dk.coldfire-第53章

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h。　Unable　to　remember　if　any　rubble　was　stacked　along　the　wall　that　might　set　up　a　clatter　when　she　knocked　it　over；　she　moved　slowly　along　that　limestone　curve；　her　back　to　it；　edging　sideways　again。　
　The　antechamber　archway　was　somewhere　ahead　on　her　right。　When　she　looked　to　her　left；　she　could　barely　see　the　foot　of　the　stairs　down　which　she　had　just　descended。　
　Feeling　the　wall　ahead　of　her　with　her　right　hand；　she　discovered　the　corner。　She　stepped　through　the　archway　and　into　the　antechamber。　
　Though　that　space　had　been　blind…dark　last　night；　it　was　dimly　lit　now　by　the　pale　post…dawn　glow　that　lay　beyond　the　open　outside　door。　
　The　morning　was　overcast。　Pleasantly　cool　for　August。　
　The　pond　was　still　and　gray。　
　Morning　insects　issued　a　thin；　almost　inaudible　background　buzz；　like　faint　static　on　a　radio　with　the　volume　turned　nearly　off　She　hurried　to　the　Ford　and　stealthily　opened　the　door。　
　Another　panic　hit　her　as　she　thought　of　the　keys。　Then　she　felt　them　in　a　pocket　of　her　jeans；　where　she　had　slipped　them　last　night　after　using　the　bathroom　at　the　farmhouse。　One　key　for　the　farmhouse；　one　key　for　his　house　in　Laguna　Niguel；　two　keys　for　the　car；　all　on　a　simple　brass…bead　chain。　
　She　threw　the　purse　and　tablet　into　the　back　seat　and　got　behind　the　wheel；　but　didn't　close　the　door　for　fear　the　sound　would　wake　him。　
　She　was　not　home　free　yet。　He　might　burst　out　of　the　windmill；　The　Enemy　in　charge　of　him；　leap　across　the　short　expanse　of　gravel；　and　drag　her　from　the　car。　
　Her　hands　shook　as　she　fumbled　with　the　keys。　She　had　trouble　inserting　the　right　one　in　the　ignition。　But　then　she　got　it　in；　twisted　it；　put　her　foot　on　the　accelerator；　and　almost　sobbed　with　relief　when　the　engine　turned　over　with　a　roar。　
　She　yanked　the　door　shut；　threw　the　Ford　in　reverse；　and　backed　along　the　gravel　path　that　circled　the　pond。　The　wheels　spun　up　a　hail　of　gravel；　which　rattled　against　the　back　of　the　car　as　she　reversed　into　it。　
　When　she　reached　the　area　between　the　barn　and　the　house；　where　she　could　turn　around　and　head　out　of　the　driveway　front…first；　she　jammed　on　the　brakes　instead。　She　stared　at　the　windmill；　which　was　now　on　the　far　side　of　the　water。　
　She　had　nowhere　to　run。　Wherever　she　went；　he　would　find　her。　He　could　see　the　future；　at　least　to　some　extent；　if　not　as　vividly　or　in　as　much　detail　as　The　Friend　had　claimed。　He　could　transform　drywall　into　a　monstrous　living　organism；　change　limestone　into　a　transparent　substance　filled　with　whirling　light；　project　a　beast　of　hideous　design　into　her　dreams　and　into　the　doorway　of　her　motel；　track　her；　find　her；　trap　her。　
　He　had　drawn　her　into　his　mad　fantasy　and　most　likely　still　wanted　her　to　play　out　her　role　in　it。　The　Friend　in　Jim…and　Jim　himself　might　let　her　go。　But　the　third　personality…the　murderous　part　of　him；　The　Enemy…would　want　her　blood。　Maybe　she　would　be　fortunate；　and　maybe　the　two　benign　thirds　of　him　would　prevent　the　other　third　from　taking　control　and　ing　after　her。　But　she　doubted　it。　Besides；　she　could　not　spend　the　rest　of　her　life　waiting　for　a　wall　to　bulge　outward　unexpectedly；　form　into　a　mouth；　and　bite　her　hand　off　And　there　was　one　other　problem。　
　She　could　not　abandon　him。　He　needed　her。　
　Part　THREE　From　childhood　s　hour　I　have　not　been　As　others　were　I　have　not　seen　As　others　saw。　
　Alone；　F；Edgar　ALLAN　POE　Vzbratzons　in　a　wzre。　
　Ice　crystals　in　a　beatzng　heart。　
　Cold　fire。　
　A　mind　s　frzgzdzty：　frozen　steel；　dark　rage　morbzdity。　
　Cold　fire　Defense　against　a　cruel　life　death　and　strzfe：　Cold　fire。　
　…that。　HOOK　OF　counted　SOHROWS　
　THE　REST　OF　AUGUST　29
　
　Holly　sat　in　the　Ford；　staring　at　the　old　windmill；　scared　and　exhilarated。　
　The　exhilaration　surprised　her。　Maybe　she　felt　upbeat　because　for　the　first　time　in　her　life　she　had　found　something　to　which　she　was　willing　to　mit　herself　Not　a　casual　mitment；　either。　Not　an　until…I…get…bored　mitment。　She　was　willing　to　put　her　life　on　the　line　for　this；　for　Jim　and　what　he　could　bee　if　he　could　be　healed；　for　what　they　could　bee　together。　
　Even　if　he　had　told　her　she　could　go；　and　even　if　she　had　felt　that　his　release　of　her　was　sincere；　she　would　not　have　abandoned　him。　
　He　was　her　salvation。　And　she　was　his。　
　The　mill　stood　sentinel　against　the　ashen　sky。　Jim　had　not　appeared　at　the　door。　Perhaps　he　had　not　yet　awakened。　
　There　were　still　many　mysteries　within　this　mystery；　but　so　much　was　painfully　obvious　now。　He　sometimes　failed　to　save　people…like　Susie　Jawolski's　father…because　he　was　not　really　operating　on　behalf　of　an　infallible　god　or　a　prescient　alien；　he　was　acting　on　his　own　phenomenal　but　imperfect　visions；　he　was　just　a　man；　special　but　only　a　man；　and　even　the　best　of　men　had　limits。　He　evidently　felt　that　he　had　failed　his　parents　somehow。　Their　deaths　weighed　heavily　on　his　conscience；　and　he　was　trying　to　redeem　himself　by　saving　the　lives　of　others：　HE　LOOKED　LIKE　MY　FATHER；　WHOM　I　FAILED　TO　SAVE。　
　It　was　now　obvious；　as　well；　why　The　Enemy　broke　through　only　when　Jim　was　asleep：　he　was　terrified　of　that　dark　aspect　of　himself；　that　embodiment　of　his　rage；　and　he　strenuously　repressed　it　when　he　was　awake。　At　his　place　in　Laguna；　The　Enemy　had　materialized　in　the　bedroom　while　Jim　was　sleeping　and　actually　had　been　sustained　for　a　while　after　Jim　had　awakened；　but　when　it　had　crashed　through　the　bathroom　ceiling；　it　had　simply　evaporated　like　the　lingering　dream　it　was。　Dreams　are　doorways；　The　Friend　had　warned；　which　had　been　a　warning　from　Jim　himself　Dreams　were　doorways；　yes；　but　not　for　evil；　mind…invading　alien　monsters　；　dreams　were　doorways　to　the　subconscious；　and　what　came　out　of　them　was　all　too　human。　
　She　had　other　pieces　of　the　puzzle；　too。　She　just　didn't　know　how　they　fit　together。　
　Holly　was　angry　with　herself　for　not　having　asked　the　correct　questions　on　Monday；　when　Jim　had　finally　opened　his　patio　door　and　let　her　into　his　life。　He'd　insisted　that　he　was　only　an　instrument；　that　he　had　no　powers　of　his　own。　She'd　bought　it　too　quickly。　She　should　have　probed　harder；　asked　tougher　questions。　She　was　as　guilty　of　amateurish　interviewing　technique　as　Jim　had　been　when　The　Friend　had　first　appeared　to　them。　
　She　had　been　annoyed　by　his　willingness　to　accept　what　The　Friend　said　at　face　value。　Now　she　understood　that　he　had　created　The　Friend　for　the　same　reason　that　other　victims　of　multiple…personality　syndrome　generated　splinter　personalities：　to　cope　in　a　world　that　confused　and　frightened　them。　Alone　and　afraid　at　the　age　of　ten；　he　had　taken　refuge　in　fantasy。　
　He　created　The　Friend；　a　magical　being；　as　a　source　of　solace　and　hope。　
　When　Holly　pressed　The　Friend　to　explain　itself　logically；　Jim　resisted　her　because　her　probing　threatened　a　fantasy　which　he　desperately　needed　to　sustain　himself　For　similar　reasons　of　her　own；　she　had　not　questioned　him　as　toughly　as　she　should　have　on　Monday　evening。　He　was　her　sustaining　dream。　He　had　e　into　her　life　like　a　heroic　figure　in　a　dream；　saving　Billy　Jenkins　with　dreamlike　grace　and　panache。　Until　she　had　seen　him；　she　had　not　realized　how　much　she　needed　someone　like　him。　And　instead　of　probing　deeply　at　him　as　any　good　reporter　would　have　done；　she　had　let　him　be　what　he　wanted　to　pretend　to　be；　for　she　had　been　reluctant　to　lose　him。　
　Now　their　only　hope　was　to　press　hard　for　the　whole　truth。　He　could　not　be　healed　until　they　understood　why　this　particular　and　bizarre　fantasy　of　his　had　evolved　and　how　in　the　name　of　God　he　had　developed　the　superhuman　powers　to　support　it。　
　She　sat　with　her　hands　on　the　steering　wheel；　prepared　to　act　but　with　no　idea　what　to　do。　There　seemed　to　be　no　one　to　whom　she　could　turn　for　help。　She　needed　answers　that　were　to　be　found　only　in　the　past　or　in　Jim's　subconscious　mind；　two　terrains　that　at　the　moment　were　equally　inaccessible。　
　Then；　hit　by　a　thunderbolt　of　insight；　she　realized　Jim　already　had　given　her　a　set　of　keys　to　unlock　his　remaining　mysteries。　When　they　had　driven　into　New　Svenborg；　he　had　taken　her　on　a　tour　of　the　town　which；　at　the　time；　seemed　like　a　tactic　to　delay　their　arrival　at　the　farm。　But　she　realized　now　that　the　tour　had　contained　the　most　important　revelations　he　had　made　to　her。　Each　nostalgic　landmark　was　a　key　to　the　past　and　to　the　remaining　mysteries　that；　once　unlocked；　would　make　it　possible　for　her　to　help　him。　
　He　wanted　help。　A　part　of　him　understood　that　he　was　sick；　trapped　in　a　schizophrenic　fantasy；　and　he　wanted　out。　She　just　hoped　that　he　would　suppress　The　Enemy　until　they　had　time　to　learn　what　they　needed　to　know。　That　darkest　splinter　of　his　mind　did　not　want　her　to　succeed；　her　success　would　be　its　death；　and　to　save　itself；　it　would　destroy　her　if　it　got　the　chance。　
　If　she　and　Jim　were　to　have　a　life　together；　or　any　life　at　all；　their　future　lay　in　the　past；　and　the　past　lay　in　New　Svenborg。　
　She　swung　the　wheel　hard　right；　began　to　turn　around　to　head　out　of　the　driveway　to　the　county　road…then　stopped。　She　looked　at　the　windmill　again。　
　Jim　had　to　be　part　of　his　own　cure。　She　could　not　track　down　the　truth　and　make　him　believe　it。　He　had　to　see　it　himself。　
　She　loved　him。　
　She　was　afraid　of　him。　
　She　couldn't　do　anything　about　the　love；　that　was　just　part　of　her　now；　like　blood　or　bone　or　sinew。　But　almost　any　fear　could　be　overe　by　confronting　the　cause　of　it。　
　Wondering　at　her　own　courage；　she　drove　back　along　the　graveled　path　to　the　foot　of　the　windmill。　She　pumped　three　long　blasts　from　the　horn；　then　three　more；　waited；a　few　seconds　and　hit　it　again；　again。　
　Jim　appeared　in　the　doorway。　He　came　out　into　the　gray　morning　light；　squinting　at　her。　
　Holly　opened　her　door　and　stepped　out　of　the　car。　〃You　awake？〃　〃Do　I　look　like　I'm　sleepwalking？〃　he　asked　as　he　approached　her。　
　〃What's　going　on？〃　〃I　want　to　be　damn　sure　you're　awake；　fully　awake。〃　
　He　stopped　a　few　feet　away。　〃Why　don't　we　open　the　hood；　I'll　put　my　head　under　it；　then　you　can　let　out　maybe　a　two…minute　blast；　just　to　be　sure。　Holly；　what's　going　on？〃　〃We　have　to　talk。　Get　in。〃　
　Frowning；　he　went　around　to　the　passenger's　side　and　got　into　the　Ford　with　her。　
　When　he　settled　into　the　passenger's　seat；　he　said；　〃This　isn't　going　to　be　pleasant；　is　it？〃　〃No。　Not　especially。〃　
　In　front　of　them；　the　sails　of　the　windmill　stuttered。　They　began　to　turn　slowly；　with　much　clattering　and　creaking；　shedding　chunks　and　splinters　of　rotten　vanes。　
　〃Stop　it；〃　she　said　to　Jim；　afraid　that　the　turning　sails　were　only　a　prelude　to　a　manifestation　of　The　Enemy。　〃I　know　you　don't　want　to　hear　what　I　have　to　say；　but　don't　try　to　distract　me；　don't　try　to　stop　me。〃　
　He　did　not　respond。　He　stared　with　fascination　at　the　mill；　as　if　he　had　not　heard　her。　
　The　speed　of　the　sails　increased。　
　〃Jim；　damn　it！〃　At　last　he　looked　at　her；　genuinely　baffled　by　the　anger　underlying　her　fear。　〃What？〃　Around；　around；　around…around…around；　aroundaroundaround。　It　turned　like　a　haunted　Ferris　wheel　in　a　carnival　of　the　damned。　
　〃Shit！〃　she　said；　her　fear　accelerating　with　the　pace　of　the　windmill　sails。　
　She　put　the　car　in　reverse；　looked　over　her　shoulder；　and　backed　at　high　speed　around　the　pond。　
　〃Where　are　we