Chapter 3 Chapter 1 Albany, New York 3

After seeing Vicki back to his dorm, Andy walked across the campus toward the highway, hoping to catch a ride into town.The May breeze caressed his face softly, but in the elm bushes on either side of the road he could hear that same breeze growing strong and rushing through the canopy like an invisible river running over his head, while All he felt was the tiniest of them. The most distant ripples. Passing Jason Gilney Hall, Andy stopped in front of the huge black building. Around the hall, the bushes with new leaves danced in the invisible river of wind, and a chill ran down his body. Climbing down on his back and staying in his abdomen, he felt a burst of ice cold, and he actually shivered in the warm night wind, a big silver market-like moon was moving in the flowing clouds - like a well-dressed keel boat Yufeng And walking, galloping on that dark river of wind, the windows of buildings reflecting the moonlight look like hollow, unhappy eyes.

Something happened here, thought Andy, and no one told me and didn't want us to know. What is it? In his mind, he saw the bloody dying hand again—only this time he saw it smack across the picture, leaving a comma-shaped smear of blood...and the picture rolled up with a thud . He walked towards the building, you're crazy, they won't let you into the lecture hall after ten o'clock at night, and— Besides I'm terrified. Yes.Because of this, mostly disturbingly vague memories, it was a little too simplistic to believe they were mere hallucinations, and Vicky was convincing himself to think so.One subject had her eyes gouged out; another was screaming that she would rather die than die, even if it meant going to hell for eternity in fire, and yet another had a heart attack and was later killed. Hastily carried out of the house, the proficiency of the movement is chilling.Because... Andy, let's face it... it's not the thought of telepathy that scares you, it's the thought that these things might actually happen.

The heels rattled.Andy walked up to Dawen and tried the door.locked.Through the crack in the door, he could see the empty hallway, and Andy knocked on the door.When a man sticks his head out of the window, he almost runs away—for it could be the face of Ralph Backus: or a tall man with shoulder-length blond hair. of. There was a scar on his chin. But it wasn't them; after coming to the gate and unlocking it, it was an ordinary school security guard, he was about sixty-two years old, with a disgruntled face.A wrinkled forehead and watchful blue eyes filled with mucus from drinking too much.A large alarm clock hung on his waist.

"The building is closed!" he said. "I know." Andy said. "But this morning I was participating in an experiment in room 70, and I..." "That can't be helped! The building closes at 9pm on weekends! Come back tomorrow!" "—I think I left my watch in there," said Andy.He didn't actually have a watch. "Hey, how's it going? Just take a look." "I can't do that," said the Night's Watch, but he sounded strangely less determined all of a sudden. Andy didn't think much about it, he said softly: "Of course you can, I'll just take a look and leave, I won't get in your way. You won't even remember that I've been here, will you?"

Andy suddenly had a strange feeling in his head, as if he had "pushed" the elderly night watchman, only with his brain instead of hands, and the night watchman did stagger backwards. Two or three steps, let the door open. Andy walked into the hall, a little uneasy.There was a sudden, sharp pain in his head.But it soon subsided into a slight throbbing pain.Andy later learned that the pain would go away after half an hour. "Hello, are you all right?" he asked the night watchman. "Huh? Of course, I'm fine." The guard no longer doubted, and he smiled friendlyly at Andy, "Since you are willing, go upstairs and find your watch. Don't worry. I may not even remember you coming. "

After speaking he walked away. Andy watched him off in disbelief, then touched his forehead blankly, as if wanting to relieve the slight pain inside.God, what did he do to that old guy?Surely something must have been done. He turned and walked toward the stairs, and began to ascend.The upstairs hall was narrow and dark; a claustrophobic terror seized upon it, making his breathing come short of his neck as if he were wearing a collar.Above, the top of the building juts out into the river of wind, and the air streams slither over the eaves, hissing sharply. Room 70 has double doors on the upper and lower floors, and the upper two are equipped with square frosted glass.Andy stood outside the door, listening to the wind rustle the fallen leaves over the gutters and downspouts.His heart swelled and pounded in his chest.

At this moment he almost walked away-suddenly he felt that it would be better not to know, it would be better to forget all this.Then he reached for a doorknob.Tell yourself there's nothing to worry about, because the damn room will be locked.That's better. Unfortunately, this is not the case.The handle turned—the door opened. There was no one in the room, and the moonlight shone into the room through the swaying branches of the old elm outside the window, flickering on and off.But he could still see that the beds were gone.The blackboard has been wiped clean.flushed.The image is rolled up like a curtain; only the guy wires are swaying in the air.Andy walked towards it, and after a pause, he stretched out his trembling hand and pulled it down.

Brain Structural Diagram—The human brain was brought up, marked like a butcher's diagram.Looking at it, Andy had that post-medication feeling again.Not pleasant; simply disgusting.Andy couldn't help moaning, as weak as a spider's web and silver threads. The gore was still there, comma-shaped black in the leaping moonlight.The muscle body that was printed on the picture before Zhou Wei's test has now become a body, and part of the writing is blocked by blood. Such a small thing. Such a big deal. Andy stood in the dark staring at the blood, trembling all over.How much is true?Some?most?all?or not at all?

There was a sound behind him that he probably thought he heard: soft footsteps. His hands fluttered wildly, and one of them struck the map with the same terrible sound.It rolled up with a bang, which was particularly harsh in the dark room. There was a sudden knocking at a moonlit window in the distance.A twig, or a dead man's finger laced with eye tissue and bodily fluids?let me in i forgot my eyes in there oh let me in- In a slow-motion dream, he felt dizzy; it must be the boy, a white-cloaked elf with only two black holes dripping blood left in his eye sockets.Andy's heart was about to jump out.

No one was there. Nothing is there. But his nerves couldn't bear it.When the branch began to tap mercilessly again, he ran away without bothering to close the door.He dashed down the narrow hallway, and suddenly he actually heard footsteps chasing behind him (an echo of his own).He rushed down the stairs two steps into the hall, out of breath, his temples pounding, the air stinging in his throat like cut hay. Security isn't around.Andy left the building, closed the heavy glass door behind him, and crept down the steps like a fugitive to the little square. He never imagined that he really became a fugitive later.

Five days later, Andy dragged a very reluctant Vicky Tomlinson into Jason Gilney Hall.Vitch had decided never to think of the experiment again.She had deposited a check for two hundred dollars from the psychology department and was about to forget where it came from. He tried his best to persuade her to agree to come together, and his eloquence surprised him. They set off at 2:50 during recess.A warm May breeze brought the bells of Harrison Church. "Nothing will happen to us in broad daylight," said Andy.Even in his heart he didn't want to know what it was that he was afraid of. "With so many people around, nothing will happen." "I just don't want to go, Andy," she said.But she went anyway. Two, three students are coming out of the lecture hall with books under their arms.The sunlight gilded the windows much more drably than Andy remembered the glass under the silvery moonlight. When Andy and Vicky entered the classroom, several other students also came in one after another, preparing for biology class at three o'clock.Seven of them began whispering eagerly to two other students that there was not going to be a demonstration this week calling for the "deletion of ROTC."Nobody noticed Andy and Vicky. "Come on," Andy said, his voice gruff and tense, "see what you think—" He pulled the cord to open the schematic.What was displayed in front of them was a diagram of the organs of a naked man.His muscles looked like balls of red thread.Some wise man gave him a name: Oskar the Grumpy. "My God!" Andy exclaimed. Vicky grabbed his arm, her hands were hot and wet, the palms of which were sweaty from tension. "Andy," she said, "let's go. Please. Don't be recognized." Yes, he is leaving.For some reason, the fact that the schematic had been replaced terrified him more than anything else.He jerked the pull cord and let go, the schematic coiled up with the same swish sound. Different schematics.same voice.Twelve years later, he could still hear that slap if his headaches allowed it.After that day, he never walked into Jason.Room 70 in Gilnery Hall, but the sound of flushing is always in my ears. Often in his sleep he heard that voice... saw that question.struggle.Bloody hands. The green car drove briskly along the airport trail toward the North Boulevard entrance.Norwell Butz was sitting in the driver's seat, holding the steering wheel tightly with both hands, like two hour hands pointing at ten o'clock and two o'clock.The FM radio came muffled.Soft classical music.Now he has short, brushed-back hair, but the little semicircular scar on his chin hasn't changed— It was left over from a crack in a Coke bottle when he was a kid.If Vicky was still alive, she would recognize him. "There's one of us here," said the man in the Botney 500 suit.His name is John Mayo. "He's a special correspondent. Works for us and DIA." "Just an ordinary bitch," said a third.The three of them burst out into sharp laughter, which revealed the tension in their hearts.They knew their prey was not far away; they could almost smell the blood.The third was Orville Jamison, but he liked being called Oja; or Juice, which was best.His signature on all office papers is Oja.One time he wrote about juice, and the brute Karp gave him a penalty for it.Not just verbal, but recorded punishment. "You think they took the North Avenue?" Oja asked. Norwell Butz shrugged. "Either take the North Avenue or go to Albany." He said, "I'll send our redneck to check out the hotels in town—it's his place, isn't it?" "Of course!" John Mayo replied.He and Norwell are like-minded.They were an old friend, going all the way back to room 70 of Jason Gilner Hall.It was a hell of a time, man, if you were to be raped, and John never wants to go through anything like that again.He's the one who gave the heart shock to the student who had the heart attack. He was a paramedic back in Vietnam, and he knew what to do with heart fibrillation—at least in theory.But in practice he was less successful, and the kid died. Twelve students received Destiny Six injections that day.Two people died—a boy who suffered a heart attack and a girl who died six days later in her dormitory of what appeared to be a cerebral thrombosis.The other two were helplessly insane—one was the boy who had been blinded, and the other was the girl who was paralyzed from the neck down.Varys said it was psychological, but who the hell knew?Yes, what a wonderful day of work. "That redneck takes his wife," Norwell was saying, "and she'll pretend she's looking for her granddaughter. Her son's gone off with that little girl, all dirty divorces. Unless she has to, she won't." Willing to notify the police. But she's worried her son might be a little out of his mind. If she pretends to be, the night clerk at the hotel in town will tell her if the two are registered." It depends on whether she looks like it or not. "You never know what's going to happen when you're dealing with these reporters," Oja said. " John said, "We're going to the nearest entrance, aren't we?" Norwell said, "Yes. We'll be there in three or four minutes." "Have they had time to go this far?" "Walk to get there. Maybe we caught up with them when they stood at the intersection trying to hitch a ride. Maybe they took a shortcut; over the fence and onto the fork. Either way, we'll find them if we search along the road." of." "Where's the way, man, stop." Juice (nickname by Orville Jaminson) Imitate, then laugh.He carried a large pistol in a holster under his left shoulder.He called it "chasing the wind". If they've already stopped a car, we're out of luck.Norwell. " John said. Norwell shrugged: "Do the odds. It's 1:15 in the morning. There are fewer cars on the street than usual due to traffic control. If one sees a big man and a little girl wanting a ride , what would he think?" "He'll think it's bad," John said. "It's very likely." Juice laughed again.Ahead, the traffic lights marking the entrance to North Avenue flickered in the night.Oja put his hand on the handle of the Wind Chaser.Be prepared. 3 The van picked up a cool breeze as it passed them... and then its brake lights came on.The van turned into the lane and stopped about 50 yards ahead. "Thank God," Andy said softly, "Let me tell him, Charlie." "Okay, Dad." She sounded absent-minded, and now the black halo was back in her eyes, which backed away as they walked toward the van.Andy felt like his head was slowly inflating a lead balloon. On the side of the wagon is painted the story of God - the Caliph.A girl with a gorgeous mask and a wonderful flying carpet.The carpet must have been red, but under the sodium lamps by the side of the road; it showed the deep purple-brown color of dried blood. Andy opened the passenger door and lifted Charlie into the car.He then got into the car, "Thank you, sir," he said, "You saved us.  … "You're welcome." The driver said, "Hello, little stranger." "Hello," Charlie whispered. After looking at the car in the mirror outside the window, the driver gradually accelerated along the path, and then turned onto the fast lane.Andy glanced at Charlie's slightly drooping head, and felt a pang of guilt in his heart: Usually Andy would not pay attention to people like the driver when he saw them wanting a ride: he was tall and thin, with a big black face. "The Beard" has a hairy chest; he wears a felt hat like a prop in a film about life in rural Kentucky; and he puffs out what appears to be a homemade cigarette from the corner of his mouth. It smells like a regular cigarette, without the sweetness of marijuana. "Where are you going, man?" the driver asked. "Two towns further on," Andy replied. "Hastings. Grant?" "It's there." The driver nodded: "I guess you ran away from someone." Charlie tensed suddenly; Andy put a soothing hand on her back and stroked it gently until she relaxed again.From the driver's voice, he didn't hear any malice. "There were people at the airport waiting to summon us to court," he said. The driver grinned—a smile almost completely hidden under his luxuriant beard— He took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it gracefully out of the half-open window.The draft quickly extinguished it. "" I guess it has something to do with this little stranger. "He said. "Pretty much," said Andy. The driver said nothing.Andy sat on the back of the chair, trying to fight back his headache.The pain seemed to be beyond its limit.Has it ever hurt like this before?Impossible to tell. Whenever he overuses his powers, it feels like the worst.Within a month, he did not dare to perform gong anymore.He knew walking two towns wasn't far enough, but that was all he could do tonight.He is already at the end of a strong bend.If you can't do it, you can only go to Hastings Glen. "Who do you think will win?" the driver asked him. "what?" "Baseball Championship. What do you think of the San Diego Priests at the World Series?" "It's a lot ahead." Andy agreed.His voice floated from afar like a bell from the bottom of the sea. "Are you all right, man? You look pale." "Headache," Andy said. "Migraine." "It's stressful," the driver said. "I can imagine. Are you staying in a hotel? Are you rich? I can give you five dollars.Could have been more, but I'm going to California so I have to be careful with my money.Just like the Richmonds in Grapes of Wrath. " Andy smiled gratefully: "I think we're okay." "That's good." The driver glanced at Charlie who was dozing off. "What a cute little girl. Dude. Are you watching her?" "Do my best," Andy said, "That's right," said the driver, "Just like the song says." 14 Hastings Glen was like an open space on the highway; at this time of night, all the traffic lights in the town turned into flashing lights.The bearded driver in the felt hat drove off the exit through the sleepy town and along Route 40 to the Dreamland Motel.It was a mahogany building with a cotton field behind it and a pink neon sign in front.Charlie gradually fell asleep, slowly tilted to the left, and finally rested her head on the driver's lap in jeans.Andy tried to help her up, but the driver shook his head. "It's all right, buddy. Let her sleep." Can you send us further away? asked Andy. Though thinking for him? Difficult, but his instinct still made him alert. "Don't want the night watchman to know you're not driving?" the driver laughed. "Sure, man. But they wouldn't care if you came here on a wheelbarrow like this." The wheels creaked on the gravel. Ring, "Are you sure you don't need the five dollars?" "I think I'll need it," Andy said reluctantly. "Would you write me an address, please? I'll send you the money back." The driver laughed again. "My address is 'under change,'" he said, pulling out his wallet, "but maybe you'll see my happy face again, don't you? Who knows. Trust God, man." He put five Hands Andy the dollar; suddenly, Andy cries—not very violently) But he cries. "Come on, buddy," the driver said kindly.He patted Andy on the shoulder lightly. "Life is short and pain is eternal; we came into this world to help each other. This is the essence of my Jim Parson philosophy of life.Take care of little strangers. " "I will." Andy said, wiping away tears.He put the five dollar bill in the pocket of his corduroy jacket. "Charlie? Honey? Wake up. It'll be there in a minute." Three minutes later, Andy watched as Jim Parson drove up to a closed restaurant, then turned around and passed them toward the interstate.Charlie lay sleepily on Andy's lap.Andy raised his hand, and Parson waved back to them.Old Ford painted with Arabian legends, elves, ministers and a magical flying carpet.Good luck in California; young man, Andy blessed, and the two of them headed back for the Dreamland Motel. "I want you to wait for me outside first, out of sight. Okay?" Andy asked. "Okay, Dad." Charlie was very sleepy. Andy left her by an evergreen bush and walked towards the hotel by himself.He rang the bell.About two minutes later, a middle-aged man in a bathrobe came out, wiping his glasses as he walked.He opened the door to let Andy in without saying a word. "Wondering if I could give me the suite on the far left?" Andy asked. "I parked there." At this time of year, if you want, you can take all the rooms on the left. said the watchman, laughing; showing a mouth full of yellow false teeth. He handed Andy an index card and a pen. A car passed the door, its lights dimming silently and fading away. . Andy signed the card Bruce, "Rosell. Bruce was driving a 1978 Vega with New York City license plate LMS240) He stared at the "work place" column for a while, and then had an idea (in his As far as headaches will allow) he puts "United Merchandising Corporation of America." Under "Method of Payment" he puts "Cash." Another car drove past the door. The man on duty signed the card and stuffed it away. "Sixteen dollars and fifty-five cents all together." "Do you take change?" Andy asked.I hate these country businesses. " "You can spend the same. I don't care." "Thank you." Andy reached into his coat pocket, pushed the five dollar bill aside with his fingers, and pulled out a handful of quarters, nickels, and dimes. He counted out fourteen dollars, and then took out some change to make it up.The person on duty stacks the coins into neat piles, and then sweeps them into the corresponding boxes in the drawer by: "You know," he said, closing the drawer; looking at Andy hopefully; "I'll take five bucks off your room if you fix the vending machine for me. It's been broken for a week .” Andy walked to the machine in the corner, looked at it pretendingly, and then walked back. "Not our product," he said. "Oh, fuck. Well, good night, buddy, if you need another blanket you can find it in the closet." "Okay. " He walks out of the house.The creaking of the gravel beneath his feet was horribly amplified in his ears, sounding like he was chewing stone porridge.He walked up to the bushes.He had left Charlie here just now, and now she was gone. "Charlie?" No one agreed.He kept flipping the room key with the long green plastic tag between his hands.His hands suddenly became sweaty. "Charlie?" Still no answer.He started back to 100 million.Now he seems to remember that the car that passed the door when he was filling out the registration card for the residence seemed to have slowed down.Maybe it was a green car. His heart began to beat wildly, sending bursts of pain into his head.He tried to think what he would do if Charlie disappeared, but he couldn't think, his head hurt so much, he— There was a low snoring sound from deep in the bushes.He was all too familiar with the voice.Andy ran toward the sound, gravel splashing under his feet.Branches of hard evergreen scraped at his legs and tugged at the hem of his jacket. Charlie was lying on her side on the edge of the hotel lawn; her knees were waxed up almost to her chin, her hands between her legs.She is fast asleep.Andy stood with his eyes closed for a moment, then he shook Charlie awake: he wished this was the last time the long night would wake her. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she looked up at him. "Dad?" she asked in a vague voice, still half asleep, "I hid."Like you said. " "I know, dear," he said. "I know you're hiding. Well, we're going to bed. Twenty minutes later, they were all lying on the double bed in Room 16; Charlie fell into a deep sleep, breathing evenly; Andy was still awake, but he had gradually fallen asleep, but the head continued to twitch. The pain still haunted him.And those questions. They have been on the run for about a year.It's unbelievable; maybe because it didn't look like a flight; when he was running weight-loss classes in Porter City, Pennsylvania, they weren't living like a flight, and Charlie was Start school - when you have a job and your daughter is going to first grade, can you say you're on the run?In Porter City they were nearly caught: not because of how good the men were (although Andy was horrified by their tenacious persistence), but because Andy made a fatal mistake—he He even allowed himself to temporarily forget that they were fugitives. Now he will never make such a mistake again. How far are they now?Still in New York City?Then he could only assume that they hadn't copied the number plate of that taxi; they were still on the trail.More likely they were in Albany, crawling like maggots over a pile of meat scraps.When is Hastings Glen?Maybe it's morning.But maybe not.Hastings Glen is fifteen miles from the airport.There is no need to let hallucinations disturb your sanity. I deserve it!I deserved to run in front of the car!Who told me to set that person on fire! His own voice replied: It could have been worse.It could have been his face. The murmur of voices in the haunted room. Something else came to mind, he must be driving a Vega.If the man on duty hadn't seen a Vega parked in front of Room 16 in the morning, would he have thought the United Sales Company man was lying?Will he get to the bottom of it?But now there was nothing he could do.He was completely worn out. I think this guy is kind of weird.He looked pale and sickly.And he paid the bill with coins.He said he worked for a vending machine company, but he couldn't fix the cigarette machine in the lobby. The murmur of voices in the haunted room. He turned and lay on his side, listening to Charlie's slow, even breathing: he thought they had her; but she just hid further in the bushes.Don't let people see 8 Charlene) Roberta McGee, since... um no, you're always Charlie.If they took you, Charlie, I don't know what I would do. The murmur of voices in the haunted room. And finally the voice of his roommate, Quincy, six years ago. Charlie was a year old then, and of course they already knew she wasn't like normal people.They've known since she was a week old.Vicki carried her to sleep with them on the big bed, because when she was sleeping in the small crib by herself, her pillow started... started to smolder.They took the crib away for good that night.In the midst of great, strange, unspeakable terror, they said not a word.The crib was hot enough to blister her face; she cried almost all night.The first year the house was like a madhouse.No sleep, only endless fear.If her bottles were late, there would be a fire in the wastebasket; once the curtains started spewing flames, if Vicky wasn't in the room at the time—the time she fell down the stairs that made him finally pick up the phone and dial Kun. oo.That day, she crawled around on the ground, climbed up the stairs with her hands and feet and then climbed down the same way. She did a very good job.Andy was looking after her that day; Vicky and a friend of hers went shopping at Sant's.She was hesitant to leave, and Andy almost had to throw her out the door.She looks too tired lately.So tired. There was a blank look in her eyes that reminded him of the wartime stories of exhaustion. He was reading a book in the living room, not far from the stairs.Charlie was climbing up and down.There is also a teddy bear on the stairs.He should have taken it, of course; but every time she climbed it, she walked around, so he let his guard down... as the seemingly normal life in Potter City let his guard down. When she climbed down for the third time, she tripped over the bear.Swish, bang, boom, she fell all the way to the bottom of the stairs, crying out of anger and fear.The stairs were carpeted and she didn't have a scrape—God always protects the drunks and the kids, that was Quincy's words, and it was the first time he consciously thought of Quincy that day—Andy rushed to pick him up She, with a lot of reassuring words to her, and a quick scan of her whole body, looking for signs of bleeding or dislocations or concussions.At this time—— That's when he felt it go through his body—the invisible, unbelievable death thunderbolt in his daughter's head.It felt like that heat wave you feel when you get too close to a fast-moving high-speed train on the platform in the middle of summer.A soft, silent thermal...and then the teddy bear caught fire, and the flames shot high.For a moment Andy stared through the flames into its black eyes, watching it char and black; Where the bear rolled down, flames began to spread across the carpet.Andy put his daughter down and ran to the fire extinguisher that hung on the wall next to the TV.He and Vicky never discussed what their daughter might do—andy wanted to talk about it sometimes, but Vicky wouldn't listen; No fire extinguisher has crept in without discussion, like the dandelion that creeps in at the turn of spring and summer.They didn't talk about what Charlie was able to do, but fire extinguishers were still in every room. He grabbed the fire extinguisher and rushed up the stairs, the smell of burnt carpet filling his nostrils. At this time, he still had time to think of the story he read when he was a child, "The Wonderful Life, by Jarome Bixby," about a child who used psychological terror to control his parents in a thousand ways to die. Nightmare—and no one knows... no one knows when the kid will go crazy. Charlie sat at the foot of the stairs whimpering. Andy flicked the switch on the fire extinguisher, sprayed foam on the spreading flames, and put it out.He picked up the teddy bear, whose fur was covered with foam.Andy took it down the stairs. He hated himself for doing it, but somehow he knew he had to— Rules had to be made, and she had to be taught a lesson.He stuffed the teddy bear into screaming Charlie's tear-stained (horrified face. Oh, you bloody bastard, he thought desperately, why don't you go to the kitchen and put a paring knife in her face A slash on the side? Mark her? His thoughts froze. Scars, yes. That's what he was going to do. Scars for his children. Brands for her psyche. "Do you like Teddy like this?" he growled.The bear was charred and black and still warm in his hand like two cooling coals. "You like Teddy burnt and never playing with you again, Charlie?" Charlie howled, her skin turned red.Pale, eyes filled with tears: "Dad! Teddy! Teddy!" "Yeah, Teddy," he said mournfully, "Teddy's burnt, Charlie. You burned Teddy. And if you burned Teddy, you burned Mommy. Dad. Now... Never do that again" He leaned over to her, but didn't pick her up or touch her; "Don't do that again because it's a bad thing! " "Dad—he couldn't bear to do more harm and terror anymore. He picked up Charlie and walked around in his arms until, after a long time, her weeping became irregular. Trembling and sobbing. When he looked at her again, she was asleep with her face on his shoulder. He put her on the sofa.Came to the kitchen, picked up the phone and called Quincy. Quincy didn't want to talk about it. It was 1975 and he was working for a major airline.Every Christmas he sent the McGee family a card with a postscript saying he was now vice president of mediation.When the workers who built the planes had problems, they went to Quincy.Quincy would help them with their problem-aloneness.Alienation, and perhaps a sense of humiliation in their jobs—so they don't go back to the production line and cause trouble.Then planes would never crash again, and the world would continue to be safe for democracy.For this, Quincy earns thirty-two thousand dollars a year, seventeen thousand more than Andy. "I don't feel guilty," he once wrote, "I feel pretty much on my own to keep America from falling. , this salary is very meager.” This is Quincy, as cynical as ever.Hilarious humor.But that day when the daughter was sleeping on the couch.When Andy called him from Ohio with the smell of burnt teddy bears and rugs in his nostrils, he didn't show his antics and humor. "I've heard some things. Andy didn't let him go so easily when Quincy found out he wasn't revealing something, he finally said, "But people tap phones sometimes, old man.Now is the era of Watergate. " "I was terrified," Andy said. "Vicky was terrified too. And Charlie was terrified too. What have you heard, Quincy? " "There was an experiment once upon a time with twelve men," said Quincy, "about six years ago. Do you remember?" "I remember," Andy replied bitterly. "Not many of the twelve are still alive. Last I heard it was four. Two of them got married. " “是的。”安迪说，但内心中感到越来越大的恐惧。只有四个人还活着？昆西在说什么？ “我听说其中一个人可以折断钥匙．关上门，而并不用手碰它们。”昆西尖细的声音通过二千公里的电话线传来，通过转换台，通过内华达。爱达荷。科罗拉多。伊阿华州的分线箱，远远地传来，飞越了上百万个地方的声音。 “是吗？”他问，竭力使自己的声音保持平静。他想到了维奇，有时她可以打开收音机或关上电视而根本不用走近它们—— 而且很明显维奇并没有意识到她在做这些事情。 “是的，这是真的。”昆西仍在说着，“他是一你怎么说？——有文件记录可以证明的．如果他做这些事太频繁的话，他会头疼，但他确实可以做到。他们把他关在了一个小屋子里一门是他打不开的，锁是他拧不断的。他们在他身上做试验。 让他柠断钥匙，让他反复关门，我听说他差点发疯了。 " “噢……我的……上帝。”安迪无力地说。 “他是我们为维护和平所做努力的一部分，所以如果他疯了根本算不了什么。”昆西继续说道，“他疯了，而两亿两千万美国人民却可以继续享受安全和自由。你明白吗？” “明白。”安迪低声道。 “那结了婚的两个人怎样呢？就他们所知并无异常。他们平静地生活在美国中部的某个州里，比如俄亥俄，也许一年要对他们进行二次检查。看看他们是否可以不经触摸就能拧断钥匙、关上门，或在当地小马戏团为慈善事业表演心灵感应的小把戏。幸运的是他俩不能做这类事情，是不是，安迪·安迪合上眼，闻着屋中烧焦布料的糊味。有时恰莉会打开冰箱门，往里看看，然后又爬开。如果维奇当时在熨衣服，她会看一眼冰箱门；那门就会自动关上一而维奇自己并没有意识到她在做什么令人奇怪的事。但又有些时候，这好像又不管用了。于是她只好放下熨斗；走过去关上冰箱门（或关上收音机，或打开电视）。维奇不能拧断钥匙；不能知道别人在想什么；不能飞； 也不能引着火或预测未来。她只不过有时能隔着整个房间把门关上；如此而已。“有时当她做完几件这佯的事后，安迪注意到她会抱怨自己头疼或胃疼，安迪布知道这是一种生理反应还是她的潜意识发出的警告。在她月经期间、维奇做这些事的能力似乎增强了些。、这些事很小，而且不太经常；所以安迪开始认为这都是正常的。至于他自己……，当然，他能够”推动”别人，使别人相信他所说的话。不知道该怎么称呼它）也许叫自我催眠更接近。而且他不能经常使用，因为这会引起他的头疼。大部分时间里，他完全忘记了自己并不完全正常；而且自从贾森·吉尔内大厅70房间里的那天起，他就从来没有正常过。 一他合上眼睛，在睫毛拢住的一片黑暗中，他看见了那片逗号形的血污和被它遮住的“脐体”。 “是的，很幸运。”昆西接着说道，好像安迪已表示了赞同，否则他们会把他俩关在两个小屋子里。在那儿，这些人在为维护两亿两千万美国人民的自由和安全而全职地工作着。 " “是很幸运。”安迪同意他说。 “至于那十二个人，”昆西说，“也许他们把一种自己也不很了解的药给了那十二个人。可能是某个人——某个疯大夫一一想故意误导他们。或者也许是他认为自己在误导他们而实际上是自己在被误导。这并不重要。” “是不重要。” “所以这些人服了药。也许药物使他们的染色体发生了一点变化、或很大变化。谁知道呢。也许其中有两个结了婚，决定要一个孩子，也许这孩子不仅仅继承了她的眼睛和他的嘴。他们是不是会对那个孩子产生兴趣呢？” “我打赌他们会的。”安迪说。恐惧已使他说话都困难了。他已经决定不把给昆西打过电话的事告诉维奇。 “就好比你有柠檬，很好吃；而且你有蛋汁，也很好吃，可当你把它们放在一起，你就会得到……一种全新口味的东西。我敢肯定他们想看看那个孩子能做什么。他们也许想把她带走关在一个小屋子里，看看这样是否有利于维护民主世界。我想这就是我要说的了，老伙计，只是……不要引人注意。” 鬼魂出没的房间里纷杂的说话声。 不要引人注意。 他在旅馆的枕头上转过头去看着仍在酣睡的恰莉。恰莉亲爱我们该怎么办呢？我们能到哪儿去而不被追踪呢？这一切该如何结束呢？ 所有这些问题总是找不到答案，终于，他睡着了，然而就在不远的地方，一辆绿色轿车在夜幕中巡行，仍然希望能够看见一个高个儿，宽肩、穿着灯芯绒夹克的男人和一个穿着绿衣红裤的金发小女孩。