to　understand。　
　And　suddenly　she　thought　that　she　did。　The　Friend　was　warning　her　that　in　its　madness　it　would　act　against　her；　perhaps　because　it　hated　her　for　bringing　Jim　to　the　mill；　for　making　him　seek　answers；　and　for　being　a　distraction　from　his　mission。　If　The　Friend；　which　was　the　sane　half　of　the　alien　consciousness；　could　reach　into　Jim's　mind　and　pel　him　to　undertake　life…saving　missions；　was　it　possible　that　The　Enemy；　the　dark　half；　could　reach　into　his　mind　and　pel　him　to　kill？　Instead　of　the　insane　personality　materializing　in　monstrous　form　as　it　had　done　for　an　instant　at　the　motel　Friday　night　and　as　it　attempted　to　do　in　Jim's　bedroom　yesterday；　might　it　choose　to　use　Jim　against　her；　take　mand　of　him　to　a　greater　extent　than　The　Friend　had　ever　done；　and　turn　him　into　a　killing　machine？　That　might　perversely　delight　the　mad…child　aspect　of　the　entity。　
　She　shook　herself　as　if　casting　off　a　pestering　wasp。　
　No。　It　was　impossible。　All　right；　Jim　could　kill　in　the　defense　of　innocent　people。　But　he　was　incapable　of　killing　someone　innocent。　No　alien　consciousness；　no　matter　how　powerful；　could　override　his　true　nature。　In　his　heart　he　was　good　and　kind　and　caring。　
　His　love　for　her　could　not　be　subverted　by　this　alien　force；　no　matter　how　strong　it　was。　
　But　how　did　she　know　that？　She　was　engaging　in　wishful　thinking。　
　For　all　she　knew；　The　Enemy's　powers　of　mental　control　were　so　awesome　that　it　could　reach　into　her　brain　right　now　and　tell　her　to　drown　herself　in　the　pond；　and　she　would　do　as　told。　
　She　remembered　Norman　Rink。　The　Atlanta　convenience　store。　Jim　had　pumped　eight　rounds　from　a　shotgun　into　the　guy；　blasting　at　him　again　and　again；　long　after　he　was　dead。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　Still　far　away。　
　Jim　groaned　softly。　
　She　moved　away　from　the　window　again；　intent　on　waking　him；　and　almost　called　out　his　name；　before　she　realized　that　The　Enemy　might　be　in　him　already。　Dreams　are　doorways。　She　didn't　have　a　clue　as　to　what　The　Friend　meant　by　that；　or　if　it　was　anything　more　than　stage　dressing　like　the　bells。　But　maybe　what　it　had　meant　was　that　The　Enemy　could　enter　the　dreamer's　dream　and　thus　the　dreamer's　mind。　Maybe　this　time　The　Enemy　did　not　intend　to　materialize　from　the　wall　but　from　Jim；　in　the　person　of　Jim；　in　total　control　of　Jim；　just　for　a　murderous　little　lark。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　！ub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　A　little　louder；　a　little　closer？　Holly　felt　that　she　was　losing　her　mind。　Paranoid；　schizoid；　flat…out　crazy。　No　better　than　The　Friend　and　his　other　half　She　was　frantically　trying　to　understand　a　totally　alien　consciousness；　and　the　more　she　pondered　the　possibilities；　the　stranger　and　more　varied　the　possibilities　became。　In　an　infinite　universe；　anything　can　happen；　any　nightmare　can　be　made　flesh。　In　an　infinite　universe；　life　was　therefore　essentially　the　same　as　a　dream。　Contemplation　of　that　under　the　stress　of　a　life…or…death　situation；　was　guaranteed　to　drive　you　bugshit。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　She　could　not　move。　
　She　could　only　wait。　
　The　tripartite　beat　faded　again。　
　Letting　her　breath　out　in　a　rush；　she　backed　up　against　the　wall　beside　the　window；　less　afraid　of　the　limestone　now　than　she　was　of　Jim　Ironheart。　She　wondered　if　it　was　all　right　to　wake　him　when　the　threenote　heartbeat　was　not　audible。　Maybe　The　Enemy　was　only　in　his　dream　…and　therefore　in　him…when　that　triple　thud　could　be　heard。　
　Afraid　to　act　and　afraid　not　to　act；　she　glanced　down　at　the　tablet　in　her　hand。　Some　of　the　pages　had　fallen　shut；　and　she　was　no　longer　looking　at　the　HE　LOVES　YOU　HOLLY/HE　WILL　KILL　YOU　HOLLY　litany。　
　Before　her　eyes；　instead；　was　the　list　of　people　who　had　been　saved　by　Jim；　along　with　The　Friend's　grandiose　explanations　of　their　importance。　
　She　saw　〃Steven　Aimes〃　and　realized　at　once　that　he　was　the　only　one　on　the　list　whose　fate　The　Friend　had　not　vocalized　during　one　or　another　of　their　conversations　last　night。　She　remembered　him　because　he　was　the　only　older　person　on　the　list；　fifty…seven。　She　read　the　words　under　his　name；　and　the　chill　that　had　touched　her　nape　earlier　was　nothing　pared　to　the　spike　of　ice　that　drove　through　it　now　and　pierced　her　spine。　
　Steven　Aimes　had　not　been　saved　because　he　would　father　a　child　who　would　be　a　great　diplomat　or　a　great　artist　or　a　great　healer。　He　had　not　been　saved　because　he　would　make　an　enduring　contribution　to　the　welfare　of　mankind。　The　reason　for　his　salvation　was　expressed　in　just　eleven　words；　the　most　horrifying　eleven　words　that　Holly　had　ever　read　or　hoped　to　read：　BECAUSE　HE　LOOKS　LIKE　MY　FATHER　WHOM　I　FAILED　TO　SAVE。　
　Not　〃like　Jim　's　father〃　which　The　Friend　would　have　said。　Not　〃whom　he　failed　to　save；〃　as　the　alien　would　surely　have　put　it　MY　FATHER。　I　FAILED。　MY。　I。　
　The　infinite　universe　just　kept　expanding；　and　now　an　entirely　new　possibility　presented　itself　to　her；　revealed　in　the　telling　words　about　Steven　Aimes。　No　starship　rested　under　the　pond。　No　alien　had　been　in　hiding　on　the　farm　for　ten　thousand　years；　ten　years；　or　ten　days。　The　Friend　and　The　Enemy　were　real　enough：　they　were　thirds；　not　halves；　of　the　same　personality；　three　in　one　entity；　an　entity　with　enormous　and　wonderful　and　terrifying　powers；　an　entity　both　godlike　and　yet　as　human　as　Holly　was。　Jim　Ironheart。　Who　had　been　shattered　by　tragedy　when　he　was　ten　years　old。　Who　had　painstakingly　put　himself　together　again　with　the　help　of　a　plex　fantasy　about　star…traveling　gods。　Who　was　as　insane　and　dangerous　as　he　was　sane　and　loving。　
　She　did　not　understand　where　he　had　gotten　the　power　that　he　so　obviously　possessed；　or　why　he　was　not　aware　whatsoever　that　the　power　was　within　him　rather　than　ing　from　some　imaginary　alien　presence。　
　The　realization　that　he　was　everything；　that　the　end　and　beginning　of　this　mystery　lay　solely　in　him　and　not　beneath　the　pond；　raised　more　questions　than　it　answered。　She　didn't　understand　how　such　a　thing　could　be　true；　but　she　knew　it　was；　at　last；　the　truth。　Later；　if　she　survived；　she　might　have　the　time　to　seek　a　better　understanding。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　Closer　but　not　close。　
　Holly　held　her　breath；　waiting　for　the　sound　to　get　louder。　
　Lub…dub…DUB；　lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　Jim　shifted　in　his　sleep。　He　snorted　softly　and　smacked　his　lips；　just　like　any　ordinary　dreamer。　
　But　he　was　three　personalities　in　one；　and　at　least　two　of　them　possessed　incredible　power；　and　at　least　one　of　them　was　deadly。　And　it　was　ing。　
　Lub…dub…DUB。　。　。　
　Holly　pressed　back　against　the　limestone。　Her　heart　was　pounding　so　hard　that　it　seemed　to　have　hammered　her　throat　half　shut；　she　had　trouble　swallowing。　
　The　tripartite　beat　faded。　
　Silence。　
　She　moved　along　the　curved　wall。　Easy　little　steps。　Sideways。　
　Toward　the　timbered；　ironbound　door。　She　eased　away　from　the　wall　just　far　enough　to　reach　out　and　snare　her　purse　by　its　straps。　
　The　closer　she　gut　to　the　head　of　the　stairs；　the　more　certain　she　became　that　the　door　was　going　to　slam　shut　before　she　reached　it；　that　Jim　was　going　to　sit　up　and　turn　to　her。　His　blue　eyes　would　not　be　beautiful　but　cold；　as　she　had　twice　glimpsed　them；　filled　with　rage　but　cold。　
　She　reached　the　door；　eased　through　it　backward　onto　the　first　step；　not　wanting　to　take　her　eyes　off　Jim。　But　if　she　tried　to　back　down　those　narrow　stairs　without　a　handrail；　she　would　fall；　break　an　arm　or　leg。　
　So　she　turned　away　from　the　high　room　and　hurried　toward　the　bottom　as　quickly　as　she　dared；　as　quietly　as　she　could。　
　Though　the　velvety…gray　morning　light　outlined　the　windows；　the　lower　chamber　was　treacherously　dark。　She　had　no　flashlight；　only　the　extra　edge　of　an　adrenaline　rush。　Unable　to　remember　if　any