Chapter 2 2-1

I've seen pictures of California pepper trees glinting gold in the sun, lace-like and graceful, a dream come true among green trees.At night, the pepper tree looks quite different from its daytime counterpart, appearing to hang its head and hide its worried or mournful face with its hanging leaves. The long driveway to Kirk Funeral Home is lined with these trees.The funeral home stands on a three-acre hill in the northeast corner of the city, on the inner side of Highway 1 and must be reached by a viaduct.These waiting trees are like mourners marching to pay their respects. I climbed up the private road of the funeral parlor, and the mushroom-shaped landscaping lights on the side of the road projected a ring of lights, and the branches and leaves were slightly disturbed in the evening wind.When the wind and the leaves rubbed against each other, they sighed softly.

There were no stops along either side of the road to the funeral home, suggesting no visits are currently taking place. Usually, I walk or ride a bicycle in Moonlight Bay. I have no reason to learn to drive. I can’t drive during the day. At night, I have to wear sunglasses to avoid glare from the oncoming headlights.Police officers on duty always frown when they see a driver wearing sunglasses driving late, no matter how cool you look. A full moon rises. I like the moon, she is bright but not scorching, she polishes the beautiful things brighter, and covers the flaws of the unbeautiful things.

The tarmac looped around the top of the broad hill, forming a small circular sod in the middle.In the center of the turf is a cement mold sculpture imitating Michelangelo's "Pieta". Under the moonlight, the body of Jesus Christ shone in the arms of the mother, and the Virgin Mary also gave off a faint light.Under the sun, such a shoddy imitation must look indescribably shabby. However, most people who come to express their condolences can often get spiritual comfort from these sculptures that reveal the principles of cosmic ethics, even if it is just such a poor imitation.One of the things I appreciate about human beings is their ability to rely on a trickle of hope to lift their hearts to the highest point.

I stopped under the porch of the funeral parlor, feeling terrified, completely unable to assess the dangers of taking the next step. This majestic two-story Georgian building, with its red brick walls and white wood panels, might be the loveliest house in town outside of Moonlight Bay.But Kirk's mansion, perched on the shores of Moonlight Bay, looked more out of the ordinary than a spaceship from another galaxy.This house needs elms instead of pepper trees, a cloudy sky instead of a California sky, cold rain instead of warm downpours. The second floor where Sandy lived was dark at this time.

The mourning hall where the worship ceremony is held is located on the first floor.Looking in through the slightly slanted stained glass on both sides of the main entrance, I could see faint light in the innermost part of the room. I press the bell. At this time, a person came out from the bottom of the corridor and walked to the door step by step.Although I can only see the outline of a person, I can tell from his graceful walking posture that it is Sandy.Kirk.His gestures and gestures are elegant, making him look even more chic. He walked to the entrance and turned on the two lights in the room and the porch lighting. As soon as he opened the door, he saw me squinting at him from under the brim of my hat, showing a rather surprised expression.

"Christopher?" "Good night, Mr. Kirk." "I'm terribly sorry about your father, he was such a good man." "Yes, yes, he is." "We've taken him from the hospital and we've always considered him part of our family. Treated with double courtesy, Christopher - you can rest assured of that.Did you know that I took his anthology of twentieth-century poetry when I was at Graytown? " "Yes, of course." "From him I learned to appreciate Eliot and Pound, Au-den and Plath, Beckett and Ashbery, and There was Robert. Bray. Yates. Got it all from him. When I started that course I found reading poetry unbearable - and by the time I finished I couldn't live without it .”

"Wallace Stevens, Donald JUstice and Louise Gluck are his personal favorite poets." Sandy smiled and nodded, then said, "Oh, sorry, I forgot." Out of consideration for my personal situation, he deliberately turned off the lights in the entrance and porch. Standing in the darkened doorway, he said to me, "This must have hit you hard, but at least he won't have to suffer anymore." Sandy has green eyes, but under the bright moonlight at this time, they look as black as a beetle's shell. I looked into his eyes carefully and asked, "Can I see him?"

"What? Is it your father?" "When they removed him from the ward, I didn't lift the sheet to see him for the last time. I was really not in the mood and didn't think it was necessary. But now... I really want to see him one last time." Sandy's eyes were as still as the surface of the sea at night, but beneath that seemingly peaceful surface was a sea of ​​turmoil. He still maintained the calm tone of his kindly chief comforting the bereaved family members: "Oh, Christopher... I'm really sorry, but the formalities have already begun." "Have you put him in the fire?"

Sandy, who had grown up in a family business full of euphemisms, seemed a little blindsided by my bluntness. "The dead have been sent for cremation, yes." "Isn't that too fast?" "In our line of business, it's not wise to delay things. If I knew you were coming, if there was enough light for me to see the true green color of his eyes, I doubt he would dare use his carapace eyes. Boldly look me in the eye. When I was silent for a moment, he immediately said again: "Christopher, this incident makes me feel very distressed. Seeing you so sad, I know that I could have helped a little."

In my ridiculous life, there are some things I have experienced a lot, and some things I have never had the opportunity to experience.Though the day is quite foreign to me, I know the night like no other.Although I know that some ignorant fools often take me for meanness, my understanding of human nature mainly comes from getting along with my parents and good friends who are like me day and night, so I rarely get malicious Deceiving experience.Sandy's big lie made me so ashamed, as if it was not only his shame, but mine as well.I could no longer look into his obsidian eyes, and I couldn't help but stare down at the porch floor.

He mistook my shame for being too sad to speak, and went out on the porch and patted me on the shoulder. I try not to run away from his movements. "It's my job to provide comfort, Christopher, and I'm not at all good at it. To be honest—I don't know what to say to make death meaningful, or make it any less difficult. It's easier to bear." I just want to kick his ass. "I'll be fine," I said, knowing I'd better get out before doing something impulsive. "I hear myself and people saying clichés, things you'd never read in your father's favorite poems, all I don't want to say to you, so there's only one special to you." I nodded and took a slight step back from his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Kirk, and sorry to bother you." "You're not bothering me, not at all, and I wish you'd called earlier, Then I have a way to... procrastinate. " "It wasn't your fault, it's okay, really." I stepped back from the red-brick porch without steps to the asphalt under the colonnade, and turned my back on Sandy. He stepped back again to the door between the two pieces of darkness, and asked, "Have you thought about the funeral—when will it be held? How will it be held?" "No, no, I haven't had time to think about it yet. I'll tell you tomorrow." Just as I was about to leave, Sandy asked again, "Christopher, are you all right?" This time I faced him with some distance, and replied casually in a tone that was so numb that there was no cadence: "It's okay, I'm fine, I'll be fine. Thank you, Mr. Kirk." "I wish you had called earlier." I shrugged, put my hands in the pockets of my jacket, and turned away from the mansion again, toward the Madonna of the Lamentation. The mica fragments mixed in the raw materials of the statue, illuminated by the crystal moonlight, make the Virgin's cheeks look shiny. I resisted the urge to look back at the undertaker, who I was pretty sure was still watching me. I kept walking down the road, and the forgotten street trees on either side seemed to be talking in whispers. Before I knew it, the temperature had dropped to around sixty degrees Fahrenheit.The breeze blowing from the sea appears more pure after passing through thousands of miles of ocean, with only a touch of salty taste. I didn't dare to look back until the downhill private drive had taken me long out of Sandy's sight.All I could see were the shadows of gabled roofs and chimneys looming against the starry sky. I turned from tarmac to grass, then uphill, this time in the shadow of the leaves.A round of bright moon in the sky seems to be woven into the long flowing braids of pepper trees. The winding road of the funeral parlor appeared in front of my eyes again, and the statue of the Madonna and the colonnade of the main entrance were vividly seen. Sandy had entered the house, and the front door was closed. I stood on the lawn, and using the trees and bushes for cover, I walked around behind the house.The backyard has a deep verandah with steps down to a seventy-foot, competition-size swimming pool, an expansive brick Spanish-style courtyard, and a magnificent rose garden—from These views are completely invisible from the public areas of the funeral home. A city of our size welcomes an average of two hundred newborns every year and at the same time faces the death of a hundred citizens.There are only two funeral parlors in this area. Kirk probably covers more than 70% of the business—this does not include the business in other counties and cities that accounts for half of the business in the city.For Sandy, death is the best tool for making a living. The view from the inner courtyard during the day must have been admirable: to the east, as far as the eye could see, was a stretch of uninhabited hills, with only here and there here and there gracefully scattered with dark, gnarled oaks. As soon as I saw that the lighted window behind me was empty, I hurried across the inner courtyard.The moon, as bright as a rose petal, floated lightly on the dark water of the swimming pool. Adjacent to the house was a spacious L-shaped garage, accessible only by the front door, where two hearses and Sandy's personal car were parked—besides, the farthest side from the main hall was the crematorium where. I sneaked around the corner behind the garage and walked along the shorter side of the L, luckily covered by tall eucalyptus trees that mostly shaded me from the moonlight.The air smells of the herbs of the trees, and the thick layer of dead leaves makes a "creaking" sound under the feet. There is no corner in the whole Moonlight Bay that makes me feel strange-especially this place now.I spend most nights exploring our downtown area, and the occasional Some horrific discoveries. The dim yellow light on the left in front of me is where the windows of the crematorium are located.As I approached, I was quite sure that there were going to be some weird and scary scenes before my eyes, even more than me and Bobby.What Holloway witnessed one October night when he was thirteen... turned out to be exactly what I had predicted. Fifteen years ago, I was as morbidly inclined as other young boys of my age, obsessed with the mystery, horror and magnificence of death.At that time me and Bobby.Hedgewig was already friends, and we agreed that it would be heroic to sneak into a funeral home looking for something ugly, scary, and scary. I can't recall what exactly we were expecting or hoping to find, a bunch of skulls?A balcony made of bones?Still in some secret laboratory, spying on Frank, who is kind and evil.Kirk and his good-natured son Sandy summon lightning from the clouds to wake our dead neighbors from their graves and use them as cooks and clean-ups? Maybe we thought we would bump into the thorn altar of the ancestor evil gods Cthul-hU and Yog-Sothoth at the end of the rose garden. Bobby and I read a lot of Lovecliffe in those days Special (HP Lovecraft) works. Bobby said we were a pair of eccentric urchins; I said that although we were eccentric, we were only comparable to other little boys. Bobby says maybe I'm right, but other boys get out of their quirky habits as they get older, but we seem to get worse the older we get. I don't agree with Bobby, I don't think I'm weirder than other boys I know.In fact, I don't look too weird compared to some people. So was Bobby, but since he valued his eccentricity, he wanted me to join him in appreciating my own eccentricity. He insists that he is weirder than other people, and he claims that the more we admit and show our weirdness, the more we can live in harmony with nature, because nature is full of wonders. Anyway, one October evening, Bobby.Hegway and I stumbled upon the crematorium window at the back of the undertaker's garage, attracted only by the flickering firelight on the windowpane. Since the windows were opened very high, our height was not enough to peek into the interior, so we gave full play to the spirit of the guerrillas to secretly detect the enemy camp, and moved a wooden bench from the inner courtyard all the way to the back of the garage and set it up Just below that glowing window. We stood side by side on stools, trying to find out.There was a shutter on the inside of the window, but they had forgotten to close the blades of the shutter that day, and we could see Frank quite clearly.Kirk and his assistant working inside. Because we are standing outside, the indoor light is not bright enough to hurt us.At least that's what I thought when I pressed my nose to the windowpane. Although I was brought up to be very cautious, I was still a boy who loved adventure and friendship.Therefore, even if I knew that I was in danger of going blind, I didn't want to miss and Bobby.Holloway shared the opportunity to share that moment. A stretcher was parked near the window, and an old gentleman's body was lying on it.The corpse was covered with a sheet, only revealing a horrific face.His gray and blond hair was matted and matted, making him look as if he had died in a violent wind.However, judging from his waxy skin, sunken cheeks, and severely cracked lips, he must have died not from the storm, but from a long struggle with illness. Even if Bobby and I knew him well when he was alive, we wouldn't recognize him in his pale and emaciated form.Even if he is an acquaintance, he still looks scary, but we may be less likely to regard him as an object to satisfy the dark entertainment and fantasies of young boys. For us, we're just proud of being thirteen.Of course, the most thrilling, incredible, and wonderful thing about this corpse lies in its terrifying features.He closed one eye, and the other eye was wide open, sealed by the gushing red blood. That eye fascinated us deeply. Although he is as blind and lifeless as the eyes painted on a doll, it sees into our hearts as soon as we take it. Sometimes we just quietly freak out, other times we whisper to each other like a pair of live color TV sports reporters, and that's it, we watch the law Rank and his assistants get the incinerator ready.The temperature in the room must have been warm, because the two of them were pulling their ties and rolling up their sleeves, and their faces were sweating profusely. Although it was a very mild October night outside, Bobby and I still couldn't help shivering and comparing each other who had more goosebumps. We also wondered why there was no white smoke in our exhaled breath. The cremator turned back the sheet that covered the corpse, and the horror of old age and deadly disease left us two little ghosts speechless.However, when we watch "Night of the Living Dead" (Night of the Living Dead) with gusto, we also can't speak with our mouths open in surprise and joy. As they put the body in the cardboard box and pushed it into the blue flames of the incinerator, I clutched Bobby's arm, and his sweaty hand gripped the back of my neck. We clung to each other as if we were afraid that some supernatural force would pull us inexorably, and we would smash the glass and be swept into the crematorium, where we would end up with the dead body. Frank.Kirk closed the incinerator door. The final bang of the drill as the stove door shuts is powerful enough to reverberate in our bones despite the window. Later, we worked together to move the pumping bench back to the inner courtyard, and then quickly escaped from the funeral home.We ducked into the bleachers of a football field behind a high school.When there's no ball games going on, there's no lights in there, so it's pretty safe for me.Bobby bought Coke and potato chips at 7-11 on the road, and we drank Coke and ate potato chips. "That's cool, that's cool!" said Bobby excitedly. "Simply cool!" I agree. "Cooler than Ned's playing cards." Ned is a friend of ours who moved to San Francisco with his parents in August, and once he got a deck of playing cards from somewhere - he won't reveal the source - and it was full of naked fire-breathing girls color photos of fifty-two different beauties. "One hundred percent cooler than those playing cards." I agree with him. "Cooler than a big tanker truck flipping over and exploding on the highway." "Yeah, that's right, a million times cooler than that. And cooler than Zack Blenheim getting 28 slits on his arm when he got bitten by a bull." "Definitely cooler than the North Pole," I said emphatically. "That eye of his is real!" Babi exclaimed, recalling the blood that had gone in and out. "Oh, my God, that eye of his!" "Super monster!" We drank Coke.Talking and laughing, we've never had such a good laugh in one night. When people are thirteen years old, they are really small ghosts. Sitting in the bleachers of the stadium, I knew that this thrilling adventure had formed a friendship with Bobby that would never be parted.We had been friends for two years before that, but our friendship was stronger and more complicated after that night than it had been at the beginning of the evening.We shared a terrifying and shocking experience - and we also felt that this incident was not as simple as it appeared, and its depths were beyond the comprehension of our age.In my eyes, Barbie added a touch of mystery to the previous ones.I was the same in his eyes; for having joined us in this daring expedition. <Come on, I just realized that this incident is just a prelude.We really became best friends in the second week of December—because we witnessed a more disturbing sight than blood-red eyes. Now, fifteen years later, I think I'm too old for the game of adventure, and I don't feel like a thirteen-year-old boy can sneak across other people's land with the peace of mind.And yet here I am, treading cautiously through layers of dead eucalyptus leaves, bringing my face closer to that window of fate once more. The shutter, yellowed with age, was clearly the same one that Bobby and I had peeped through the opening all those years ago.At this time, the blades of the shutters were adjusted to an angle, but the gap between the blades was wide enough for me to see the movement and stillness of the entire incinerator—this time my body He was tall enough that he didn't need the assistance of the bench in the inner courtyard. Sandy.Kirk and his assistants are busy with the Power Parker II incineration system. They wore surgeon's masks, rubber gloves and disposable plastic aprons. On the stretcher trolley near the window was an opaque nylon body bag, unzipped, and inside lay a dead man, apparently the homeless man who was about to be cremated in my father's place.He was about five feet ten inches tall and weighed one hundred and sixty pounds.Since he was badly wounded, I can't estimate his age, his whole face was smashed up. At first I thought his eyes were covered with clotted blood, but then I realized that both of his eyes were missing, so I saw holes in his eyes. I thought of the old man with the bleeding eye, which was scary enough for Bobby and me, but it was nothing compared to that.Back then it meant the ruthlessness of nature, but now it means the sinisterness of the human heart. In that October and November many years ago, Bobby.Holloway and I occasionally went back to peek through the windows of the crematorium.We walked through the eerie night, wary of tripping over the ivy on the ground, our lungs filling with the scent of the surrounding eucalyptus that I associate to this day with death. Before those two months, Frank held a total of fourteen funerals, but only three of the deceased were cremated.Others use antiseptics to match traditional burials. Bobby and I always lamented that the embalming room had no windows for our use, that the most sacred place—“the place where they do their wet work,” in Bobby’s words—was located in the basement, keeping us daring spies from There are opportunities to take advantage of. Privately, I'm actually glad we only get to observe Frank.Kirk's "work", I guess Bobby must have breathed a sigh of relief, although he pretended to be very disappointed. On the plus side, I'm guessing Frank usually does the embalming during the day and cremates the remains at night, making it impossible for us to participate. The cumbersome incinerator back then was much more primitive than the "Power Parker II" that Sandy is using now. Although it can process remains at a relatively high temperature, and it claims to have an exhaust control device, it still inevitably allows the curling smoke to flow from the chimney. sprang out.Frank chose to cremate the body at night mainly out of respect for the family members, relatives and friends of the deceased.During the day, if they look from the city at the foot of the hill to the funeral home on the hilltop, they are likely to see their loved ones or friends disappearing into the sky in a hazy wisp of smoke. Conveniently for us, Bobby's father, Anson, happened to be the editor-in-chief of the Moonlight Bay Gazette.Bobby could easily use his connections and familiarity with the papers to provide us with the latest news on accidental and natural deaths. We'll know as soon as Frank has a fresh body, but we can't be sure whether he'll be embalmed or cremated.As soon as the sun went down, we eagerly rode our bikes to the neighboring funeral home, then sneaked onto the property's private property and waited at the cremation window until the cremation process began or we were sure this one would not be cremated. Mr. Geers, the sixty-year-old president of National First Bank, died of a heart attack at the end of October.We watched him being pushed into the furnace. In November, there was a man named Henry.Carpenter in Eames fell off roof and broke cervical spine.Although Eames was also cremated in the end, Bobby and I did not witness this process because of Frank.Kirk or his assistant remembered to close the shutter blades this time. However, the second week of December when we went to see Robecky.The shutters were left open as Ekiran's body was cremated.She married a man named Tom.Ekiran's junior high school math teacher, Bobby attended that junior high school, but I didn't, Ms. Ekiran is a librarian in the municipal library, she is only thirty years old, and has a five-year-old son named Dai Weilin. Miss Ai Zhenglan was lying quietly on the stretcher trolley, her whole body was covered with sheets from the bottom of her belly.She looks so beautiful, her face is not only dreamlike in our eyes, but also holds a considerable weight in our hearts.We can barely breathe. Guess we all understand that she is a beautiful woman, but we never thought anything wrong about her.After all, she is a librarian, and she is also a mother. Besides, when we were thirteen years old, we didn't know how to appreciate this kind of beauty that is as quiet as the stars falling from the Milky Way and as clear as rain.The hot naked girls on the playing cards are enough to attract our attention Willpower.Before that day, though we had often seen Ms. Ekiran, we had never paid much attention to her. Death did not leave a mark on her face, for she walked so fast.It was said to be caused by a defect in the walls of the cerebral arteries, no doubt congenital, but never discovered; the swelling finally burst open one afternoon.She died within hours. She was lying on the stretcher trolley with her eyes closed.Her facial features look so peaceful, as if she is in sleep; in fact, the corners of her mouth are slightly raised, as if she is in a dream. When the two cremation workers lifted the sheets to put Ms. Ai Zhenglan into the cardboard box, Bobby and I saw her slender body, delicate and well-proportioned, her beauty cannot be described in words.That kind of beauty far exceeds the attraction of carnal desire.We looked at her with admiration, without a trace of distraction. She looks so young.She looks like Mi never gets old. The undertaker pushed her into the fire with unusual tenderness and awe.When the stove door closed behind her, Frank.Kirk immediately took off the rubber glove, and gently wiped the corner of the third eye with the back of one hand, and then wiped it again.It wasn't sweat he wiped away. In the past, during the cremation process, Frank and his assistants chatted lightly about family matters almost from beginning to end, although we could not understand what they said.But this evening, they barely exchanged a word. Barbie I am also speechless.We moved the benches back into the inner courtyard and quietly left Kirk Funeral Home. After retrieving our bikes, we rode along the shadiest streets across Moonlight Bay. We go to the beach.At this time, this season, the entire wide sandy beach is exposed to the water and looks deserted.Behind us, the lights of the city shone like the colorful feathers of a phoenix among the hills and foliage; before us, the vast Pacific Ocean and its ink-like waves. The waves tonight are very flat, and the distance between the waves is quite wide.The gentle breakers slid up the shore, lazily whipped up the shimmering tops, and then collapsed from right to left, like a white skin peeling off the black flesh of the sea. Sitting on the beach watching the waves, I thought it was Christmas in two weeks, and I didn't want to think about Christmas, but it kept jingling in my head. I don't know what's going on in Bobby's mind, I don't want to ask, I don't want to talk.So does he. I thought of little Dai Weilin, wondering how he would spend Christmas this year after losing his mother.Perhaps he was too young to understand what death was. But her husband, Tom.Ekiran must know what death is.In any case, he should still decorate a Christmas tree for Dai Weilin.Where did he have the energy to wind the gold and silver threads around the branches? For the first time since we saw the shroud lifted from Ms. Ekiran, Bobby broke the silence: "Go swim!" Although the weather is quite mild today, it is still December after all, and this year there is no warm tide brought by the El Baby boom from the southern hemisphere.The temperature of the sea water is quite unwelcoming and the wind is a bit cool. Bobby stripped off his clothes, and to keep them from getting sand, he folded them on top of a dry, tangled kelp that had been washed ashore during the day and then dried in the sun.I put my clothes next to him. We waded naked into the dark water, then swam out against the current, well out from shore. Then we turned around and headed north, flowing parallel to the beach.The surf is easy, the water and electricity are almost effortless, and we skillfully ride the ebbing waves and swim a fairly dangerous distance. We're both good swimmers - but now we're a little careless. Generally, swimmers will gradually reduce their discomfort to cold water after soaking in water for a while; as the body temperature drops, the gap between body temperature and water temperature will gradually narrow.In addition In addition, the movement of limbs will give people the illusion of body heat, and this kind of misinformation that is easy to be careless can lead to danger. But right now, the icy water temperature keeps getting colder as our body temperature drops, and we've never reached a comfortable temperature, whether it's actually rising or not. If we had any common sense then, having swum this far north, we would have swam to the shore and walked back along the beach to where we put our clothes.We didn't do that, but just paused a little bit where we were.We kept treading water, shivering as we inhaled, air cold enough to wash our precious body heat from our throats.Then, at the same time, we turned around and traveled south along the original road at the same time, which was still far away from the shore. I felt my limbs getting heavier and my stomach cramping horribly.Just the deep pounding of my heart against the waves is enough to propel me into the depths of the ocean. Although the oncoming waves were actually as gentle as they had come, they felt much more violent, as if they were constantly biting us with their cold, tooth-smearing foam.We move forward side by side.Be careful not to let the other person out of your sight.The night sky offers no comfort in winter, the lights of the city are as distant as the stars, and even the sea has a dark heart.The only thing we have is our mutual friendship, knowing in our hearts that no matter what dangers we face, we will do everything in our power to save each other. When we returned to the original starting point, we hardly even had the strength to get out of the sea. We spat out the bitter smell of the sea, exhausted, nauseous, trembling violently, our faces paler than the sand on the beach. We were so frozen that we couldn't even remember how hot the incinerator fire was.Even after putting on clothes, I still feel freezing as hell.It was a great feeling. We pushed our bicycles off the beach, across the park turf at the edge of the beach, and onto the nearest street. Bobby got on his bicycle and cursed, "Shit." "Good scolding." I said. Then we rode our bikes back home. We fell asleep as soon as we got home, even though we didn't feel very well.Sleep, dream, life goes on like this. After that time, we never went to the window of the crematorium again, and we never mentioned Ms. Ekiran again. After all these years, Bobby and I are still best friends who don't hesitate to do anything for each other. How wonderful is this world!Things that we can first experience with our senses—such as the exquisite female body structure, our own bones and flesh, cold sea water, and starlight in the sky, etc.—are better than things we cannot touch, taste, smell, or Things that cannot be seen are not real.Bicycles and little boys riding bicycles may not be as real as our inner imaginations, nor as emotions like love, friendship, and loneliness that outlast the world. On this March night, the windows of the crematorium and the scene inside were more real than I had expected.Someone brutally beat a hitchhiker to death and gouged out his eyes. Even if the motive for the murder was to swap hands with my father's corpse, why did he have to goug out his eyes?Is there any reason why this poor guy has to be sent to the pit of fire without even eyes?Is the motive for mutilating the corpse purely for the pursuit of vile and indecent thrills? I think of the burly man with a shaved head and a pearl earring, his broad and rough face, and his cold killer eyes, dark and calm.His voice was as cold as iron, with the harshness of a rusty iron knife. It is indeed possible for a man of his kind to take pleasure in other people's pain, to cut a knife in human flesh as calmly as he snaps a branch in the wild. In the cremation room, Sandy and his assistants were pushing the stretcher in the direction of the furnace when the phone rang suddenly. Filled with guilt, I dodged from the window as if I had accidentally set off an alarm bell. 当我再度靠近窗口时，我看见桑第扯下口罩，并从墙上拿起电话 筒。他说话的语调听起来先是充满疑惑，然后是警觉，最后变成勃然大怒。由于双层玻璃的阻隔，我无法听见他说话的内容。 桑第把话筒用力捧回去，几乎要把整个电话机都从墙上砸落。 不管电话的另一端是谁，这一声巨响想必把他的耳朵清得一干二净。 桑第一边把橡皮手套脱下，一边用着急的口吻和他的助手说了些话。我觉得好象听见他们提到我的名字——听起来不像欣赏或关爱。 他的助手杰西卡恩有着灰狗般消瘦的脸颊，红头发和赤褐色的眼睛。他单薄的嘴唇总是抿着，平思开始将尸袋的拉链拉上，掩住流浪汉的尸体。 桑第的西装外套挂在右边门上的一个挂钩上。当他把衣服从挂钩取下的时候，我发现他外套下面居然挂着一条肩挂式手枪皮套，因着手枪的重量而下垂。 看着平恩还在笨手笨脚地摸弄尸袋，桑第开始对他大呼小叫——并对着窗户比手划脚。 我猜自己应该没有被看到。 不过，别忘了我是个超级乐观主义者，乐观是我的自动反应。但是在这种情况下，听从比较悲观的直觉莫再逗留才是明智之举。我沿着车库后墙和尤加利树丛之间的缝隙仓惶前进，穿过弥漫着死亡香味的空气，朝后院逃逸。 在我脚下，枯叶像被踩碎蜗牛壳发出清脆的响声，还好有晚风吹动头顶上树枝的声音作为掩护。飘洋过海的晚风带着大海空茫的声音吹拂着，掩盖了我的行迹，同样也会掩盖跟踪者的脚步声。 我敢确定那通电话是其中一个医院杂役打来的。他们一定是在勘验过手提箱的内容，发现父亲的皮夹之后，断定我一定到过医院的车库并亲眼目睹交换尸体一事。 听到这个消息之后，桑第才理解到原来我出现在他家门口的动机并不如他想象般单纯。他和杰西。平思一定会马上跑出来看我是否还在附近张望。 我来到后院，修整过的草皮此时似乎比印象中宽阔许多。我没有胆量穿过砖造的内院。事实上，我已经决定不在房子和车道附近逗留，走原路回去的风险实在太大了。 我用最快的速度跑过草坪，来到殡仪馆后方的玫瑰花圃。在我面前是一片拾级而下的梯台，上面布满了交错的格子围篱，像隧道一样的藤架，和迷宫般蜿蜒崎岖的小径。 在这个气候温和的沿海地区，春天丝毫不会为了配合节气放慢开春的脚步，此时花圃里的玫瑰花早已盛开。红色和其他深色的花朵在月光下看起来变成黑色，像是为这充满罪恶的祭坛而栽种的玫瑰。不过，除此之外，还有许多白色的花，大小就跟婴儿的头颅一样，在微风演奏的摇蓝曲中摇头晃脑打着瞌睡。 这时突然有人声从我身边传来；他们讲话的声音被风吹得稀稀疏疏、断断续续。我沿着一排高耸的格子围篱爬行，沿路不停从白色木条交叉处的方格空隙回头探视，并小心地将纠结的蔓草推到一旁。 两道手电筒的强光从车库附近放射出来，将灌木丛逼出阴影，连鬼魂都吓得往高处的树枝弹跳，光线继续横扫过玻璃窗折射出刺眼的光芒。 桑第。寇克在握着一把手电筒，身上必定携带着我先前看到的那把手枪。杰西。平恩手里可能也握有武器。从前的时代，殡仪馆业者和他们的助手是不携带武器的。今晚以前，我一直都以为自己还生存在那个年代里。 我很讶异地看见第三支手电筒的光线在房舍远端的另一个角落出现。接着我看见第四个，第五个，第六个。 我完全不知道这些新加入的搜索人员是何方神圣，也不知道他们到底从哪里冒出来，可以这么快加入搜索的阵容。他们一字排开，下意识地穿过后院，内院，游泳池，拿着手电筒四处探视，他们的身影就像梦魇中没有固定形状的恶魔般，一路朝玫瑰花圃逼近。 梦魇中分不清脸孔的追逐者和找不到出路的迷宫，此刻竟活生生地出现在眼前。 山坡上的花圃由上而下形成五层阶梯式的平台。虽然沿路大多是平地，而且平台和平台之间的斜坡也还算平缓，但是由于下坡的速度太快，我担心自己一不留神就会失足跌倒或摔断腿骨。 矗立在四面八方的花棚以及格子状围篱，看起来愈来愈像被掏空的废墟。玫瑰花棚和围篱的低处攀满了带刺的蔓草，当我从旁仓惶跑过时，它们似乎具有动物生命力似的突然扭动。 整个夜晚严然已成为一场清醒时分的梦魔。 我的心噗通噗通猛跳，连天上的星星都跟着摇摇晃晃。 我觉得整个天顶即将朝我扬下来，就像雪崩一样速度愈来愈快。 好不容易冲到花园的尽头，我可以看见矗立前方约莫有七尺高的铁栏杆，它光亮的黑色油漆在月光下闪耀。我用脚跟嵌入地上松软的泥土紧急刹车，可是依然控上坚固的栏杆，不过撞得不是很用力，所以并没有受伤。 我几乎没有制造出任何噪音。由于栏杆上竖着的尖矛非常坚固地焊接在横杆上，所以铁栏杆在我的冲撞之下并未发出声响，只是稍微震动了一下。 我整个人背靠着铁栏杆往下蹲。 我的嘴里有一股说不出的苦涩味，可是我已经干渴得什么也吐不出来。 我右边的太阳穴也隐隐刺痛。我伸手触摸自己的脸，发现有三根荆刺插在肉里。我把它们通通拔出来。 想必是逃下山坡的途中不小心被岔出来的玫瑰花荆刮到，不过我自己一点印象也没有。 或许是我冲得太快太猛，此刻连玫瑰花浓郁的芳香都变成刺鼻的腐臭。我甚至可以闻到自己防晒油的味道，就和刚涂抹时的味道一样浓——只不过现在还混杂了些许汗酸味——想必是出汗时又把防晒油的香气蒸发出来。 我忽然有种荒诞的想法，觉得那六名猎捕我的杀手可以像猎犬一样凭嗅觉闻出我的行踪。不过，我目前暂时不会有危险，因为我处的位置是在他们的下风处。 我抓着铁栏杆，栏杆的震动沿着我的手一直传到骨子里。我趁这个机会往上坡的方向张望。整个搜索队伍正要从最顶端的梯台爬到第二层梯台。 六道镰刀似的强光在玫瑰花丛中挥来划去，被灯光扭曲的篱笆看起来像是恐龙的白骨。 这座花园里可以藏身的角落远比上方的草皮多，因此搜捕人员要检查的地方也大幅增加，但是他们的动作似乎有愈来愈快的趋势。 我小心地越过栏杆，以免夹克的口袋或牛仔裤的裤管被栏杆顶上的尖矛钩到。一片宽阔的土地呈现在我面前，幽暗的山谷，绵延高起的山坡，和分散各处却看不太清楚的黑橡树。 山上的野草在经历近来丰沛的冬雨之后长得特别茂盛。我从栏杆上跃下来的时候，草的高度大约在我膝盖附近。我可以嗅到新鲜的青草汁从我鞋底下压扁的草叶挤出来的气味。 我确信桑第一伙人绝对不会放过这附近的每一寸土地，于是连跑带跳地逃离殡仪馆。我必须在他们抵达铁栏杆之前，逃到手电筒照射的范围之外。 我愈跑离市区愈远，这不是个好征兆，在野地里我完全无法寻求任何协助。每向东跑一步，我就愈向孤立靠近一步，我单独一个人的时候，就跟任何人一样脆弱，或许比大多数的人都还脆弱。 我的运气好正巧遇上这个季节，若是在燠热的夏天，这些长高的 草就会变得金黄、干燥，那么我走过的地方势必会留下一道草杆被践踏的轨迹。 我恨不得这些新长出来的嫩草能在我走过之后自动弹回原处，将我走过的足迹掩盖。否则，只要是稍具观察力的搜寻人员都能看出我的去向。 在大约离铁栏杆两公尺处的斜坡底端，原先的草坪紧接着浓密的灌木丛。五尺高的芒草丛混杂着一簇簇的羊须草；形成室碍难行的障碍。 我急忙费劲地杀出丛林，来到一处宽约十英尺的天然排水道。 这里没有长什么植物，因为被前一场暴风雨冲刷之后，山脚下这个地方露出一条长条形的岩床。加上两个星期没降雨，整条岩脉都是干的。 我停下来让自己喘口气，并倾身将芒草微微向两侧拨开；勘测对方的人马目前抵达花园的什么位置。 他们当中有四个人正在爬铁栏杆。当他们从铁栏杆爬上去再翻下来的时候，手电筒的光线时而像镰刀一样划过夜空，时而在篱笆间晃动闪烁，有时则毫无目标地刺人地面。 看到他们的动作如此快速敏捷，不禁令人提心吊胆。 他们是否都和桑第。寇克一样携带着武器？ 不过，想到他们如动物般敏锐的直觉、速度和锲而不舍的斗志，我想他们大概不需要配戴武器。要是他们逮到我；大概会活生生用手把我撕成碎片。 我怀疑他们会不会也将我的眼睛挖掉。 那条宽敞的排水斜坡——上坡可通东北方，下坡则直通东南方。 由于我目前已经被逼到城市的东北极点，若再继续往东北走对我十分不利。 于是我决定往东南，沿着草丛中的岩石水道走，一个只想尽快回到人口密集的市区。 柔和的月光洒在前方略呈杯状的排水道上，看起来就像冬日池塘上薄薄的一层白冰，朦朦胧胧地呈现在我眼前。两侧高大银白色的茫草显然被霜冻得僵直。 我按栋住内心的恐惧，不顾一切地将自己完全托付给黑夜，就让黑夜像风推帆船一般推着我前进。我沿着缓坡一路往下跳，几乎没有脚触地的感觉，仿佛在冰冻的岩石上溜冰刀。 约莫又过了两百码之后，我来到一个两山交叠之处，原来凹陷的水道又多出一条岔路。我毫无减速地走上了右边的岔路，因为这条路是通往月光湾较直接的路线。 从交叉口前进没多远，我就看见灯光朝我的方向逼近。大约在前方一百码处，岩脉从长满青草的山边向左急转弯之后就消失在视线之中，搜寻光束的来源就在那道急转弯后面，但是我能辨别那是手电筒的光线。 殡仪馆的那帮人不可能有能力在这么短的时间内迅速穿越玫瑰花圃。这些人势必是外面找来的佣兵。 他们试图将我两面包夹。我觉得身后像有一整个军队的人马在追赶，一排一排的士兵像魔术般从地底下一路冒出来。 我急忙停下脚步，考虑要不要离开这条岩脉，改定旁边有芒草或灌木丛掩护的路。我同样还是可以顺着这条岩石水道的方向走，可是这么一来，无论我怎么小心，难免会在沿途留下行踪。到那时候，他们可能会从草丛里蹦出来将我制伏，或者在我试图爬上山坡的时候一枪把我打死。 在前方转弯处，手电筒的灯光变得愈来愈明亮。 我退回水道的交叉口，改走一分钟前放弃的左侧岔路，大约走了六、七百英尺之后，我又来到另一处交叉日，这次我想走右边的岔路——往城里的方向——但愿是又害怕他们识破我的路径，所以我决定走左边的那一条路，尽管这样走下去只会让我离市区愈来愈远。 突然间轰隆隆的引擎声响起，巨大的噪音让我误以为是低空飞 过的飞机。 紧接着一道刺眼的强光扫过在我左侧和右侧的山顶，直接扫过岩石水道，距离我的头顶只有六十到八十英尺。这道光又亮又强，带有重量和质感，犹如一道涌出的白色熔岩。 超强力的探照灯在照射到远处东边和北边的山脊之后，折射出一道弧形的光束。 在这么短的时间内，他们从哪里弄来这么精密复杂的设备？ 难不成桑第。寇克是某个反政府军事组织的头子？难道殡仪馆地底下就是暗藏武器和弹药的军事总部？不，这不太可能。在这个时代里，像这种败坏社会的事情只算是现实生活里的一部分——不过，眼前发生的事太不可思议了。这无疑是夜间新闻没有捕捉到的一条漏网新闻。 我必须知道上面发生的状况。假如不去勘察的话，就跟一只走实验室迷宫的傻老鼠没啥两样。 我穿越水道右边重重的灌木丛，越过一道山洼，然后爬上山坡，因为那似乎是探照灯光来源的方向。当我开始上坡的时候，探照灯的光束又开始在上方的高地扫视——跟我想的一样，从西北方照射过来——接着又扫视第三次，把我正一步步接近的那片山坡照得一片通明。 在用手和膝盖跪在地面上爬行十英尺之后，我匍匐前进爬完最后十英尺。爬到顶端的时候，我钻进一块突起的岩石下方寻求掩护，并小心翼翼地抬起头张望。 一辆黑色的雄蜂号驻足在隔我一个山头的山顶上，紧邻一棵大橡树的下风处——你也可以称它为威蜂号，那是雄蜂号尚未改装卖给民间使用前的原始名称。虽然我只能从车灯的余光中隐约看见它的外型，但是雄蜂号有几个错不了的特色：方盒状沙十型笨重、四轮传动、整座车架在巨大的轮胎上，任何一种地形它都有办法来去自如。 我现在可以看见两道探照灯的强光：一把握在驾驶员的手里，另一把则由坐在前座的同伙控制，每一把探照灯的镜面至少有沙拉盘那么大。像这样强度的光，大概非得靠雄峰号的引擎发电不可。