Chapter 10 Chapter 6 The Temple of the Bull 1

1 Before going to bed on Thursday night, Rosie plugged the brand new phone back into the socket and called Anna.She wanted to know from Anna if there was any news, if anyone had seen Norman in town.Anna answered in the negative, saying that everything was peaceful, quoting the old saying, "No news is good news." Rosie was suspicious, but she didn't show it.She didn't know the etiquette to follow other than to express condolences to Anna for her ex-husband. "Thank you, Rosie," Anna said. "Peter is a difficult eccentric, and although he is open and honest, he is not very lovable."

"he treats me well." "It was so true to his nature. He was a benefactor to strangers and moody to family and friends. At one Thanksgiving dinner he threw a turkey on his brother's head. I can't remember The reason is clear, it seems to be for something irrelevant like the PLO." Anna let out a long sigh. "I want to have a commemorative event for him on Saturday afternoon, where everyone sits in a circle on folding chairs, like an AA party, and chats about him together. At least that's what I plan to do." "That's a good idea." "Do you really think so?" Anna asked.Unconsciously, she raised her eyebrows haughtily, "Am I a little silly in thinking that? Anyway, I'm going to make the picnic as long as possible to allow enough time for the activity. There is no reason for this tragic event." Questions leave us with regrets, abused sisters have lost a friend after all."

"If Norman did it—" "It's about to come out," Anna said. "I've been working with women who have been hurt physically and mentally for many years. I know that some of them have developed to a serious degree of masochism. Many of them have suffered from long-term abuse. Persecution, schizophrenia and depressive syndrome. Do you remember the Challenger space shuttle explosion?" "Remember..." Rosie said bewilderedly, she still remembered the tragedy. "That night, a woman came to me with tears in her face. She kept slapping herself, twisting and pinching herself, and her cheeks and arms were covered with red spots. She said that all the astronauts, It was her fault, including that kind female teacher. I asked her why she said this, and she explained that she had written two letters expressing support for the space shuttle manned flight program, one One was sent to the Chicago Tribune, and the other was sent to the local congressman."

"Women victims are often condemned by people, that's what it is. In fact, there are many such cases." Rosie thought of Bill.He put his arm around her waist that day, and they walked together on the path by the lake until they reached the Cohen Building. He told her, don't think it's your fault, you didn't invent Norman. "For a long time, I couldn't understand their mental syndrome," Anna said, "but now I fully understand. Someone should be blamed, otherwise all the pain, depression and loneliness will be meaningless. That's when people will go crazy. Better to be condemned by people than to be crazy. Now is your time to make a choice."

"I don't understand you." "No, you understand." After Anna finished speaking calmly, they changed the subject. 2 Twenty minutes after I said goodnight to Anna, Rosie was already in bed.Her eyes were wide open, her fingers were folded under the pillow, and faces floated before her eyes like balloons with broken strings in the dark night sky.Rabbi Lefferts handed her a piece of prison letter paper, on which was written "Out of Prison, To Freedom"; Rhoda Simon inserted a pencil into her hair and told her that it should be nylon stockings , instead of nylon long hair; Gott Kenshaw in oversized sweatpants and men's V-neck underwear; passionate punk rocker Cynthia (Rosie can't remember her last name) put her hair down Dyed two colors, told her that she had sat by an oil painting for hours, looking at the flowing rivers in the painting.

Of course, she also dreamed of Bill.She saw his brown eyes against a light green background, his flowing black hair, and even the small round scar on his right earlobe where the pierced ear and eye had healed (it must have been caused by a drunken out-of-control state in college). pierced by people) can also be seen clearly.She could feel the warm palm and strong fingers on her waist, and she wondered if he would get agitated when their bodies touched occasionally.She admits she was thrilled by the physical casual encounter.He was so different from Norman, so otherworldly, that to her he was an alien visitor.

She closed her eyes and fell into a deeper dream. Another face came to mind, that of Norman.He was smiling, but those gray eyes were chilling.I'm trolling you, baby, Norman said.The day of sleeping in my own bed is not far away, and I'm dragging you ashore.I'll be talking to you soon, close to each other.The conversation was short, and when it ended— He raised his pencil-holding hand.It was a No. 2 Mongolian pencil with a tip as sharp as a blade. This time I'm not interested in your arms and shoulders, I'm going straight to your eyes, or your tongue.Baby, what would that feel like?A pencil pierces your chattering tongue—

She opened her eyes, and Norman's face disappeared instantly.She closed her eyes again and called to Bill's face.At first she thought Norman would still show up, but she was wrong. She thought, I have a date on Saturday.The two of us are going to spend the whole day together.If he wants to kiss me, I will say yes, whether he hugs me, touches me, I will say yes.I would love to be with him.I am so silly. She began to levitate again.She thought she must have been dreaming of the picnic she and Bill were going to have together the day after tomorrow.Someone was picnicking near them, and that person must have brought a baby, because she heard the baby crying weakly.Suddenly——rumbling, there was a deafening thunder.

What happened here, she thought, was exactly like what happened to my oil painting.I'm going to tell him about the paintings at the picnic.I forgot about it today because so many things happened.but…… There was another burst of lightning and thunder.This time it seemed to be coming more fiercely, and it was closer to Rossi.She was completely shocked.Heavy rain would ruin their date, ruin the Sisters' summer picnic at Erdinger Quay, and eventually cancel the concert. Don't worry, Rosie, the earth-shattering lightning and thunder just happened in the oil painting, it's all just a dream.

But if it was a dream, why could I still feel my waist and my arms under the pillow?Why can I still feel my hands clasped together and my body covered with a thin blanket?Also, why can I still hear the sound of cars coming from outside the window? The crickets were still chirping annoyingly: chirp-chirp-chirp. The baby's crying continued. Her eyelids were suddenly turned purple by a blinding flash of lightning, followed by a rumbling thunder, and the storm was getting closer. Rossi suddenly sat up from the bed in shock, her heart was still beating.She was almost out of breath, but she found that there was no lightning or thunder here.She still seemed to hear the crickets singing.If so, her ears must be playing tricks on her.She glanced around the room, and the rectangular object on the wall was an oil painting called Rose Maid.Tomorrow she will take it off, put it in the basket, and take it to work.Rhoda and Lite probably knew of places nearby where frames could be made to order, and she needed to have one re-ordered.

She could still hear the faint chirping of crickets. This, she thought, was the sound in the park.She lay down again. If this is really the sound of the park, can it be heard in the room with the windows closed?Reason was asking her.Its voice was filled with suspicion, but there was no anger in its tone.Are you sure of that, Rosie? Of course she was sure.Summer is approaching, and the crickets are everywhere, and their song can be heard all over the world.Well, even if this oil painting is a bit weird, there is a bigger possibility, that is, she has weird thoughts in her own mind. Do you think there is no danger in this matter?Now there was an anxious voice in the tone of reason.Be it bad luck or disaster, whatever you call it, can you say that there is no danger around you? No, she couldn't think so.Danger is everywhere.Just think of Anna Stevenson's ex-husband and it becomes immediately clear. She didn't want to know what happened to Peter Slowik, she didn't want to feel guilty for him.All she wanted was to speculate about Saturday's date.She imagined: what would happen if Bill Steiner kissed her?Will he put his hands on her shoulders or wrap them around her waist?What does it feel like when his lips touch hers?Will he... Rossi's thoughts drifted away.The thunder was still roaring, and the crickets were singing louder, and Rosie didn't notice that one of them had jumped from the floor onto the bed.At this time, the rope connecting her mind and body was completely severed, and she drifted farther and farther in the darkness. 3 A bolt of lightning woke her up, not this time a deep purple bolt, but a brilliant, blinding streak of white light.The subsequent thunderbolt was not just a rumbling sound as before, but turned into a burst of angry howls. Rosie woke up from the bed with a start. She sat up, gasping for breath, and pulled the thin blanket up to her neck.There was another flash of lightning, and she saw the small dining table, the kitchen counter, and the small and exquisite sofa by the light.The door to the bathroom was open, and the chrysanthemum patterned shower curtain was drawn together.Since her eyes were not at all prepared for the bright lightning, when the room returned to darkness, her vision was still stuck in the scene just now, but it was miraculously found that the colors of all the scenes were reversed.She realized that she could still hear the baby crying, but the cricket had stopped singing.The wind was howling, and she not only heard it, but also felt it, ruffling the hair on her forehead, and she heard a series of sounds of paper being blown by the wind, followed by a bang, and the stack of papers finally fell heavily fell to the ground.She had left a copy of lines from the next recording, a Richard Lessing novel, on the dinner table, and it must have been blown to the floor, cascading everywhere. This is not a dream, she thought as she put her legs under the bed.She looked out of the window, and immediately held her breath in surprise: both windows were gone, or rather, what used to be a wall was now completely a window, and it was open. Not only that, but the view from this open window was no longer of Ivy Avenue or Bryant Park.Rossi saw a blonde woman in a rose red sleeveless tunic standing on the top of a lush green hill, looking at the ruins of an ancient Greek temple at the foot of the hill. And the slender legs danced with the wind; Rosie also saw that the woman, like her, had a bunch of blond hair loosened from the braid on her forehead, which was like a fringe of plankton in the strong wind, entwining the hair Classical French braids flow incessantly.At this moment, a deep purple lightning split the sky, and she saw in the blinding light that a shaggy foal was gnawing on the grass, and its head was moving as it grazing. Swinging together and falling. If the wall is really a window, the window is open.While Rosie was watching carefully, she suddenly saw that the foal's nose had protruded into the room.It sniffed the floor, found nothing of interest, then backed off and resumed its gnawing of grass on its own property. Followed by more lightning, mixed with the sound of rolling thunder, the wind began to howl again.Rosie heard the scattered pages spinning rapidly on the kitchen balcony.She stood up, let her pajamas slap her legs, and walked lightly towards the oil painting. Now the painting has occupied an entire wall, connecting from the floor to the ceiling, and extending from the left corner to the right corner.The loose strand of hair on her forehead was blown back and forth by the wind, and she clearly smelled the sweet smell of rain that was approaching. It won't be long, she thought.I will be drenched in the rain, as will both of us. Rose, what are you thinking?Reason was screaming at her.In the name of God, what are you doing— Rosie suppressed the voice. She had heard it all her life and had had enough.She was facing a wall that was no longer a wall; not five feet away from her stood the blond woman in a vintage rose-red tunic, though she did not turn her head. Turning around, Rosie could still see: as she stared down the mountain, her raised left hand was constantly tilting and adjusting the angle; Rosie also saw that her shining left breast was following the movement again and again. The breath kept rising and falling. Rossi took a deep breath and stepped into the frame. 4 The world in the picture is at least ten degrees lower than the outside, and the knee-deep weeds are playing with her ankles and calves.Suddenly she heard the baby's weak cry again, and then it disappeared again.She looked back, hoping to see her room, but it was gone.At the spot where she had entered was a gnarled oak tree with roots and branches stretching out in all directions.There is an easel under the oak tree, and on the high stool in front of the easel, there is a paint box full of various brushes and paints. Clamped to the easel was a canvas the same size as the canvas Rosie had bought at the rental store in Liberty City.She was taken aback. She saw on the screen her own room on Ivy Avenue, and she could only see it from the window facing the street: there was a woman in the room, it was Rosie herself, and she faced Standing in the middle of the room facing the gate, her posture and position are not exactly the same as the blonde woman looking at the ruins of the temple at the foot of the mountain, for example, she did not raise her left arm; but the distance between them is so close Rosie felt as if she was walking on her feet; the next thing she looked at, the painting was even more frightening in other ways: the woman was wearing a pair of dark blue tapered slacks and a pink sleeveless top. The clothes were what Rosie was planning to wear on a motorcycle outing with Bill.I'll have to wear something else, she thought, as if she could change everything by changing the outfit. Something touched Rosie's arm, and she squeaked and turned away, surprised to see a foal looking at her with apologetic brown eyes.Thunder roared overhead. The shaggy foal was harnessed to a handsome buggy, with a lady standing beside it.She wore a handcrafted, multi-layered dress of almost sheer red tulle that reached to her feet, through which Rosie could peek out her warm, café-au-lait skin.Lightning lit up the sky, and what Rosie saw was exactly what she'd spotted on a painting the day she'd come home from Papa's with Bill.She saw a buggy and the figure of a woman on the grass in the frame. "Don't worry," said the woman in the red pleated skirt, "you don't have to be afraid, the foal won't bite anything but grass and clover flowers. It just sniffed you out of curiosity. No Something will happen." Rosie felt a sudden sense of relief when she realized it was the "lazy fat woman," as Norman called it.She was Wendy Yarrow; but since Wendy Yarrow was dead, it was a dream.No matter how real it feels, no matter how reliable the details (for example, she wipes a drop of dew from the pony's mouth from her arm), it is still a dream. Of course it was a dream, she said to herself.Rosie, no one was able to step into the picture. This explanation had no effect on her, but the idea that the woman tending the carriage was the long-dead Wendy Yarlow did. The wind was howling, and Rosie heard the baby cry again.She saw something else now: a large flower basket woven from a green film sample on the buggy behind the foal.The handle of the flower basket is decorated with a bunch of ribbons, and there is a bowknot woven with real silk at the top of the ribbons. "Rosie." A deep, sweet-sounding, slightly hoarse voice spoke to her.Rossi felt dizzy when she heard it, and goose bumps appeared on her back.There must be something wrong here.She felt that this woman's voice, which only she could hear, would make any man who heard it forget everything but sex.But things went awry, terribly wrong. "Rosie." The voice spoke to her again, and she suddenly understood: it seemed to be trying to imitate a human voice, and trying to remember how to make a human voice. "Girl, please don't stare at her like that," said the woman in the red pleated skirt, who seemed anxious. "She's different from you." "You're mistaken, I don't want to see her at all," said Rosie, "I just want to go home." "I don't blame you, but it's too late," said the woman with the stern dark eyes and determined mouth, stroking the foal's neck. "Don't touch her, she doesn't want to hurt you. She just can't control herself very well." She tapped her temple with one finger. Rosie reluctantly took a step closer to "Rose Maddow" in the rose red skirt.She was fascinated by the texture on her back, on her shoulders and under her neck, her skin finer than washed silk, the curves of her upper neck all the more glamorous... Rosie didn't know what those gray shadows lurking beneath her hairline were, and didn't want to.At first she guessed it was a bite mark, but it didn't look like it.Rosie knew the bite marks weren't supposed to look like this.Is it leprosy?Or some kind of worse contagion? "Rosie," said the sweet, husky voice again.There was something in it that made Rosie want to scream out loud, and Norman's smile made her feel that way. This woman must be crazy.Regardless of the scars on her skin, everything is enough to prove this point, she is crazy. The lightning flickered on and off, constantly emitting dazzling light.Thunder rumbled past.In gusts of wind, the sound of babies crying came from the direction of the ruins of the temple below. "Who are you? Why am I here?" The woman bared her right arm, showing her a white scar under the arm that had become knotted. "This wound used to bleed a lot and got infected," she said to her in that sweet, husky voice. Rossi also stretched out her arm. The difference between the two was that Rossi's wound was on her left hand instead of her right hand, but their scars were exactly the same.Rosie suddenly felt terrible: if she wore a Rose Maid dress, she would show her right shoulder, not her left shoulder; if she had a gold bracelet, she would definitely wear it on her left hand. , instead of the right hand. The woman on top of the mountain is her mirror image. The woman on the top of the mountain is—— "You're me, aren't you?" Rosie called out in a voice trembling with panic as the woman with the old French braid turned slightly, "Don't turn around, I don't want to see you!" "Don't get so excited," said Rose Maid, in a strange tone of patience. "You are the real Rosie, and Rosie is yourself. You can forget everything but the fact. And And please don't forget one thing: I will repay you. I will repay you for everything you have done for me. This is why we came together. It is also reasonable." Lightning tore the sky, thunder shook the earth, and the olive trees were bent over by the wind.Locks of Rose Maddock's golden braids were blowing freely in the wind, looking like strands of gold amidst the terrible thunder and lightning. "Now, please go," said Rose Maid, "get me the baby." 5 The cry of the baby floated from afar, and it seemed that it took a lot of effort to reach here from another world.Rossi looked far away at the ruins of the ancient temple down the hill.Its appearance looks very strange from here, which makes people have a certain unpleasant feeling. It sits crookedly there, adding a sense of fear.Her chest began to tremble now, too, as it had often happened to her after the miscarriage. Rosie was about to say something, but she wasn't sure what to say. She only knew that she wanted to express resistance to Rose Maddow, but before she could open her mouth, a hand grabbed her shoulder.This is "Wendy Yarlow" in the red pleated skirt.She shook her head to warn her not to speak, tapped her temple again, and pointed to the ruins below the mountain. Another hand, as cold as a tombstone, grasped Rosie's right wrist.She turned and realized that the woman in the rose red skirt was now face to face with her.In an instant, Rosie's mind was filled with jellyfish-like chaos of thoughts, and she lowered her eyes so as not to see the other person's face.Then she saw the back of the hand holding her left hand, with a black-gray pustule growing on it, which reminded her of predators swimming in the ocean.The color of the fingernails is dead gray.Suddenly, Rossi clearly saw a small white worm wriggling out from one of the nails. "Go now," said Rose Maid, "do me something I couldn't do myself. Remember, I will repay you." "Okay," Rossi said.A terrible desire to look up and see the woman's face took hold of her tenaciously.Wanted to see what was going on, even if she was going to eat you alive, to see another face of herself in that maddening dead gray shadow.But... "Okay, I'll go. I can try, but don't let me see you." The hand let go of her wrist—little by little, as if it sensed Rosie faltered and rushed to grab her.The hand turned and pointed down the hill with the tip of a dead gray finger. "Keep going," said Rose Maid. Rosie moved slowly down the hill, her eyes still lowered, watching the unevenness of her bare feet.Sliding on the knee-high grass.She didn't look up until the thrilling thunder crackled the sky, and she was surprised to find that the woman in the red pleated skirt also went down the mountain with her. "Are you here to help me?" "I can only go there." The woman in a red pleated skirt pointed to the collapsed stone pillar. "I have everything she has, and she hasn't hurt me so far." She held out one arm, and Rosie saw a mess of pink objects wriggling in the muscles between her wrist and forearm, and she had the same one in the palm of her hand, which was slightly prettier.It reminded Rosie of those shamrocks found in the cracks in the floorboards of the little room.The warm little room she had used as a safe haven was so far away from her now.Maybe those lives are just a dream, and what is happening in front of you is the real reality. "These are the only things I've been able to find, at least for now," she said. "But with them, I can get out of here. The bull will follow my scent. Trying to go after me alone, and it would kill us both." "What bull?" asked Rosie, bewildered and panicked.They were almost at the collapsed stone pillar. "It is Erinnis, god of vengeance, who guards this ancient Greek temple." "What kind of temple is this?" "Don't ask these men questions, you're wasting your time, woman." "What are you talking about? What's a man's problem?" "The questions you already know the answers to. Come with me here." "Wendy Yarrow" stood by a mossy upright, watching Rosie impatiently.The temple loomed not far from them.Rosie looked at the blurred temple as if she were watching a movie with a distorted focus, and her eyesight was severely damaged.In the blink of an eye she found that the shadow of the temple had disappeared again. "Vinlinnis, the god of vengeance, has only one eye, and he cannot see with the other. But he has an amazing sense of smell. Is today your day, girl?" "My... days?" "Your unlucky day!" Rossi shook her head. "Great, if that's the case, we're done before we even started. It's not my day either. I haven't had the kind of blood that only women bleed since I started being sick. What a pity because that's the thing that's most useful to us right now. But—" An earth-shattering thunderbolt struck from the top of the head, the sky was split in two immediately, and cold raindrops had already begun to drip down. "We must hurry up!" the woman in red said to her, "tear off a few pieces of your pajamas, make the longer ones for straps, and the larger ones for bags, wrap a few stones with them, and tie them up with the straps. Stop arguing with me, and don't ask me any questions. Just do as I tell you." Rosie bent down and tore a wide strip from the hem of her pajamas.The pajamas had been torn a slit along the left leg, exposing almost all of Rosie's thigh.Now I must be walking like a waitress in a cheongsam at a Chinese restaurant, she thought, tearing a narrower strip from her pajamas.She looked up and was startled to see "Wendy" holding a wicked double-sided dagger in his hand.Rosie didn't notice where she got it, and wondered if the woman wouldn't hesitate to stab the dagger like the protagonist of Paul Sheldon's tender and poisonous novel. into her thigh. She probably would, Rosie thought.She knew she would long for a dagger herself if the woman named Rose Maid traveled with her.She recalled how the woman in red who was walking with her tapped her own temple with a finger and told Rosie not to touch her. "Wendy Yalo" once said to her: She doesn't want to hurt you, she just can't control herself. The woman in red stood beside the stone pillar that had been split into several sections.Rosie was going to ask her what she was doing with the dagger... then decided not to.This is clearly a "man's question," and a "man's question" is the kind of question that people know how to answer. "Wendy" touched her eyes and looked up at her. "Are you ready, I need a big strip of cloth," she said.Before Rosie could speak, "Wendy" had pierced her skin with the point of the knife, muttered something in a language Rosie could not understand, sounded like she was praying, and moved the dagger along. A beautiful line was cut out on the arm that matched the pleated skirt.The place where the dagger crossed quickly raised a piece, the skin and subcutaneous tissue began to shrink, and a bright red incision was split on the arm. "Oh, it hurts!" the woman groaned, holding out the hand holding the dagger, "Give me a bigger piece of cloth, quick!" Rossi held the dagger in his hand, and his mind was in a mess.Although she panicked, she didn't want to vomit, and the blood didn't make her sick. "Wendy Yalo" folded the cloth a few times, covered the wound, and immediately uncovered it after the blood seeped through the cloth.She obviously didn't want to heal the wound as soon as possible, but to soak the cloth strip with blood.When she put her hand in front of Rosie again, it was still the familiar piece of cloth in her hand, but the color had become very dark.The blue of the strip mixed with the bright red blood and became rose red, the color of Rose Maid's skirt. "Now go find a stone, and wrap it in this cloth," she said to Rosie, "and take off your clothes, and wrap it over the stone." Rosie raised her eyebrows and stared at her with wide eyes, more surprised than seeing her bleeding arm. "No, absolutely not!" she said, "I've got nothing on but this pajamas!" "Wendy Yalow" laughed without a sense of humor. "You really don't want to take it off. Then please pass me another cloth, or I will die from blood loss." Rosie handed her the narrower strip, also torn from the blue pajamas, and the brown woman quickly bandaged the wound on her arm with it.At this time, there appeared beside them a lightning bolt as magnificent as a devil's firework, and Rosie heard a big tree slowly fall, and at the same time made a deafening boom.Immediately afterwards, there was another earth-shattering thunderbolt like an artillery bombardment in the sky, and a strong smell of copper like rusted copper plates immediately exuded in the air.Immediately afterwards, the whole world turned into a huge water bag torn apart by lightning, and it rained heavily.The icy raindrops poured wildly, and the strong wind blew the heavy rain into a horizontal curtain.Rossi saw that the cloth strips used to bandage the wound were quickly wet by the rain, and there was a light pink blood like strawberry beer flowing from the wound along the fingers. Rosie stopped thinking about what she was doing and why. She touched her shoulders, grabbed the back of her pajamas, bent down, and took off the only pajamas over her head, and her whole body was immediately exposed. In the icy rain.The heavy rain hit her cheeks, shoulders, and bare back like needlepoints. She was breathing hard, and her tight skin was covered with goosebumps from her heels to the bottom of her neck. "Ouch!" She felt that she was about to suffocate, and cried out in despair, "Oh! It's too cold!" She put down her pajamas (it was still mostly dry), grabbed the blood-stained cloth with her hands, and groped between the two broken stone pillars for a stone the size of a bun.She picked it up, put it on her knees, and temporarily hung the pajamas on her head and shoulders, with her ears exposed.She wrapped the stone in the dirty and disgusting cloth strip soaked in "Wendy's" blood, and then, as she instructed, wrapped them all in pajamas.She knew that the blood had basically been washed away by the rain.Because it wasn't a drizzle, it wasn't a downpour anymore, it had turned into a flood. "Keep going!" the brown-skinned woman in red told her, "keep searching in the temple! Once you get out of the temple, don't stop anyway, don't take anything you see, don't believe what you see and hear anything. Even though it is a haunted place, no one can harm a living woman in the Temple of the Bull." Rosie's whole body was shaking like chaff, the rain in his eyes turned everything he saw into double shadows, the rain dripped down the tip of his nose, and the drops of water hung on the helix, like wearing a pair of strange jewels. Made earrings. "Wendy" stood across from her, the rain glued her hair to her eyebrows and cheeks, her dark eyes gleaming.In order to let her voice through the increasingly strong wind and rain, she had to shout loudly: "Go out through the gate on the other side of the altar, and you will enter a garden where all the flowers are withered; and through the garden, you enter a grove where all the trees are withered except one. ;There is a brook between the grove and the garden. Never drink from it, however thirsty you are, not even a drop! Walk up the steps on the flagstones! If you accidentally the brook, and it will make you forget everything! Even your name!" Lightning flashed blindingly through the clouds, and the storm took on the appearance of a dying monster in the flash.Never before had Rosie been so terribly cold, never so conscious of this irrepressible excitement, never felt such a strong desire to warm her body from the icy rain that was pouring down upon her head and face.As the downpour gradually turned to drizzle, her thinking gradually returned to normal.It seems that this is definitely not a dream. “快走进那个小树林里去！那里的树全都枯萎了，惟一活着的是一棵石榴树！将它的种子收集起来，但是千万不要尝那些果实，也千万不要把摸过种子的手放进嘴里！树旁有些台阶，顺着那台阶走下去，进入底层的大厅！找到那个婴儿，把它带回来，千万要小心公牛！提防复仇之神文林尼斯！现在快去！赶快！” 罗西害怕公牛的神庙，畏惧它那光怪陆离的混乱情景，但是现在极度渴望走出暴雨的念头已经超越了一切惶恐和害怕。她真想远离这块风雨交加、电闪雷鸣的地方。她仍然用手保护着头部，担心大雨会突然转变为冰雹。她忽然想到，赤身裸体地挨冰雹的袭击，即使是在梦里，那滋味也一定会极不好受。 罗西走出几步以后，转过身来看着那位棕色皮肤的女人。“温迪”看上去几乎跟她一样一丝不挂地站在那里，她那身轻薄透明的百褶裙像一层红色的颜料，紧紧地裹着她的身体。 “谁是艾林尼斯？”罗西大喊了一声，“他是谁？”她鼓起勇气回头看了一眼神庙，几乎希望众神听见她的声音会走出来。可是没有神灵出现；在疯狂倾泻的瓢泼大雨中只能隐约看见那座歪歪斜斜的神庙遗址。 棕色皮肤的女人眼睛骨碌碌地转了几圈。“为什么你表现得这么愚蠢，朋友？”她也同样大声地冲着她喊道，“接着找下去！只要你还能走动就不要停止下来！”然后举起手臂，直指神庙，那姿势简直和她的女主人罗丝·麦德一模一样。 6 苍白而赤身裸体的罗西将湿透的睡衣揉成了一团，用它顶在腹部，尽可能地保护着那个部位，一步步接近了神庙。走了几步之后，她在草地上看到一尊石雕头像。她低下头，以为自己会看到诺曼。当然很有可能是诺曼，所以她应该随时做好准备。梦中发生的事情一般来说会遵循这种逻辑。 那只头像不是诺曼。几近秃顶的脑袋，肥胖的面孔，经过精心梳理的戴维·克罗斯比武胡须，这一定是罗西刚来那天寻找姐妹之家时走错了方向，在维尼酒吧门廊里看见的那个粗壮男人。 我又迷路了！she thinks.哦，兄弟，我真的迷路了。 她走过坍塌的头像面前，它那没有眼珠的眼睛似乎在哭泣，它的脸颊和眉毛沾上了一簇野草，好像一道又长又湿的绿色疤痕，当她走近外形奇特的神庙时，身后似乎有人在低声说话：嗨宝贝儿想来吗你说什么想骑在上面吗想给我做伴吗你说是吗？ 她跨上神庙的台阶，上面长满了长春藤和爬山虎。她感到地面上那个石头脑袋随着她的脚步而转动着，在湿透的地面上挤出了泥浆，似乎想在她走进黑暗之前欣赏一下她那赤裸的臀部曲线。 别想这事儿。别往这上面想。 她克制住想从雨水中跑掉，从石头脑袋的视线中彻底消失的欲望，继续小心翼翼地选择着自己的道路，留神不要踩到破裂的石块上，以免扭伤踝骨或者引起骨折。这还不是最糟糕的，谁知道会有哪些恶毒的东西隐藏在黑暗之中，趁你不备时扎你一下或咬你一口？ 雨水顺着她的肩肿骨，沿着脊椎骨一直流淌下去，虽然她感到比任何时候都要冷，但她仍然站在台阶的最高处，注视着神庙高大而幽暗的门廊顶部。她在自己的油画中没有看到过这一画面；它们消失在房檐下面的阴影之中。 这是一个背靠电话线柱的表情冷酷的男孩，他的头发搭在前额上，夹克衫的领子翻立着，下嘴唇上叼着一支香烟，他歪斜着髓骨站在那里，活生生一副懒散的样子，那姿势一看便知在70年代末一定是个最酷的家伙。那家伙还在说着什么，好像在说：嗨，宝贝儿，嗨宝贝儿嗨宝贝儿，想躺下吗？想骑在我身上吗？想给我做伴吗？ 那是诺曼。 “不，”她喃喃低语着，似乎是在呻吟，“哦，不。” 哦，对，那正是诺曼。毫无疑问，诺曼靠在州立大街和奥布莱威利49号公路交叉路口的电话线柱上，看着来往的车辆，听着BEEGEE摇滚乐队《你该跳个舞》的歌声从芬尼根酒吧传出来，大门敞开着，音量调到了最大。 一阵风吹过，罗西又听见了婴儿的哭声。它不像是受到了伤害，却像是肚子饿了的声音。微弱的哭声令她的视线从那个悲惨而肮脏的雕像身上转移开，她开始赤着脚挪动起来。正当她要通过神庙的门廊时，她又抬起头来看了一眼……她实在克制不住想看一眼的欲望。小诺曼不见了，她看见就在门廊的上方刻着一行字：把我的爱滋病传染走，老兄。 梦境中的一切就像水一样，没有什么东西是持续不变的，她想。 她回头看了一眼，发现“温迪”仍然站在倒塌的石柱旁，低下头扫视着她身上那件沾满了泥水的乱糟糟的衣服。罗西举起没有拿睡衣的那只手冲着她摇晃了一下；“温迪”也举起了一只手算是回答，然后站在那里继续观察着，好像已经忘掉了倾盆大雨。 罗西走过宽阔而冰冷的门廊，进入了古庙之中，有点紧张地站在后面，假如她看到……哦……无论她看到什么，她随时准备立即逃跑。“温迪”告诉她不要向鬼神提出任何问题，但是罗西猜想那个红衣女人应该乐观自信一些才对。她毕竟回来了。 她猜测里面比外面暖和多了，没想到那里有一种潮湿石头发出的逼人寒气，那是一种从墓穴中发出的寒气，这时她不能确定是否要走进正前方那个被阴影笼罩的、撒满落叶的门廊。这会儿她感到太冷了，全身上下都出奇的冰凉，连周围的空气都寒冷到难以忍受的地步。她打着哆嗦，急促地呼吸着，双臂紧紧地抱在胸前，皮肤里往外冒着热气。她用手指尖摸了摸乳头，毫不惊讶地发现自己摸到的就像是一块石头。 她想回到山顶上那个身穿玫瑰红短裙的女人那里，赤手空拳地面对罗丝·麦德，这想法促使她往前走。她小心翼翼地走进侧廊，仔细倾听着婴儿的哭声。那声音听上去好像在几英里以外，向她传达了某种具有魔力的东西。 下去，把我的孩子给我抱回来。 卡洛琳。这是她打算给自己的孩子起的名字，它迅速地出现在她的脑海中。诺曼已经从她体内夺走了那个孩子。她胸中又开始爆发出那种急促的悸动。她摸了一下乳头，疼得缩回了手指。它已经变软了。 她迅速调整了视线，眼睛逐渐适应了黑暗。公牛的神庙具有某种古怪的基督教式外观，它实际上很像奥布莱威利的第一座卫理公会教堂，她在结婚以前每周都要去两次。他们的婚礼就是在那里举行的，她的父亲、母亲以及弟弟死于交通事故以后葬礼也是在那里举行的。里面有一排排木制的老式长条靠背椅，后面几排已经翻倒在地上，一半埋入了散发着樟木气味的树叶中；前面几排还在整整齐齐地排列着。座位上间或放着厚厚的黑色封面的书，可能是赞美诗集，罗西就是在它们的伴随下长大的。 当她像个新娘一样赤身裸体地走进中间的侧廊时，她所知道的第二件事就是这里的气味。门外那股好闻的树叶气味下面，隐藏着一丝令人不快的臭味。它很像松软的沃土味，又像霉菌味，还有点像腐败物质的气味。实际上它并不是其中任何一种。汗酸味儿吗？有那么一点儿像。也可能是其他液体。她想到了精液，或者血液。 随着气味而来的是一种被一双恶毒的眼睛注视着的感觉。她感到它们在仔细地研究她的裸体，细细地盘算着，为她身体上的每一个曲线作出记号，记住她的潮湿、光滑而柔软的皮肤下面的每一次肌肉运动。 紧紧地挨着你谈一谈，在空洞的雨水敲击地面以及枯叶上她的赤脚发出的声音下面，她好像听见神庙在哀叹着。紧紧地挨着你谈一谈……但是我们要谈的事情不需要太多时间，对吗，罗西？ 她在神庙靠前边的地方停住了脚步，从第二排座位上拿起了一本黑皮书。刚一打开，一股浓烈的腐臭味儿使她差点儿窒息。这一页的最上边是一幅轮廓分明、线条清晰的油画，是她年轻时读过的赞美诗集中从来没有出现过的：一位妇女跪在地上对一位男子进行着口淫，他的双脚充其量只能算是一对兽蹄。实际上他并没有脸，而只有一个使人联想到是一张脸的东西。他酷似诺曼的老搭档哈里，罗西看到了二人可怕的相似之处……每当她坐下，他总是贪婪地看着她的裙边。 油画底下，五颜六色的书页上印满了19世纪传教士西里尔发明的字母，虽然很面熟，却无法读懂。她立刻明白了其中的原因：当她去旅行救援处向彼德·斯洛维克求救时，他阅读的正是一份用那种文字印的报纸。 这时突然发生了令她震惊的事情。那张画突然动起来了，一根线条好像在向她白皙的。有皱褶的手指上爬了过来，在书页上留下类似蜗牛爬过的痕迹。它毕竟是活生生的。她啪地一声合上了书本，紧咬着嘴唇，把从内心深处冲出来的尖叫声又强压了下去；接着又是砰地一声，这是她把书扔掉了的声音。这声音和她压低嗓门的一声尖叫惊醒了躲在唱诗班楼厢阴影里的一群蝙蝠。有几只立即像无头苍蝇般在头顶飞来飞去，黑色的翅膀拖着令人恶心的棕色身体在潮湿的空气中乱撞一气，最后退回到洞里。前面是祭坛，当她看到金色的阳光从左边那扇打开的椭圆形侧门倾泻进来时，立刻松了一口气。 你——真的——是——罗——西，神庙中一个毫无生气的声音在低声耳语着，听上去单调乏味得近乎可笑。你——是——罗——西——本人……到这儿来，我会——跟——你——玩儿个——心——跳。 她不愿回头看，目光继续紧盯着洒满阳光的侧门。雨变小了，原先房顶上那种有空旷回音的水流涌动声现在变成了低沉而持续不断的哗啦声。 这里只许男人进来，罗——西，神庙在沙沙低语着，然后又补充说，诺曼总是说他不想回答她的任何问题，其实他并不是真的在生她的气；男人本来就是这样。 她走过去时看了看祭坛的位置，迅速移开了视线。那里现在是空的，上面既没有布道的讲坛，也没有宗教信条和神秘的书本，但是她看见在光秃秃的石头上面映着一个盘旋的章鱼的黑影，锈迹斑斑的颜色暗示着那里曾经是血迹，巨大的黑影意味着多年来那里曾经溅洒过大量的鲜血。 神庙又在低语：那是拱形汽车旅馆，罗——西。石头上的树叶旋转起来，发出一种从没有牙床的嘴巴里发出的那种笑声。他们办理了登记手续，却没有办理付账手续就——走——了。 罗西一步一步往门口走去，不想听见那些声音。她的眼睛直视着前方，甚至有些期望当她走近大门时，它会砰地一声在她面前关上，但是她盼望的事情并没有发生，诺曼的脸也没有出现。她走上一小块台阶，闻到一股雨水带来的生机勃勃的青草气味，尽管雨还没有完全停下，空气却已经开始变得温暖起来。到处是沙沙作响的雨点声和阵阵雷鸣，那已经是最后的余音。已经沉默多时的婴儿这时又开始在远处啼哭起来。 罗西。 这一次不是神庙发出的声音。这是诺曼的声音，就在她的身后，她突然意识到她闻到了诺曼的科隆香水味儿。我的弟兄们除了英国皮衣，别的什么都不穿。她感到有冰凉的东西顺着脊椎骨爬了上来。 他就在她的身后。 从后面伸出手来够她。 No, I don't believe it.即便是我想要相信，也绝对办不到。 这是个很愚蠢的想法。愚蠢到足以列入吉尼斯世界纪录，但这想法使她镇静下来。她走得很慢，心里十分清楚：假如走得太快就会迷路。她又下了三个台阶，来到一个她在心里把它叫做公牛花园的地方。雨还在下，但是小得多了。风势已经减弱，罗西走进一个用两排玉米杆组成的通道，听到不远处有溪水咆哮的声音。那声音越来越大，当她走出玉米杆通道时，看见在不到十五英尺远的地方有一条小溪，它大约有十英尺宽，从两岸舒缓的坡度可以判断出，溪水原来很浅，只是雨水的流量稍稍增加了河水的深度。小溪中间有四块大石头，在水流冲刷下变成褪了色的乌龟壳。 溪水呈现着柏油般乌黑的颜色。她一边慢条斯理地往前走，一边用手挤掉头发上的雨水。走近小溪后，她闻见一股奇特的矿化物气味，那是一种浓烈而诱人的金属味儿。她突然觉得口渴难忍，嗓子眼里直往外冒火。 你不能喝这里的水，无论多渴也不行。Absolutely not. 对，她就是这么对她说的；而且她还警告过她，即使她被那溪水仅仅弄湿了一根手指，她也会从此忘掉所有的事情，包括自己的姓名。但是真有这么糟吗？其实从另一个角度考虑一下，如果能够忘掉诺曼，忘掉他曾经为了她而杀过人，难道事情真的很糟糕吗？罗西咽了一口唾沫，感到嗓子里面像有干柴烈火在燃烧。她用手在身上使劲儿拍打，从乳房和脖子周围收集到一些水分，然后嘴巴对着手掌贪婪地吸吮。这办法并没有消除口渴，反而加剧了口渴的程度。溪水绕着台阶流过，闪耀着诱人的黑色亮光，浓烈的矿泉水味儿充斥着罗西的整个大脑。她知道那水的味道一定像淡而无味的、陈旧的糖浆水，她还知道那种奇怪的咸味和溴化物气味儿充满喉咙和肚子时会是一种怎样的感觉。那是一种使人能够遗忘一切的泥土气息。她会忘掉普拉特夫人，她曾经告诉她，她的全家都在高速公路上遇难了；她会忘掉举着蒙古铅笔和黑杆网球拍的诺曼，忘掉维尼酒吧里的那个男子，还会忘掉那个把姐妹之家叫做同性恋福利会的胖女人。她多想忘记她曾坐在屋角，肾脏的疼痛使她呕吐个不停，还得吐在围裙里。忘掉这一切该是多么美好的事情！有些事忘记与否没有什么差别，而另外一些，例如诺曼用网球拍对她所做的一切，则必须忘记……忘到好像从来没有过这种体验，甚至在梦中也没有发生过的程度。 罗西全身发抖，眼睛盯着像透明丝带一样静静流淌的黑色溪水，嗓子眼里像是在燃烧。她不停地眨眼，想象自己弯下了腰，把整个脑袋伸进水里，像头牲口一样痛饮一番。 在忘掉那些灾难的同时，你也会忘记比尔，理智带着一丝遗憾在对她窃窃私语。你会忘记他那双有着褐色眸子的浅绿色眼睛，以及耳轮上扎过耳朵眼的小圆疤痕。近来发生了许多值得你记住的事情，罗西，你是知道的，对吗？ 罗西不再犹豫了。她走上第一块大石头，伸出双手保持身体平衡。从她的睡衣包裹里不断地流下来红色的水，她能感觉到里面包裹着的石头的分量。她左脚踩在石头上，右脚站在岸边，鼓足了勇气，抬起右脚，往前边那块石头上迈去。all the best.她又举起左脚，迈了一大步，跨上第三块石头。这一次她的身体有点失去平衡，向右边摆了摆。她举起左手摇晃了几下来维持平衡，溪水被石头晃动得哗哗作响。这时她已经站在了小溪的中央，心脏咚咚地跳个不停。 罗西担心再犹豫下去很快就会冻僵，她踩上最后一块大石头，一步跳上了长满枯草的岸边，只三步就走到了前面的丛林中，她意识到，剧烈的口渴就像一场噩梦一样总算过去了。 丛林里似乎活埋着一些巨人，他们伸出手臂，用没有果实的树枝向空中无言地诉说着这里曾经发生过的谋杀。枯萎的树枝相互交错纠缠在一起，在空中形成了奇怪的几何图形。一条小路通向这些几何图形。这条小路的保镖是一个裸体的男孩雕像，他那根直挺挺的生殖器硕大无比，双手高高地举在头顶。当罗西经过他时，他那双没有眼珠的石头眼睛对着她眨眼。这一点她十分肯定。 嗨宝贝儿！石头人在她的脑海里愤怒地说，想下来吗？想跟我玩儿一次吗？ 她举起手挡住自己，匆匆走开，但是石头男孩儿只是个石头男孩儿而已……假如他是别的什么，哪怕只是一刹那也很可怕。水从他那大得可笑的阴茎上滴了下来。罗西想，他肯定能保持着勃起的状态。她看着他那双无珠的眼睛，以及过于狡烩的笑容。诺曼会十分嫉妒你。 她匆忙从雕像身边走开，沿着通向树林的小路前进，她强烈地渴望回头看一眼，石像是否跟她走来，那只挺起的阴茎是否在动。但是她极力克制住自己的冲动。她不敢看。她怕自己由于过度紧张会看到一个有可能并不存在的东西。瓢泼大雨已经变成了淅淅沥沥的小雨。罗西忽然发现自己已经有一会儿听不见那婴儿的哭声了，也许它睡着了。也许公牛艾林尼斯听腻了这哭声，像吞噬薄饼一样把它一口吞了下去。无论发生了哪种情况，它都不会哭，罗西怎样才能找到它？她继续往下走，倾听着雨水打在枯树上的哗哗声，不愿承认自己在树皮上看见了人的面孔。是真正的人的面孔，而且还在尖叫。罗西觉得很像女人的面孔。 走了一段路以后，她看见一棵倒下的大树堵塞了小路。这棵大树很明显是在暴雨中被雷电所击中的。它一半已经裂开，并被烧成了焦黑色，几根树枝像死灰复燃的营地篝火一样还在青烟缭绕。罗西不敢爬过去，到处都是干裂的树枝和锯齿般尖利的主干。 她从右侧徐徐绕过倒下的大树和露出地面的树根。她绕回去很长一段路，才绕过了像蛇一样突然钻出地面的一节树根。 嗨，宝贝儿！你想玩一玩吗？你这婊子，你不想吗？ 这声音从一个塌陷的山洞里飘了出来。树根突然划过她的小腿。 想跟四个人一起玩吗？Rossi?这倒听起来不错，我会从后门溜进你的房间，像吞噬烘烤得香喷喷的奶酪三明治一样吞掉你。否则，你就用你的嘴巴吸走我的爱滋病。 “放开我。”罗西悄悄地说，用睡衣垫着树根，摆脱了它的纠缠，继续匆匆赶路。由于树根缠得太紧，在她小腿上留下了一道圆形的红色斑痕，然而很快便消失了。她觉得自己差点被吓坏了，不过对于一个和诺曼生活了十四年之久的人来说，这种恐惧算不了什么。 7 又走了五分钟，她已经走到了路的尽头。展现在眼前的是一片孤独凄凉的林中空地，里面只有一棵植物是有生命的。它是罗西一生中所见过的最美丽的树，她吃惊得几乎窒息。她曾经是奥布莱威利卫理公会主日学校的忠实学生，现在还能记得亚当和夏娃在伊甸园里的故事，她想，假如在伊甸园中真有一棵知善恶之树，它看起来一定跟这棵树一模一样。 树上密密麻麻长满了细长而光滑的绿色树叶，紫红色的果实沉甸甸地挂满了枝头。在它周围倒下了很多玫瑰红色的大树，和罗丝．麦德的短裙颜色非常相似。这些倒下的大树多数还十分新鲜饱满，它们很可能是被刚刚过去的暴风雨所摧毁的，甚至那些已经开始腐朽的大树也同样生机盎然。罗西愉快地抿着嘴唇，渴望拣起一只果实，结结实实地咬上一大口。她想象那滋味一定是酸甜的，叶子很像大黄的叶柄，果肉带有树林里那种没有完全熟透的山莓味儿。她看着那棵很像石榴的大树，一只果实从不堪重负的枝头落下，砸到了地上，裂开的果实里面露出了玫瑰红色的果肉，她能看见涓涓果汁中的一粒粒种子。 罗西往树下跨了一步，便停了下来。她在两根石柱之间徘徊着：她的心灵相信这一切都是一场梦，她的肉体却感到这不可能是梦，世界上没有任何人的梦能够如此真实。她半信半疑地开始倾向于相信这是一场梦。树的左边看上去很像地铁入口，宽阔的白色台阶一直通向黑暗的地下。台阶上有一座雪花石膏的柱基，上面刻着“迷宫”两个字。 真的，这太过分了。罗西想着，但是她仍向大树走去。如果这是梦，她迟早可以从自己的床上被闹钟叫醒，然后关掉闹钟，以免被它吵得心烦意乱。现在她多么渴望听到它的铃声！她很冷，脚也很脏，她还被树根勾住过，她的裸体被一个石头男孩贪婪地注视过，他太年轻，不知道自己在看些什么。总之她感到假如她不能尽快回到自己的房间，她会得一场重感冒，甚至感染上支气管炎，它会影响她星期六的约会，还会使下个星期的录音工作全面陷入瘫痪。 罗西没有注意到，一个人会因为梦中旅行而患感冒是一件多么可笑的事情。她跪在落得满地都是的果实旁，仔细地研究着，仍然渴望知道它的滋味。她打开了睡衣的一角，又撕下来一块布条，把它铺在地上，打算把拣起的种子一粒一粒全部放进去。 她想，这计划真不错。但愿我能知道为什么要这样做。 她的手指尖好像打了一针足量的奴佛卡因似的，顿时变得毫无知觉，同时，一阵奇妙的芳香扑进了她的鼻子。那是一种甜蜜的香味儿，但是并不是花香味儿，它使罗西想起了馅饼、小甜饼、蛋糕等等从奶奶的炉子里面烤出来的那些可爱的东西。它还让她想起了当她和比尔并肩往科尔大厦方向走时，比尔的身体碰到她时的那种感觉。当然，这种感觉和奶奶那个铺着亚麻油毡地毯的厨房之间的距离需要用光年来计算。 她把二十多粒种子放在了那块布条上，犹豫不决地耸了耸肩，又加进去两粒。这些够了吗？她既然不知道为什么要采集它们，又怎么会知道需要采集多少粒。她最好赶快离开这里。她又听见了婴儿的呜咽声，比抽泣的声音还要小，这就预示着它已经打算放弃努力，准备睡觉了。 她把潮湿的布条像叠信封那样对折起来。这使她想起每当冬季快要过完时，父亲就用一只信封给她带回来一些种子，那时她还是一名主日学校的好学生。现在她已经长大了。她为自己美丽的裸体感到自豪，而不是羞愧。 她头脑中理智的那一半自我不到一秒钟便立即意识到，她打算用自己那只染上了玫瑰红果肉的手指干什么。她的心咚咚咚地跳个不停，使劲吹了吹手指，那种酸甜的味道充满了整个头脑。不要尝，“温迪”曾经警告过她。干万别尝那果实，甚至也不要把摸过种子的手指放进嘴里！ 这是一个危机丛生的地方。 她站了起来，看着肮脏的手指颤抖，好像从来没有见过它们一样。她任凭果实和种子撒了满地，匆匆离开了。 这不是知善恶之树，罗西想。这也不是生命之树。我想，这是死亡之树。 一阵微风吹过，石榴树长而光滑的树叶沙沙作响。好像喋喋不休地用嘲弄的口气悄悄念叨着她的名字：罗西——罗西——罗西！ 她又跪下来，寻找活着的青草，结果一棵也没有找到。她放下睡衣，把包着种子的小包放在它上面，拔下一大把潮湿的枯草，使劲摩擦着摸过种子的手。玫瑰红褪掉了许多，但是并没有彻底消失。指甲下面仍然留有原来的颜色。婴儿的哭声更加频繁了。 “好吧，”罗西喃喃自语着站起身来，“你的手离你的嘴远一些。这样就会没事。” 她走向白色雪花石的台阶，站在台阶的顶层，对进入黑暗感到有些担心，便试着给自己打气。白色雪花石基座的表面刻有“迷宫”二字，它现在看起来已经不再像是一个基座，而像是一小块墓碑。 婴儿还在啼哭，好像没人安慰它似的，它就在下面黑暗中。那种孤独的、自我安慰的声音最终使她往前跨了一步。它不应该在这样一个孤独的地方自己哭着睡着。 罗西一边往下走，一边数着台阶。第七层，她从一个房檐下面走过。在第十四层时她回头看见后面有一个矩形的光亮，转身面对着它，那光亮像幽灵一样出现在她眼前。她一层一层地往下走，赤脚踩在石头上发出噼啪的声响。 五十层。七十五层。已经是一百层了。她停在了第一百二十五层台阶上，又看见光亮了。 你真傻，罗西。其实这一切都是你的想象。That's how it is. No.她慢慢地举起手，包着种子的小包和拿它的那只手闪着迷人的绿光。扭曲的黑影变得高大起来，好像那不是一堵墙，而是玻璃鱼缸，无生命的东西漂浮在水的表面。 罗西！stop!别再继续这样想！ she can't. 那你就什么都不要看！ 这是一个好主意。了不起的主意。罗西低头看着自己脚上鬼火般暗淡的X光，继续往下走，低声地数着台阶。绿光继续照亮下面的台阶，当她到达第二百零二层，也就是最底层台阶时，好像站在了一个用绿色胶质体照亮的舞台上，她抬起头，准备接受她所看见的一切。下面的空气是流动的，既潮湿又新鲜，但是里面有一种她不喜欢的气味儿。像动物园里的味道。她感到这里好像关着某种野生动物。毫无疑问，这一定是公牛文林尼斯。 面前有三面石头墙，高十二英尺，由于墙太高，她看不见墙的另一边。这里也闪耀着那种暗淡的绿光，罗西神经质地扫视着通向四个方向的四条狭窄通道，应该去哪个方向？婴儿还在离她很远的地方嚎啕大哭着，但是它的声音正在渐渐减弱，好像一台收音机的音量正在被人渐渐关掉。 “快哭！”罗西大喊了一声。顿时，四面传来了她自己的回声。“呜……呜……呜！” 除此以外什么声音也听不见。四条通道通向了迷宫的四个入口，它们默默地面对着她，就像四只张大的嘴巴，谨慎地露出吃惊的表情。她在距离右边第二个通道不远的地方看到了一堆黑色的东西。 你知道那该死的东西是什么？she thinks.你曾经忍受着诺曼、哈里，以及诺曼所有的朋友，你已经忍受了十四年了，以至于愚蠢到连一堆牛粪也认不出来的地步。 这个想法引发了一连串的记忆，那些臭男人坐在客厅里没完没了地谈工作、抽烟，谈工作、说黑人的笑话，接着又谈工作，说下流故事，这些都使她生气。罗西并不否认这种感情，她一生都在自我训练，使自己接受他们。生气的感觉不错，比起恐惧来要好得多。还是个孩子时，她也有过在游乐场上发出刺耳尖叫的岁月，那种声音能将玻璃震碎，能使眼珠爆裂。十岁左右时她因为发出了这种尖利的声音而遭到了谴责，人们说那声音不是女士应有的；它足以破坏一个人的大脑。现在罗西想看一看自己是否还拿得出这项保留节目。她将地下潮湿的空气全部吸入肺部，一直送到身体的底层，闭上了眼睛，回忆上小学时玩过的把戏。她甚至觉得自己已经闻到了她最喜欢的那件法兰绒衬衫令人心醉的芳香，她曾经一直把它穿到背后破成了两半。她张开嘴，声嘶力竭地发出了一声哀鸣，那是一种用常声和假声反复变换着喊出来的声音。 她欣喜若狂了。这仍然是儿时的声音，但是比儿时要好听得多，同时使她感觉到好像是回到了过去，就像惊奇女郎。超级女孩以及安尼·奥克莱的综合体。最重要的是，它确实起作用了，甚至当她的校园节目还没有表演完，那孩子就开始哭起来了。那是她的肺部所能发出的最尖利的声音。 快点，罗西，你必须越快越好。如果她真的累了，她现