dk.coldfire-第8章

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　With　no　time　for　caution；　his　anger　having　grown　greater　than　his　fear；　he　raced　after　the　killer；　through　the　door；　into　the　Road　king；　entering　aft　of　the　cockpit。　His　sun…dazzled　eyes　couldn't　handle　the　parative　gloom　of　the　motor　home's　interior；　but　he　was　able　to　see　the　psychotic　sonofabitch　heading　toward　the　rear　of　the　motor　home；　past　the　lounge　area　and　into　the　galley。　
　A　shadowy　figure　now；　with　just　a　dark　oval　for　a　face；　the　killer　turned　and　fired。　The　slug　tore　a　chunk　out　of　a　wall…hung　storage　cabinet　to　the　left　of　Jim；　showering　him　with　splinters　of　Formica　and　smoking　particle　board。　
　He　didn't　know　where　the　woman　and　child　were。　He　was　afraid　of　hitting　them。　A　shotgun　wasn't　a　precise　weapon。　
　The　killer　fired　again。　The　second　bullet　passed　so　close　to　Jim's　face　that　it　left　a　wake　of　stinging…hot　wind；　like　a　kiss　of　fire　burning　across　his　right　cheek。　
　He　pumped　out　one　round；　and　the　blast　shook　the　tinny　walls。　The　killer　screamed　and　was　flung　hard　against　the　kitchen　sink。　Jim　fired　again；　reflexively；　half　deafened　by　the　double　explosion。　The　guy　was　virtually　lifted　off　his　feet；　hurled　backward；　slammed　against　the　rear　wall；　beside　a　closed　door　that　separated　the　main　living　area　from　the　bedroom。　Then　he　dropped。　
　Grabbing　a　couple　of　shells　from　his　pants　pocket；　reloading　the　shotgun　magazine；　Jim　moved　deeper　into　the　Road　king；　past　a　tattered　and　sagging　sofa。　
　He　knew　the　man　had　to　be　dead；　but　he　could　not　see　well　enough　to　be　certain　of　anything。　Though　shafts　of　the　Mojave　sun　shoved　in　like　hot　branding　irons　through　the　windshield　and　the　open　doors；　the　heavily　draped　side　windows　insured　that　the　rear　of　the　Road　king　was　filled　with　shadows；　and　there　was　a　thin　acrid　haze　of　smoke　from　all　the　gunfire。　
　When　he　reached　the　end　of　the　narrow　chamber　and　looked　down；　he　had　no　doubt　that　the　man　crumpled　on　the　floor　was　dead。　Bloody　human　garbage。　Garbage　alive；　now　garbage　dead。　
　At　the　sight　of　the　torn　and　battered　corpse；　a　savage　elation　grip　him；　a　furious　righteousness　that　was　both　thrilling　and　frightening。　He　wanted　to　be　sickened　by　what　he　had　done；　even　if　the　dead　man　deserved　to　die；　but　although　the　carnage　nauseated　him；　he　was　not　merely　repulsed。　He　had　encountered　purest　evil　in　human　form。　
　Both　the　bastards　deserved　worse　than　he　had　been　able　to　do　to　them；　deserving　long　and　slow　deaths　with　great　suffering；　much　terror。　He　felt　like　a　avenging　angel；　e　to　judgment；　filled　with　a　holy　rage。　
　He　knew　he　was　teetering　on　the　edge　of　a　psychosis　of　his　own；　knew　that　only　the　insane　were　unreservedly　certain　of　the　virtue　of　even　their　most　outrageous　act　but　he　could　find　no　doubt　within　him。　In　fact　his　anger　swelled　as　if　he　were　God's　avatar　into　whom　flowed　a　direct　current　of　the　Almighty　apocalyptic　wrath。　
　He　turned　to　the　closed　door。　
　The　bedroom　lay　beyond。　
　The　mother　and　child　had　to　be　in　there。　
　Lisa。　。　。　Susie。　。　。　
　But　who　else？　Sociopathic　killers　usually　operated　alone；　but　sometimes　they　paired　as　these　two　had　done。　Larger　alliances；　however；　were　rare。　
　Charles　Manson　and　his　〃family；〃　of　course。　There　were　other　examples。　
　He　couldn't　rule　anything　out；　not　in　a　world　where　the　trendiest　professors　of　philosophy　taught　that　ethics　were　always　situational　and　that　everyone's　point　of　view　was　equally　right　and　valuable；　regardless　of　its　logic　or　hate　It　was　a　world　that　bred　monsters；　and　this　beast　might　be　hydra…headed　He　knew　caution　was　called　for；　but　the　exhilarating　righteous　wrath　that　filled　him　also　gave　him　a　sense　of　invulnerability。　He　stepped　to　the　bedroom　door；　kicked　it　open；　and　shouldered　through；　knowing　he　might　be　gut…shot；　not　giving　a　damn；　shotgun　in　front　of　him；　ready　to　kill　or　be　killed。　
　The　woman　and　child　were　alone。　On　the　filthy　bed。　Bound　at　wrists　and　ankles　with　sturdy　strapping　tape。　Tape　across　their　mouths。　
　The　woman；　Lisa；　was　about　thirty；　slim；　an　unusually　attractive　blond　But　the　daughter；　Susie；　was　remarkably　more　beautiful　than　her　mother　ethereally　beautiful：　about　ten　years　old；　with　luminous　green　eyes；　delicate　features；　and　skin　as　flawless　as　the　membranous　interior　surface　of　a　eggshell。　The　girl　seemed；　to　Jim；　to　be　an　embodiment　of　innocence　goodness；　and　purity…an　angel　cast　down　into　a　cesspool。　New　power　informed　his　rage　at　the　sight　of　her　bound　and　gagged　in　the　bedroom　squalor。　
　Tears　streamed　down　the　child's　face；　and　she　choked　on　muffled　sobs　of　terror　behind　the　tape　that　sealed　her　lips。　
　The　mother　was　not　crying；　though　grief　and　fear　haunted　her　eyes。　Her　sense　of　responsibility　to　her　daughter　and　a　visible　rage　not　unlike　Jim's…seemed　to　keep　her　from　falling　over　the　brink　of　hysteria。　
　He　realized　they　were　afraid　of　him。　As　far　as　they　knew；　he　was　in　league　with　the　men　who　had　abducted　them。　
　As　he　propped　the　shotgun　against　the　built…in　dresser；　he　said；　〃It's　all　right。　It's　over　now。　I　killed　them。　I　killed　them　both。〃　
　The　mother　stared　at　him　wide…eyed；　disbelieving。　
　He　didn't　blame　her　for　doubting　him。　His　voice　sounded　strange：　full　of　fury；　cracking　on　every　third　or　fourth　word；　tremulous；　going　from　a　whisper　to　a　hard　bark　to　a　whisper　again。　
　He　looked　around　for　something　with　which　to　cut　them　free。　A　roll　of　the　strapping　tape　and　a　pair　of　scissors　lay　on　the　dresser。　
　Grabbing　the　scissors；　he　noticed　X…rated　videotapes　also　stacked　on　there。　Suddenly　he　realized　that　the　walls　and　ceiling　of　the　small　room　were　papered　with　obscene　photographs　torn　from　the　pages　of　sex　magazines；　and　with　a　jolt　he　saw　it　was　filth　with　a　twisted　difference：　child　pornography。　There　were　grown　men　in　the　photos；　their　faces　always　concealed；　but　there　were　no　grown　women；　only　young　girls　and　boys；　most　of　them　as　young　as　Susie；　many　of　them　younger；　being　brutalized　in　every　way　imaginable。　
　The　men　he　had　killed　would　have　used　the　mother　only　briefly；　would　have　raped　and　tortured　and　broken　her　only　as　an　example　to　the　child。　
　Then　they　would　have　cut　her　throat　or　blown　her　brains　out　on　some　desolate　dirt　road　out　in　the　desert；　leaving　her　body　for　the　delectation　of　lizards　and　ants　and　vultures。　It　was　the　child　they　really　wanted；　and　for　whom　they　would　have　made　the　next　few　months　or　years　a　living　hell。　
　His　anger　metastasized　into　something　beyond　mere　rage；　far　beyond　wrath。　A　terrible　darkness　rose　inside　of　him　like　black　crude　oil　gushing　up　from　a　wellhead。　
　He　was　furious　that　the　child　had　seen　those　photographs；　had　been　forced　to　lie　in　those　stained　and　foul…smelling　bedclothes　with　unspeakable　obscenity　on　every　side　of　her。　He　had　the　crazy　urge　to　pick　up　the　shotgun　and　empty　a　few　more　rounds　into　each　of　the　dead　men。　
　They　had　not　touched　her。　Thank　God　for　that。　They　hadn't　had　time　to　touch　her。　
　But　the　room。　Oh；　Jesus；　she　had　suffered　an　assault　just　by　being　in　that　room。　
　He　was　shaking。　
　He　saw　that　the　mother　was　shaking；　too。　
　After　a　moment　he　realized　that　her　tremors　were　not　of　rage；　like　his　but　of　fear。　Fear　of　him。　She　was　terrified　of　him；　more　so　now　than　when　he　had　e　into　the　room。　
　He　was　glad　there　was　no　mirror。　He　would　not　have　wanted　to　see　his　own　face。　Right　now　there　must　be　some　kind　of　madness　in　it。　
　He　had　to　get　a　grip　on　himself　〃It's　all　right；〃　he　assured　her　again。　
　〃I　came　to　help　you。〃　
　Eager　to　free　them；　anxious　to　quiet　their　terror；　he　dropped　to　his　knees　beside　the　bed　and　cut　the　tape　that　was　wound　around　the　woman's　ankles；　tore　it　away。　He　snipped　the　tape　around　her　wrists；　as　well；　then　left　her　to　finish　freeing　herself　When　he　cut　the　bindings　from　Susie's　wrists；　she　hugged　herself　defensively。　When　he　freed　her　ankles；　she　kicked　at　him　and　squirmed　away　across　the　gray　and　mottled　sheets。　He　didn't　reach　for　her；　but　backed　instead。　
　Lisa　peeled　the　tape　off　her　lips　and　pulled　a　rag　out　of　her　mouth　choking　and　gagging。　She　spoke　in　a　raspy　voice　that　was　somehow　simultaneously　frantic　and　resigned：　〃My　husband；　back　at　the　car；　my　his　band！〃　Jim　looked　at　her　and　said　nothing；　unable　to　put　such　bleak　news　in　words　in　front　of　the　child。　
　The　woman　saw　the　truth　in　his　eyes；　and　for　a　moment　her　lovely　face　was　wrenched　into　a　mask　of　grief　and　agony。　But　for　the　sake　of　her　daughter；　she　fought　down　the　sob；　swallowed　it　along　with　her　anguish；　She　said　only；　〃Oh；　my　God；〃　and　each　word　reverberated　with　her　loss　〃Can　you　carry　Susie？〃　Her　mind　was　on　her　dead　husband。　
　He　said；　〃Can　you　carry　Susie？〃　She　blinked　in　confusion。　〃How　do　you　know　her　name？〃　〃Your　husband　told　me。〃　
　〃But〃　〃Before；〃　he　said　sharply；　meaning　before　he　died；　not　wanting　to　raise　false　hope。　〃Can　you　carry　her　out　of　here？〃　〃Yeah；　I　think　so；　maybe。〃　
　He　could　have　carried　the　girl　himself；　but　he　didn't　believe　that　he　should　touch　her。　Though　it　was　irrational　and　emotional；　he　felt　that　what　those　two　men　had　done　to　her…and　what　they　would　have　done　her；　given　a　chance…was　somehow　the　responsibility　of　all　men；　and　that　at　least　a　small　stain　of　guilt　was　his　as　well。　
　Right　now；　the　only　man　in　the　world　who　should　touch　that　child　was　her　father。　And　he　was　dead。　
　Jim　rose　from　his　knees　and　edged　away　from　the　bed。　He　backed　into　a　narrow　closet　door　that　sprang　open　as　he　stepped　aside　of　it。　
　On　the　bed；　the　weeping　girl　squirmed　away　from　her　mother；　so　traumatized　that　she　did　not　at　first　recognize　the　benign　intention　of　even　those　familiar　loving　hands。　Then　abruptly　she　shattered　the　chains　of　terror　and　flew　into　her　mother's　arms。　Lisa　spoke　softly　and　reassuringly　to　her　daughter；　stroked　her　hair；　held　her　tight。　
　The　air…conditioning　had　been　off　ever　since　the　killers　had　parked　and　gone　to　check　the　wrecked　Camaro。　The　bedroom　was　growing　hotter　by　the　second；　and　it　stank。　He　smelled　stale　beer；　sweat；　what　might　have　been　the　lingering　odor　of　dried　blood　rising　from　dark　maroon　stains　on　the　carpet；　and　other　foul　odors　that　he　dared　not　even　try　to　identify。　
　〃e　on；　let's　get　out　of　here。〃　
　Lisa　did　not　appear　to　be　a　strong　woman；　but　she　lifted　her　daughter　as　effortlessly　as　she　would　have　lifted　a　pillow。　With　the　girl　cradled　in　her　arms；　she　moved　toward　the　door。　
　〃Don't　let　her　look　to　the　left　when　you　go　out；〃　he　said。　〃One　of　them's　dead　just　beside　the　door。　It　isn't　pretty。〃　
　Lisa　nodded　once；　with　evident　gratitude　for　the　warning。　
　As　he　started　to　follow　her　through　the　doorway；　he　saw　the　contents　of　the　narrow　closet　that　had　e　open　when　he'd　backed　against　it：　shelves　of　homemade　videotapes。　On　the　spines　were　titles　hand…printed　on　strips　of　white　adhesive　tape。　Names。　The　titles　were　all　names。　
　CINDY。　TIFFANY。　
　Joey。　Cissy。　TOMMY。　KEVIN。　Two　were　labeled　SALLY。　Three　were　labeled　WENDY。　More　names。　Maybe　thirty　in　all。　He　knew　what　he　was　looking　att；　but　he　didn't　want　to　believe　it。　Memories　of　savagery。　
　Mementoes　of　perversion。　Victims。　
　The　bitter　blackness　welled　higher　in　him。　
　He　followed　Lisa　through　the　motor　home　to　the　door；　and　out　into　the　blazing　desert　sun。　
　Lisa　stood　in　the　white…gold　sunshine　on　the　shoulder　of　the　highway　behind　the　motor　home。