Chapter 14 Chapter Thirteen Fear

one Tad was so flustered that he literally couldn't move, for how long he had no idea.It's amazing that he can still breathe.Later, he thought it was a feeling he had only experienced when he was ten years old, when he and two friends decided to go swimming in mid-May, at least three weeks earlier than they used to swim, but it still seemed like a good idea.It's sunny and hot in New Jersey in May, with temperatures in the eighties.The three of them walked to Lake Davis, the ironic name they gave to a small pond a mile from Tad's house.He was the first to take off his clothes and put on his swimming trunks, so he was the first in the water.He jumped off the bank and nearly died, on a day when the air felt like midsummer and the water felt like the last day before it froze, and his nervous system short-circuited for a split second.His breathing stopped in his lungs, his heart stopped beating, and by the time he surfaced he was like a car with a dead battery that desperately needed to be recharged as quickly as possible but didn't know how.He remembered the sun shining brightly, throwing thousands of gold-yellow spots on the blue-black water, and he remembered Harry Black and Randy West standing on the bank, Harry slipping his faded swimming trunks into his big Ass pulled up, Randy stood there naked with swimming trunks in hand and shouted, How's the water, Ted?He had just surfaced and all he could think was: I'm dying, right here in the sun, in front of my two best friends, school is over, I don't have homework, and mom says I can watch tv While eating, but I can't see anymore because I'm dying.Breathing, which had been an easy, uncomplicated affair a few seconds ago, was now stuck in his throat, and he could neither exhale nor inhale.His heart was lying in his chest like a small cold brick, and then it burst open, and he took a big breath, and a billion goosebumps grew on his body, and he did it with the malice of a child without thinking Joy tells Randy: The water is fine!Not too cold!jump!He didn't realize until years later that he might have killed them both, as nearly as himself.

He was in the same frozen state now as he was then.He sat on the chair, not in but up, leaning forward, phone still in hand, staring at the antenna on the TV.He knew Liz came in and she asked him who was calling and then what was wrong, just like the day at Lake Davis when his breath was stuck in his throat like a dirty sock, Can't get in and can't get out, the connection between the brain and the heart is suddenly broken, we apologize for the sudden stop, traffic will continue as soon as possible, or stop forever, but in any case, please enjoy the beautiful Anders Vail's stop, where all railroads end.

Then it burst open, just like that time, and he took a deep breath, his heart pounded twice in his chest, and continued beating at its usual rhythm...although it was still beating very fast, too Soon. That scream, oh my god, that scream. Liz was running across the room now, and he didn't realize she'd snatched the receiver from him until he saw her shout hello and who into it over and over again.That's when she heard a disconnection sound and put it back in place. "Miriam," he said at last, as Liz turned to look at him, "it's Miriam, she's screaming."

I've never killed anyone except in the books. The sparrow flew again. Here we call it trash. Here we call it Anderswell. Go back north, man.You're going to give me an alibi because I'm going north. "Miriam? Miriam Cowley? Tad, what's the matter?" "It's him," Thad said. "I know it is, I think I knew it from the beginning, and today...this afternoon...I have another one." "Another time?" She pressed her fingers on the side of her neck and massaged vigorously. "Another loss of consciousness? Another trance?" "It's all," he said, "the sparrow first, and I wrote a lot of random things on a piece of paper in a trance. I threw it away, but her name was on the paper, Liz, Miriam's name It's part of what I wrote in this trance...and..."

He stopped, his eyes wide open. "What? Ted, what's this writing?" He grabbed one of her hands and shook it vigorously. "What's this writing?" “There’s a poster in her living room,” he said, listening to his voice as if it belonged to someone else—a voice from somewhere far away, perhaps over a walkie-talkie, “a poster for a Broadway musical. Cat. I saw it the last time I was there. Cat, now and forever. I wrote that too, and I wrote it because it was there, so I was there, a part of me saw through his eyes… ..." He looked at her, eyes wide open at her. "It's not a tumor, Liz, at least not in me."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Liz almost shouted. "I have to call Rick," he whispered.A part of his mind seemed to levitate and move about, talking to itself in clear images and symbols, and he was sometimes in that state when he was writing, but this was the first time he remembered it in real life— Is writing a real life?He suddenly wanted to ask.He doesn't see writing as real life, it's more like an interruption of real life. "Please Ted!" "I must warn Rick that he may be in danger." "Ted, what are you talking about!"

No, of course he wasn't talking nonsense.If he stopped to explain, he would look even more absurd... If he stopped to tell his wife his worries, it would only arouse her unnecessary speculations, and George Stark was walking through nine streets in Manhattan, from the inside. Rick's ex-wife's apartment to Rick's apartment, sitting in a taxi or stolen car, or sitting behind the driver's seat of the black Toronado of his dreams, smoking a cigarette while preparing to kill Mi Killing Rick like Liam— Has he killed her already? Maybe he just scares her and makes her cry and shock, maybe he hurts her - think about it, it's possible.what did she say?Don't let him cut me again, don't let his bad guys cut me again.There are cut characters on the paper, and... isn't there a termination on it?

Yes, yes, there is.But that's about dreams, isn't it?That's about Anderswell, that's where the railroad ends... isn't it? He prayed so. He had to help her, at least try, he had to warn Rick.But if you call Rick like that, tell him to be careful so suddenly, Rick will ask why. "What's the matter, Tad? What happened?" If he mentioned Miriam's name, Rick would jump up and run to her, because Rick still cared about her, still cared a lot about her.Then he'll find her... dismembered (Thed tries to avoid the idea and image, but he can't help but want to see what pretty Miriam would look like dismembered, like a butcher cut meat on a chopping board).

Maybe that's what Stark was hoping for, as Stupid Ted sends Rick into a trap, and Stupid Ted does it for him. "But haven't I been doing things for him? Isn't that what a pseudonym does?" He felt his heart clog again, pulling itself gently into a knot, like a muscle cramp.He couldn't bear the thought, and now he couldn't bear the thought at all. "Ted...please! Tell me what happened!" He took a deep breath and grabbed her cold arm with his cold hand. "It's the guy who killed Homer Gammazzi and Clausen, he's with Miriam, he's... threatening her. I hope that's all he did. But I don't know how What happened, she was screaming, the phone line went down."

"Oh, Ted, my God!" "There's no time for either of us to be hysterical," he said, thinking, though God knows I'd love to. "Go upstairs and get your address book. I don't have Miriam's number and address. I think you do." "What do you mean by your words, you knew it from the beginning?" "There's no time to discuss this right now, Liz, go get your address book, hurry up, okay?" She was melancholy for a while. "She may be hurt! Go!" She turns and runs out, and he hears her feet hitting the stairs, trying to get his brain going.

Don't call Rick, it's a very bad idea to call Rick if it's a trap. Well - that's it.This is the beginning, who to call next? NYPD?No--they'd ask a lot of time-wasting questions--the first being: How can a guy from Maine report a crime in New York?Not a good idea. Pangbo. Not a bad idea.He could call Pang Bo first, but he had to be careful with his words, at least for now.Things like unconsciousness, sparrow noises, Stark, etc. can be left out for a while.Now Miriam is all that matters.If Miriam was wounded but alive, there was no need to talk about anything that would hinder Pangbo's speed.It's up to Pombo to call the NYPD, they'll move faster and have fewer problems if the tip comes from one of their own colleagues, even if that colleague happens to be in Maine. But call Miriam first, God help her answer. Liz ran back to the house with the address book, her face was as pale as when she had just given birth to William and Wendy. "Here," she said, breathing heavily, almost panting. It's going to be all right, he tried to tell her, but stopped.He didn't want to say anything that was easily proven to be a lie... Miriam's screams meant that things were not going well, and at least for Miriam, it was never going to be all right. "Here's a man, and here's a bad man." Thinking of Stark, Ted shivered.He was a very bad man, Ted knew that better than anyone, after all he had made George Stark... hadn't he? "We're all right," he said to Liz—at least it was true.So far, he added in his mind. "Keep calm, baby, it's not going to help Miriam when you get overwhelmed and faint." She sat upright, staring at him, biting her lower lip with her teeth.Ted began typing Miriam's number, his fingers trembling a little, and he hit the second number twice by mistake.You tell others to be calm, but you can't do it yourself.He took a long breath, collected himself, pressed the end button, and started again, forcing himself to slow down.He hit the last key and listened for the click of the phone. "God, keep her well and at least let her answer the phone if something happens to her. Please." But the phone didn't ring, only busy tone.Maybe the line was really busy, maybe she was calling Rick or the hospital, maybe the phone wasn't on the shelf. But there was another possibility, he thought as he hit the hang up button.Maybe Stark pulled the phone cord out of the wall, maybe ("Don't let the bad guys cut me again") he did cut it. Like he cut Miriam. With a pocket razor, Tad thought, with a chill down his spine.That was the word he had written on the paper that afternoon: razor. two The ensuing half hour was unbelievable, as he felt it when Pangbo and two cops came to arrest him for a murder he didn't know about.There's no sense of physical threat—at least not of imminent physical threat—but there's the sense of walking through a dark room full of cobwebs brushing your face, which is first itchy and eventually painful. Angry, these spider silks are not straight, when you try to grab them, they float away gently. He tried Miriam's number one more time, and when it was still busy, he pressed the end button again, feeling depressed for a moment, wondering whether to call Pangbo or check Miriam with the New York operator. Tom's phone.Do they have a way of distinguishing a busy phone from a dead one?He thought they could, but the most important thing now was that Miriam had suddenly lost contact with him, and it was impossible to contact her again.But they could find out - Liz could find out - if they had two lines.Why don't they have two lines?Not having two lines is stupid, right? Although these thoughts flashed through his mind in two seconds, it felt like a long time, and he hated himself for hesitating while Miriam might be bleeding to death in her apartment.The characters in the books—at least in Stark's books—never hesitate like this, they never stop to wonder why they don't have a second phone line just in case, crap like that, the characters in the books Never wasting time, never getting tense like this all of a sudden. The world would be a more efficient place, he thought, if everyone was like a character in a popular novel.Characters in pulp fiction always keep their heads above water as they develop from one chapter to the next. He dialed the Maine directory, and the operator asked, "What city, please?" He didn't know what to say for a moment, because Fort Rock was a town, not a city.Then he thought, Don't panic, Tad, you must keep your composure, you shouldn't let Miriam die from your panic.He doesn't even have time to think about why he can't let this happen and answer: the only real person he can control is himself, and panic isn't part of his persona, at least he sees it that way. "Here we call it bullshit, Tad. Here we call it fool--" "Sir?" the operator urged. "Which city?" "Okay. Hold yourself in check." He took a deep breath, collected himself, and said, "City of Castle Rock." Jesus, he closed his eyes, and said slowly and clearly, "Excuse me, Operator, Castle Rock. I want the number of the Sheriff's Office." There was a pause, and then a robotic voice began to speak the phone number.Ted realized he had no pen or pencil with him.The machine began to speak a second time.Tad tried to remember it, the number passing through his brain and into the darkness without leaving a trace. "If you need further assistance," the machine voice continued, "please hang up, operator—" "Liz?" he demanded. "Pen? Something to write on?" There was a pen stuck in her address book, and she handed it to him.At this point the operator was back on the phone, and Ted told her he hadn't written down the number.The operator called the machine again, and it spoke again in a woman's voice. Ted wrote the number on the cover of a book, and was about to hang it up when he decided to check it again.He listened to it a second time and found that he had reversed the order of the two numbers.Ah, obviously, he was panicked to the extreme. He hit the hang up button, and his whole body was covered with fine sweat. "Take it easy, Ted." "You didn't hear her," he said coldly, and started dialing the sheriff's office. The phone rang four times before a weary voice said, "This is the Fort Rock Sheriff's Office. This is Deputy Sheriff Rijwick. What's the matter?" "I'm Ted Beaumont, calling from Ludlow." "Oh," the other voice didn't recognize Ted's meaning, not at all, which meant more explanation was needed.Rijwick's name is a bit familiar. By the way, he is the one who interviewed Mrs. Arsent and found Gamazi's body.God, how could he find out about the old man suspected of being Ted's murder without knowing who Ted was? "Sergeant Pombo came here... to discuss the Homer Gamazi murder with me, Deputy Rijwick. I have information about it and I need to speak to him right away." "The Sheriff isn't here," Rijwick said, unfazed by Tad's urgency. "Oh, where is he?" "at home." "Please tell me his home phone number." The other party replied in disbelief: "Ah, I don't think I should give it to you, Mr. Portman. The sheriff has been busy recently, and his wife is not in good health. She has a headache." "I have to talk to him!" "Well," Rijwick said calmly, "obviously you think you have to talk to him, and maybe it's true, I mean you really have to talk to him. Mr. Bowman, why don't you tell me I--" "He came here to protect me for Homer Gammazzi, Deputy, and now something else is going on, and if you don't give me his number immediately—" "Oh, my God!" exclaimed Rijwick.Tad vaguely heard a thud, and he could imagine Rijwick's feet coming off the table and sitting up straight in his chair. "Beaumont, not Bowman!" "Yes, and—" "Oh my God! My God! The sheriff said if you call I should pass it on to him immediately!" "Fine. Now—" "My God! I'm a bloody fool!" Ted was so agreeable, he said, "Give me his home number, please." He tried his best not to yell. "Of course, please wait, ah..." There was a suffocating pause, only a few seconds, but Ted felt that the pyramids could be built during this pause, and they could be built and then taken down.Meanwhile, Miriam may be dying slowly on the carpet of her apartment five hundred kilometers away.I killed her, he thought, just because I met such an idiot when I decided to call Pombo, I should have called the NYPD first, or called 911.You should call 911 and let them deal with it. It's just that that choice doesn't seem realistic now, and he thinks he did it because of the trance and the words he wrote in the trance.He didn't think he had foreseen the attack on Miriam...but he had vaguely seen Stark's preparations for it.The ghostly calls of those thousands of birds seemed to make him responsible for the whole odd affair. But if Miriam died just because he was too panicked to call 911, how could he have the face to say goodbye to Rick? How the hell did he have the face to face himself in the mirror again? Here comes Jewick, that idiot, and he gave Sheriff Ted's home phone number, digit by digit, slow enough for an idiot to remember... But Ted made him repeat it again, although he Desperate to hurry up.He was shocked by the misremembering the phone number of the sheriff's office just now, and he was afraid of making the same mistake again. "Okay," he said, "thank you." "Mr. Beaumont? I appreciate you, and if you don't mention me to the Sheriff how—" Ted hung up the phone without regret and started calling the number Rijwick had given him.Of course, Pang Bo might not be there, and the person who answered the phone might say that the sheriff just went out to dinner, and that would be a bad coincidence. He laughed like crazy, and Liz looked at him in surprise: "Ted? Are you okay?" Just as he was about to answer, the phone was connected, and he waved at her.He guessed right, it wasn't Pangbo, it was a little boy, he sounded about ten years old. "Hi, Pumpbles," said the kid shrilly, "I'm Todd Pumpble." "Hello," Tad said, vaguely aware that he was gripping the microphone too tightly, and tried to loosen his fingers, the joints crackling, but not really loosening. "My name is Ted—" he almost went on to say Pangbourne, and then changed his words quickly "—Beaumont, is the Sheriff there?" "No, he's gone to Lodi, California, for beer and cigarettes." Instead, the boy's voice moved away from the microphone and screamed, "Dad! Phone!" followed by a crash that nearly hurt Tad's ears. After a while, thank God, came the voice of Alan Pangbol: "Hello?" At the sound, Ted's nervousness vanished. "I'm Ted Beaumont, Sheriff Pombo. There's a lady in New York who needs help right now, and she's got something to do with what we were talking about Saturday night." "Go ahead." Pangbol said succinctly, and Ted felt a burst of relief. He felt that everything was normal. "That lady is Miriam Cowley, my agent's ex-wife." Ted almost referred to Miriam as "my ex-wife's agent." "She called here, screaming like crazy. I didn't even recognize who she was at first, then I heard a man's voice in the background asking her to tell me who she was and what happened She said there was a man in her apartment and he was threatening to hurt her, to..." Ted swallowed, "...to cut her. I heard her voice, but the man was yelling at her, saying If she doesn't say who she is, he cuts off her head, in his exact words: 'Do as I say or I'll cut off your head'. Then she said she was Miriam, pleading I..." He swallowed again, there seemed to be something stuck in his throat, "She begged me not to let the bad guys do that, stop cutting her." Opposite him, Liz became paler and paler.Please don't make her faint, Tad secretly hoped or prayed, please don't let her faint now. "She was screaming and that's when the phone line cut. I think he cut it or pulled him out of the wall." That's bullshit, he didn't think of anything, he knew for sure, the phone line was cut , with a pocket razor. "I tried to contact her again, but—" "Her address?" Pang Bo's voice was still very refreshing, relaxed, and calm. Except for a tone of urgent command, he seemed to be chatting with an old friend.I was right to call him, Tad thought, thank God someone knows what they're doing, or at least believes they do.Thank God there are people who act like characters in pulp fiction.If we had to deal with Saul Bellow's characters, I'm sure I'd be mad. Ted looked down at Miriam's name in Liz's address book: "Honey, is it three or eight?" "Eight." Her voice was indifferent. "Okay. Sit back in the chair and put your head on your lap." "Mr. Beaumont? Tad?" "Sorry, my wife is upset and looks like she's going to pass out." "I'm not surprised, you must both be upset, it's sad, but you did a good job. Keep calm, Ted." "Okay." He realized with astonishment that if Liz fainted, he would put her on the ground and continue talking to Pangbol until he had enough information to act.Please don't faint, he thought, looking down at Liz's address book again. "Her address is 109 West Eighty-fourth Street." "telephone number?" "I told you—her phone doesn't—" "I still need the number, Ted." "Yes, of course you do." Although he had no idea why. "Sorry." He said the phone number. "How long ago was this call made?" A few hours ago, he wanted to say, then looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, and his first thought was that it had stopped, it must have stopped. "Ted?" "Here I am," he said in a calm voice that seemed to come from elsewhere, "at most six minutes ago, when I lost contact with her, was cut off." "Well, not much time is lost. If you call the NYPD, they'll make you triple the time, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible, Ted." "Rick's her ex-husband," he said, "and when you talk to the police, tell them her ex-husband, Rick, doesn't know about it. If that guy... did something to Miriam, you know, Then it's Rick's turn." "Are you sure this is the same guy who killed Homer and Clausen?" "I'm sure it is." Then he blurted out, "I think I know who it is." Pang Bo paused, then said, "Okay, stay by the phone, I'll talk to you about it as soon as I have time." He hung up the phone. Ted looked across to Liz, and saw her reclining on a chair with big and dull eyes.He stood up and ran over, straightened her up, and patted her cheek lightly. "Which one is it?" she asked vaguely. "Stark or Alex Massin? Which one, Tad?" After a long time he said, "I don't know the difference between the two. I'll make some tea, Liz." three He was sure they would talk about it, how could they avoid it?But they don't.For a long time, they just sat there, looking at each other over their glasses, waiting for Pangbo to call back.For a few long minutes, Thad decided they wouldn't talk--not until Pombo called back to tell them whether Miriam was dead or alive. He watched her drink tea from the cup in both hands, and he thought to himself as he drank it, suppose we were sitting here at night, with books in our hands, and a shooting star smashed through the roof and fell, smoking and flashing. The light fell on the living room floor.After one of us goes into the kitchen, grabs a bucket of water, and puts it out before it burns the carpet, are we going to keep reading?No -- we'll talk about it, we have to, like we have to talk about this. Maybe they'd start after Pombo called back, maybe they'd even talk through Pombo, with Pombo asking questions, Ted answering, and Liz listening.Yeah—maybe they'd start that way, because Ted thought Pangbo was like a catalyst.It seemed to Thad that Pangbol was the one who started it, even though the sheriff was merely reacting to Stark's behaviour. During this time, they sat and waited. He had the urge to try Miriam's number again, but he didn't dare—Pangbourne might have called back just then, only to find that the Beaumont line was busy.He found himself wishing, aimlessly, that they had a second phone line.Well, he thought, part hope and part effort. Reason told him that it was impossible for Stark to kill people everywhere like a strange cancerous tumor in the human body, which was completely impossible. But he did, and Ted knew it, and so did Liz.He didn't know if he would understand after he told Pang Bo.Ted doesn't think Pangpo will, and Pangpo might call a psychiatrist, because George Stark isn't real, and neither is Alex Marcin, he's a figment within a figment, none of them ever existed, just Like George Eliot or Mark Twain, Lewis Carroll, Tucker Cow, Edgar Boxes, etc., a pseudonym is just a higher form of a fictional character. But Ted still thought Alan Pump would believe it, even if he didn't want to believe it at first.Ted himself doesn't want to, but finds himself with no choice, so to speak it forces you to believe it's true. "Why didn't he call back?" Liz asked uneasily. "It's only been five minutes, honey." "It's almost ten minutes." He refrained from yelling at her—this wasn't a bonus point contest on the TV show, and Pangbo didn't get extra points and valuable prizes for calling back before nine. In his heart he still insisted that there was no Stark.The voice was reasonable, but strangely weak, as if it was in mechanical memory rather than real conviction, like a parrot learning its tongue.But it's true, isn't it?Was he supposed to believe that Stark had returned from the grave, like a monster in a horror movie?That was a neat trick, because no one—or non-human—was buried there, and his tombstone was just papier mache on the surface of an empty cemetery, as fictional as the rest of his— "Anyway, that brings me to the last question...or aspect...or whatever you want to call it...what's your shoe size, Mr. Beaumont?" Ted has been huddled in his chair, trying to doze off.Now he sat up suddenly, nearly knocking over his teacup.Footprints, Pangbol said about— "What are these footprints? It doesn't matter.We don't even have photos.We put everything on the table..." "Ted? What's the matter?" Liz asked. What footprints?Where?Of course, in Castle Rock, otherwise Pangbo wouldn't know.They might be in the "hometown cemetery," where he and Liz amused himself and Liz by taking pictures of them with a nervous female photographer, was that there? "Not a very cute guy," he whispered. "Ted?" Then the phone rang and they both knocked over their teacups. Four Tad's hand reaches for the phone...and pauses for a moment, just floating over it. "What if it was him? I can't stop talking to you, Ted.You don't want to get rid of me, because when you get rid of me, you get rid of the best. " He reached down, approached the phone, and brought it to his ear: "Hello?" "Ted?" It was Alan Pangble's voice, and Ted suddenly felt weak all over, as if his body was bound by wire, and now the wire was suddenly pulled away. "Yes," he said, hissing like a sigh.He took another breath. "Is Miriam all right?" "I don't know," Pangble said, "I gave the NYPD her address. We'll find out soon enough, though I want the police to tell you that fifteen minutes or half an hour tonight isn't going to be good for you or your wife." It's fast." "No, it doesn't count." "Is she all right?" Liz asked, and Ted covered the receiver and told her that Pangbol didn't know yet.Liz nodded and sat down, her face still pale, but she looked calmer than before.At least now people are doing things and it's not just the two of them anymore. "They also got Mr. Cowley's address from the telephone company—" "Hey! They don't—" "Ted, they're not going to do anything until they know what's going on with Cowley's ex-wife. I told them there's a psychopath chasing a person or people mentioned in the Popular magazine article, which It was about the Stark pseudonym and I explained the relationship between the Cowleys and you. I hope I got it right. I don't know the writers well, let alone their agents, but the police understand that if the lady's The ex-husband gets there before them and things go wrong." "Thank you, thank you for everything, Pangbo." "Ted, the NYPD is too busy asking for further explanations right now, but they will, and so am I. Who do you think this guy is?" "That's something I don't want to tell you on the phone. I'd love to go to your place, Pangbo, but I don't want to leave my wife and kids right now, and I think you can understand that you have to come here." "I can't," said Pangbol patiently, "I have my own job and—" "Your wife is sick, Pangpo?" "She seemed fine tonight, but one of my lieutenants called and said he was sick and I had to cover him, which is standard procedure in small towns, and I was getting ready to go to work. What I'm saying is, you're running around in circles at this point It's very inappropriate, Tad, tell me quickly." Ted thought about it, and he was sure Pangbo would believe him when he heard it, but Ted didn't want to tell him over the phone. "Can you come here tomorrow?" "We'll definitely meet tomorrow," said Pangbo, his voice calm and stubborn. "But I need everything you know tonight. New York's need for an explanation is secondary. I have my own business. There are many people in this town who want to catch the murderer of Homer Gamazi quickly. I Happened to be one of those so don't make me ask you again. It's late, but I can call Pancourt in District Court to have you arrested as a witness in the Fort Rock murder. He's got it from the State Police Knowing that you are a suspect, with or without alibi." "Would you do that?" Ted asked, confused and interested. "If you push me, I will, but I don't think you will." Tad's mind was a little clearer now, his mind actually seemed to be wandering elsewhere.It doesn't really matter to Pangble or the NYPD whether they're looking for a psychopath who thinks he's Stark or Stark himself, right?He didn't think so, and he didn't think they could catch him. "I'm sure he's a psychopath, as my wife says," he finally told Pangbo.He met Liz's eyes and tried to send her a message, and he succeeded because she nodded slightly. "It created a really weird feeling, do you remember the footprints you mentioned to me?" "Remember." "They're in the hometown cemetery, aren't they?" Liz's eyes widened. "How do you know?" Pang Bo sounded surprised for the first time, "I didn't tell you." "Did you read that article? The one in Popular?" "Read." "That's where the woman erected the fake tombstone, and that's where George Stark is buried." There was silence on the other end of the phone for a while, and then Pang Bo said, "Nonsense." "Do you understand it?" "I think I get it," said Pombo, "if this guy thinks he's Stark, if he's crazy, then it makes sense for him to start with Stark's grave, doesn't he? Is the photographer in New York ?” Ted was taken aback: "Yes." "Then she might be in danger too?" "Yeah, I... well, I never thought about it, but I guess she might be in danger." "Name? Address?" "I don't have her address." She had given him her business card, probably to collaborate on a book with him, but he threw it away, and he could only give Pangbo her name," Phyllis May Ernes." "And the guy who wrote the article?" "Mike Donaldson." "Also in New York?" 泰德突然意识到他并没有确信真是那么回事，他向后撤了一点儿：“哎，我猜我只是假设他们俩是——” “这是个很合理的假设。如果杂志的办公室在纽约，他们关系会比较密切，是吗？” “也许，但如果他们是自由撰稿人的话——” “让我们回到这张恶作剧照片。无论照片的文字说明还是报道本身都没有明说是家乡公墓，我对此确信不疑。我应该能从背景上认出它，但我关注的是细节。” “对。”泰德说。 “镇长丹·凯顿坚持不要明说是家乡公墓——这是严格的先决条件。他是那种非常谨慎的人，实际上谨慎得有点儿让人讨厌。我可以理解他允许拍照，但我认为他决不会允许明说是哪个公墓，因为害怕引起破坏行为……人们也许会去寻找那块墓碑或做出诸如此类的举动。” 泰德点点头，这很有意思。 “所以，你的心理变态者要么认识你，要么来自这里。”庞波继续道。 泰德曾做过一个假定，他现在为此感到羞愧，他曾认为一个树比人多的小镇的警长应该是个笨蛋，这个人不是笨蛋，他显然比世界著名的小说家泰德·波蒙特优秀。 “我们至少现在必须这么假设，因为他似乎有内幕消息。” “那么你提到的脚印是在家乡公墓。” “是的，”庞波几乎心不在焉地说，“你还满着什么，泰德？” “你这话是什么意思？”他警觉地问。 “我们别绕弯子，好吗？我必须给纽约打电话，告诉他们这些名字，你必须认真想一下，看看还有没有别的名字要告诉我的。出版社……编辑……我不知道。现在，你告诉我，我们要抓的那个家伙实际上认为他就是乔治·斯达克。星期六晚上我们做过这个假设，认为它是不可能的，今天晚上你却告诉我它是确凿无疑的事实。为了证明它，你向我提出脚印问题。要么这是你从我们共有的事实中做出的大胆的推测，要么你知道一些我不知道的事，当然，我更喜欢第二种选择，所以，告诉我你的理由。” 但他有什么理由呢？以几千只麻雀的叫声为先兆的恍惚状态？庞波告诉他克劳森寓所客厅墙上所写的字之后他在稿子上所写的同样的字？在一张后来被撕掉焚化的纸上所写的字？一个梦，其中他被一个可怕的看不见的人领着穿过他在罗克堡的房子，他所触摸的一切包括他的妻子都自我毁灭？我可以称之为心里的事实而不是心灵的直觉，但仍然没有证据，不是吗？指纹和唾液暗示了非常古怪的事——但真那么怪吗？ 泰德不这么认为。 “庞波，”他慢慢说道，“你会嘲笑我的。不——我收回这句话，我现在知道你不会的。你不会嘲笑我的——但我也非常怀疑你是否会相信我。我反复考虑过，但结果是：我真的认为你不会相信我。” 庞波的声音马上传过来，这声音急迫、威严、难以抗挡。 "Try it." 泰德忧郁了一下，看看丽兹，然后摇摇头：“明天吧，当我们能面对面的时候，那时我会说的。今天晚上你相信我的话，它无关紧要，我所告诉你的就是我能告诉你的所有有价值的东西。” “泰德，我说过以目击证人拒捕你——” “如果你必须这么做，那就做吧，我不在乎。但在我见到你之前，我不会再说什么了，不管你做出什么决定。” 庞波沉默片刻，然后叹了口气：“好吧。” “我要向你描述一下警察正在寻找的那个人。我不敢说它准确无误，但我相信它比较准确，准确到可以告诉警察。你有笔吗？” “有，说吧。” 泰德闭上上帝安在他脸上的眼睛，睁开上帝安装在他大脑里的眼睛，这眼睛总是能看到他不愿看的东西。读过他的小说的人第一次遇见他时，总是很失望，他们总是竭力隐瞒这一点却又做不到。他并不讨厌他们，因为他理解他们的感觉——至少理解一点儿。如果他们喜欢他的作品（有人甚至声称热爱它），他们就会事先把他想象成半个上帝。相反，他们实际看到的是一个六英尺一英寸高的家伙，戴着眼镜，开始脱发，很容易绊倒。他们一个头皮屑很多、鼻子上有两个鼻孔的男人，和他们自己完全一样。 他们看不到的是他脑中的第三只眼睛，那个眼睛在他黑暗的另一半中闪闪发光……它像上帝一样，他很高兴他们看不到它。……如果他们能看到，他想他们中的许多人会试图偷走它。是的，即使这意味着用一把钝刀子从他的肉体中把它挖出来。 凝视着黑暗，他招来他自己的乔治·斯达克形象——真的乔治·斯达克，和为书封底摆姿态的模特毫不相同。他寻找在那里潜伏了数年之久的影子，找到他，开始向阿兰·庞波展示。 “他很高，”他开始说，“至少比我高，六尺三，穿鞋时也许六尺四，头发是金色的，剃得很短，很整齐。蓝眼睛，他的远视力很好。大约五年前，他开始戴眼睛做细活，主要是读书和写作。 “他引人注目的不是高度而是宽度。他并不胖，但他非常宽，肩宽十八点五寸，也许十九寸。年龄和我一般大，庞波，但他不像我这样显老或发胖。他很强壮，看上去像施瓦辛格。他练习举重，鼓起二头肌，可以蹦断他衬衫袖上的缝线，但他不是死肌肉。 “他出生于新罕不什尔，但他父母离婚后，他随他母亲移居密西西比州的牛津，她是在那儿长大的。他一生大部分时间都是在那儿度过的。他年轻时，有很重的南方口音，在学院里很多人拿他的口音开心——虽然不是当着他的面，你不会当着这种家伙的面开玩笑的——他费了很大劲克服这口音。现在，我想只有在他生气时你才能听到这种口音，而让他生气的人我想很少能再找到来作证的。他很容易发火，很狂暴，很危险。确切地说，他是个严重的精神病患者。” “什么——”庞波开口，但泰德不理他。 “他晒得很黑，一般金发男人不会晒得那么黑，所以这一点很好认。大脚，大手，长脖，宽肩。他的脸看上去像一个有才华的人匆匆忙忙从一块坚硬的岩石上凿出来的一样。 “最后一件事：他可能开一辆黑色的托罗纳多车，我不知道是哪一年造的，不过是老式的马力很大的那种，黑色的，密西西比牌照，但他可能已换样了。”他停顿了一下，又补充道，“在后保险杠上有一张粘贴纸。上面写着'高贵的狗杂种'。” He opened his eyes. 丽兹正凝视着他，脸色比以前更苍白了。 电话另一头沉默了很长时间。 “庞波？你——” “等一下，我在写。”又是一阵更短暂的停顿。“好啦，”庞波最后说，“我记下了。你告诉了我一切，除了这家伙是谁，你和他的关系，以及你怎么认识他的，你能告诉我这些吗？” “我不知道，但我会试试，明天吧。今天晚上知道他的名字没有任何用，因为他用另一个名字。” “乔治·斯达克。” “哎，他可能疯狂到称自己为阿历克斯·马辛，但我怀疑这一点。我想他会自称斯达克，对。”他试着对丽兹眨眼，虽然他不认为眨眨眼就能改变气氛，但他无论如何要试试，他看上去像个猫头鹰闪动双眼。 “今天晚上我没办法说服你再多说一点儿，是吗？” “没有，没有办法，我很抱歉，但没有办法。” “好吧。我会尽快跟你联系。”他就这么挂了，没说谢谢，没说再见。仔细想想，泰德认为自己并不要庞波说谢谢他。 他挂上电话，走向妻子，她坐在那儿像一座塑像一样看着他。他拉住她的手——它们很冰凉——说：“一切都会好的，丽兹。我发誓会好的。” “明天你跟他谈时，你会告诉他那种恍惚状态吗？鸟叫声？你在一个孩子时怎么听到它，当时它意味着什么？你所写的东西？” “我会告诉他一切，”泰德说，“他选择什么告诉别的有关部门……”他耸耸肩，“那是他的事。” “你知道的这么多，”她无力地低声说，眼睛仍然盯着他——好象每力气离开他，“你对他知道得这么多。泰德……怎么知道的？” 他只能跪在她面前，握着她冰凉的手。他怎么能知道得这么多呢？人们一直这么问他。他们用不同的话问他这个问题——你怎么虚构出来的？你怎么写成的？你怎么能记住？你怎么看到的——但总是回到同一件事：你怎么知道的？ 他不知道他怎么知道的。 他只是知道。 “你知道的这么多，”她重复说，就像一个在做恶梦的人在说话，然后他们俩都沉默不语。他期待着双胞胎感受到他们的父母的难过，醒过来哭叫，但却只能听到钟单调的滴答声。他移动了一下，换了一个更舒服的姿势，仍然握着她的手，希望能让它们暖和起来。十五分钟后，电话响的时候，它们仍然冰凉。 Fives 阿兰·庞波的声音低沉平实。里克·考利在他的公寓中很安全，在警察的保护之下，他马上要去看他的前妻，她现在将永远是他的前妻了，他们俩经常谈到并渴望复婚，现在永远不可能了，米丽艾姆死了，里克将去正式认尸。今晚泰德别指望里克会给他打电话，他自己也别试着打过去；泰德与米丽艾姆·考利谋杀的关系没有告诉里克，因为里克的“不稳定状态”。菲里斯·迈尔斯已找到，并处于警察保护之下。米切尔唐纳森很难找，但他们指望半夜前能找到他，并将他保护起来。 “她怎么被杀的？”泰德问，其实他完全知道答案，但有时你不得不问，天知道为什么。 “喉咙被割断拉，”庞波故意粗鲁的说，他又追问一句，“你仍然没什么要告诉我的？” “早晨，当我们能看见对方时。” “好吧。我想问问总没关系。” “对，没关系。” “纽约警察已发出通缉令，通缉一个叫乔治·斯达克的人，按你所描述的。” “很好。”他认为很好，虽然他知道这是无意义的。如果乔治·斯达克不想被发现，他们肯定发现不了他，如果谁碰巧发现了他，泰德认为这人会为此而感到遗憾。 “九点，”庞波说，“你一定要在家呆着，泰德。” “放心吧，一定在。” six 丽兹吃了一片安眠药，终于睡着了。泰德打了一会儿盹，时不时醒来。三点十五，他起床去浴室。当他站着撒尿时，以为听到麻雀声了，紧张地倾听着，马上不尿了。声音既不增大也不减小。过了一会儿，他才意识到那只是蟋蟀的声音。 他向窗外望去，看到一辆州警察巡逻车停在路对面，关着灯，没一点儿声音。如果他没看有到香烟头一闪一闪的，会以为里面没有人呢。看来他、丽兹和双胞胎也在警察保护之下。 或警察的守卫之中，他想，回到床上。 不管是什么，这似乎让他心里静了点儿。他睡着了，八点醒来，不记得做过恶梦。不过真的恶梦当然还在那儿，在某个地方。