Chapter 9 Chapter 5 Tasmore Virginia 2

Forty minutes passed; fifty minutes passed.Time flies so slowly.He was sweating; restlessness was eating away at his numb composure.Is that van really ahead?Maybe all this is his idea? Cars on the road chase each other.He saw two gray vans.But nothing like the one he'd seen prowling the lake front before.One of the cars was driven by an elderly man with white hair blowing in the wind.Another car was full of drugged hippies.The driver saw Andy's scrutinizing gaze and waved the marijuana butt in his hand to him.The girl sitting next to him kissed her middle finger and stretched it towards Andy.Soon, Andy's car left them behind.

His head started to hurt.The traffic on the road is crowded and the sun is shining brightly overhead.All the cars were plated with a layer of gold, and each streak of gold shot the sunlight like arrows into his eyes.A sign flashed out of the window saying, "One Mile Ahead of the Rest Area." His car has been in the fast lane.At this time, he turned on the indicator light on the right and turned into the slow lane.He slowed down to forty-five, then forty.A small sports car passed by, and the driver honked his horn dissatisfied with Andy. The sign says rest area.It's not a service station, just a turnoff with a small parking lot, a water tap and a toilet.Four stops here.Five cars and a van.He wants my van.Almost certainly.His heart started beating wildly in his chest.He swung the steering wheel and drove into the parking lot, the tires screeching.

He drove towards the truck slowly, looking around, trying to understand the surrounding situation as soon as possible.Two families sat around two picnic tables, and one of them was packing to go.The mother puts leftovers into a bright yellow shopping bag, and the father and two children are picking up discarded clutter and throwing them in the trash.At another table a young couple is eating a sandwich and potato salad with a baby asleep in a stroller between them.The child wears a pair of corduroy trousers with a print of dancing elephants.Under two beautiful tall old elm trees, two girls about twenty years old were sitting on the grass having lunch.There was no sight of Charlie, nor of the muscular young man who might have been an Ittar agent.

Andy turned off the engine.He could feel the dilation of blood vessels in his eyes.The van looked empty.He got out of the car. An old woman on crutches came out of the toilet and walked slowly towards an old car.An old man about her age came out of the cab, walked around the front of the car, opened the door for her, and helped her into the car.He got back in the cab and started the car, a puff of blue oily fumes from the exhaust pipe, and the car pulled away from the park. The men's room door opened and Charlie came out.The person tucking her to the left and right is about thirty years old, wearing a sportswear, open-necked shirt, and dark double-knit trousers.Charlie's face was blank and frightened.She looked at one person, then at another, and then returned to the first person's face.Andy's internal organs and six lungs were all stirred.

She is still carrying her round schoolbag.They come to the van.Charlie said something to a man who shook his head.She turned to the other man, who shrugged and said something to his partner.He nodded.They turned and walked toward the drinking fountain. Andy's heart beat faster and faster, and adrenaline flowed into his body.He was frightened, very frightened, but something sustained him from within: anger, fury.Fury was better than calm, almost sweet to him.These were the two men who had killed his wife and taken his daughter, and he would have pitied them if they had not been crucified.

Andy got out of the car and walked to the back of the van while they and Charlie turned their backs to him and walked toward the drinking fountain. The family of four who had just finished eating walked towards two brand new mid-size Fords.on them: Get out of the car and drive out of the parking lot. The mother gave Andy an indifferent look, like the eyes people give each other on a long-distance trip on the extensive road network of the United States.The car drove away, and the license plate told people: It's from Michigan.There were three cars left in the rest area, the van and Andy's van.One of the cars belonged to the two girls.Two other men were loitering nearby.The man at the information desk was looking at a map with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

Andy didn't know exactly what he was going to do. Charlie finished her water.One of the agents also leaned over and took a sip.Then they turned and walked toward the van.Andy watched them from the left rear corner of the van.Charlie looked terrified, terrified, she had cried.Andy tried to open the back door of the van, not knowing why.But it didn't work: the door was locked. He jumped out from behind the car. Their response is very fast.Even excitement flooded Charlie's face.They recognized him before driving away her daze and fear. "Daddy!" Charlie screamed.The cry made the couple with their children turn their heads.A girl sitting under an elm shaded the sun with her hand was also looking this way and it looked like Charlie was about to charge at him.A person grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her back, almost knocking off the schoolbag on her shoulder.Blink asked a gun appeared in his hand.He was pulling it out from somewhere under the sweatshirt, like a magician doing a trick.He put the gun to Charlie's temple.

The other man began to walk away from Charlie and his partner at a leisurely pace, and gradually approached Andy.His hands were in his clothes, but his tricks were no longer as good as his partner's; he seemed to have a slight problem drawing his gun. "If you don't want anything to happen to your daughter, get away from the car," said the one with the gun. "Dad!" Charlie called again. Andy walked away from the car slowly.The other guy (who was balding before he was too old) finally got his gun out. He pointed it at Andy. He was within fifty feet of Andy. "I sincerely recommend that you Don't move." He whispered, 'This revolver could put a big hole in you.'

The young man sitting at the picnic table with his wife and children stood up, looking stern in his rimless glasses. "What the hell is going on here?" he asked in the clear, penetrating voice of a college teacher. The man who was holding Charlie turned towards him, moved the muzzle of the gun away from Charlie's head and threatened him, "It's government business. Stay where you are; nothing happens." The young man's wife took him by the arm and pulled him back into the chair. Andy looked at the bald agent, softly.Said kindly: "That gun is too hot, I can't hold it."

The bald man looked at him, a little puzzled.Then, suddenly screaming, he threw the revolver to the ground.The gun went off on the concrete floor.A girl under the elms uttered a sound of confusion.A cry of surprise.The bald man held his hand and bounced back and forth, and fresh white blisters appeared on the palm, like fermented flour. The agent next to Charlie stared dumbfounded at his partner, and for a moment the gun had completely left Charlie's little head. "You're blind," Andy told him, giving him as hard a push as he could. Andy's brain throbbed.The man screamed suddenly, and he let go of Charlie, covering his eyes with his hands.

"Charlie," Andy whispered; the daughter threw herself on him, wrapping trembling hands around his legs.The guy from the information desk ran out to see what was wrong. Baldy charged at Andy and Charlie holding his burned hand.His face was hideous and terrifying. "Go to bed." Andy said succinctly, and gave another "push".The bald man fell straight down as if struck by an axe, hitting his forehead hard on the pavement.The wife of the stern young man groaned. Andy's head was hurting badly; he was vaguely glad it was summer, because he hadn't used his psychic powers since May, even to help a student whose grades had somehow slipped.He was ready—but if he wasn't, God knew he'd pay for what he'd done that hot afternoon. The blind man lay on the grass, covering his face with his hands and wailing.He hit a trash can and fell over a pile of overturned sandwich bags.beer cans.Cigarette butts and empty soda bottle on top. "Oh, Daddy, I was so scared just now," said Charlie, crying. "The car is over there, see?" Andy heard himself say, "Get in the car, I'll be there soon." "Is mom there?" "She's not here. Get in the car first, Charlie." He couldn't handle it just yet.Now.He had to deal with these witnesses. "What's going on here?" The person who came out of the Interim Office asked a little at a loss. "My eye," wailed the man who had just pointed the gun at Charlie's head, "my eye, my eye. What have you done to my eye, you brute?" He got up, a sandwich bag hanging in one of his hands.He started to stagger toward the information desk, and the man in jeans suddenly backed into the room. "Go, Charlie." "Will you come, Dad?" "Yes, right now: let's go now." Charlie left, her blond braids were bouncing on her shoulders, and her schoolbag was still slung across her shoulders. Andy walked past the sleeping ETA agent, thinking about whether to take his gun, but finally decided it was better not to take it.He walked over to the couple sitting at the picnic table.Gently, he said to himself, relax, don't overdo it, make sure you don't hurt these people. The young woman roughly grabbed her baby from the car.The child woke up with a start and began to cry. "Don't come here, you madman!" she said. Andy looked at the man and his wife. "None of these things matter," he said, 'pushing' in his head. The new pain was like a spider grabbing his head from the back of his head...and invading. The young man looked relieved: "Oh, thank God." His wife smiled hesitantly.She hadn't quite taken Andy's word for it yet; her motherhood was aroused. "Your baby is so cute," said Andy. "It's a boy, isn't it?" The blind man stepped off the curb and slammed forward, hitting his head hard on the door of what might have been the two girls' car.He roared, and blood gushed from his temples. "I can't see!" he screamed again. The young woman's hesitant smile had grown bright.So yes, it's a boy. She said, "His name is Michael." "Hello, Michael," Andy said.He stroked the child's almost hairless head. "I don't understand why he is crying," said the young woman. "He was sleeping soundly just now. He must be hungry." "That's right" definitely is. said her husband. "Goodbye." Andy walked towards the information desk.Hurry up now, someone will come to see this farce at any time. "What's going on, buddy?" said the man in denim, "Is it a drunkard?" "No. There's nothing wrong with it." Andy said, "push" gently again.He was feeling very sick now and had headaches. "Oh," said the man, "that's good. I was just trying to see how to get to Melancholy Falls from here. Excuse me." He walked slowly back to the information desk. The two girls had retreated to the security fence that separated the rest area from the private farm outside.They stared at him with wide eyes.The blind man was now shuffling in circles on the pavement, with his hands stretched stiffly forward, weeping and cursing. Andy walked slowly towards the two girls, his hands pushed forward to show that he was unarmed.He started talking to them.A girl asked him a question.So he went on talking.Soon, both girls smiled and nodded in relief.Andy waved to them, and they saluted back.Then he hurried across the grass to his. car.Beads of sweat covered his forehead, and his stomach was churning violently.He could only hope that no one would drive in before he and Charlie left, because there was nothing he could do.He's all broken.He climbed into the cab and turned on the engine. cried Daddy/Charlie, throwing herself into his arms and burying her face in his chest as he hugged her quickly and drove away from the parking lot where it hurt to move his neck It was unbearable. The black horse, the metaphor he would often think of afterwards. He had released the black horse from some dark stable in his subconscious, and now it was going on a rampage in his brain again. He had to find something for them. place and lie down. be quick.He is no longer capable of driving for long periods of time. "The dark horse," he murmured.It's coming, no... no, it's not coming; it's already here.Da... da... da, yes, it has arrived, it is free. "Dad, watch out!" Charlie called. The blind man was stumbling past the car and Andy slammed on the brakes.The man thumped the hood of the car with his hands, screaming for help.To their right, the young mother has begun to nurse her baby, and her husband is reading a book.The man at the information desk had gone to the two girls.Start chatting with them.The bald man sprawled on the ground, sleeping soundly. Another agent kept tapping on the hood. "Help me!" he yelled, "I can't see! I don't know what that beast has done to my eyes! I can't see!" "Dad." Charlie moaned. For a moment of madness, he almost stepped on the gas pedal.In his aching mind, he could hear the sound of the tires and feel the muffled sound of the wheels rolling over the body.This man kidnapped Charlie; put a gun on her.Maybe he's the one who stuffed the rags into Vicky's mouth so she couldn't scream when he" = pulled out her nails. Ah, how good it would be to kill him... but if so, what is the difference between him and those beasts? So he honked the horn, which caused another sharp headache.The blind man jumped away from the car as if he had been stung.Andy spun the steering wheel and drove past him.The last thing he saw in the rearview mirror was the blind man sitting on the sidewalk, his face twisted in anger and fear... and the young mother lifting Michael on her shoulders and patting him on the back. He drove the car into the traffic without even looking.The horn blared; the tires screeched.A big Lincoln drove around the car, the driver angrily pumping his fists at them. "Dad, are you okay?" "I'll be fine," he said.The voice seemed to be coming from far away, "Charlie, look at the toll ticket saying where the next exit is." The vehicle in front of him blurred.It became two, trembling, then merged into one, and floated again into colorful parts.The eyes are full of the sun's golden and dazzling light. "Fasten your seatbelt, Charlie." The next exit was Hammersmith, twenty miles away, and somehow he made it.Then he thought it was just because he realized that Charlie was sitting next to him, that Charlie was counting on him, that Charlie had kept him going—Charlie was here, she needed him.Charlie McGee, her parents had once asked for two hundred dollars. There is a hotel in Hammersmith.Andy managed to get a room under a false name, with specific instructions to keep it off the main road. "They'll come after you, Charlie," he said. "I need some sleep. But only till evening. We can't stay much longer. Wake me up when it's dark." She said something else, but he was on the bed.Everything around him faded into a gray dot; then even that disappeared, leaving only the darkness beyond which the pain could reach him.No pain and no dreams.When Charlie woke him at about a quarter past seven that hot August evening, the room was stuffy and his clothes were drenched with sweat.She tried to turn on the air conditioner but didn't know how to use the switch. "It's all right," he said.He rocked out of bed, put his hands to his temples, and squeezed his head hard to keep it from exploding. "Are you feeling better, Daddy?" she asked eagerly. "Better," he said.It's really...just a little, "We'll stop for something to eat while we're on the road. That'll be better" "Where are we going?" He shook his head slowly.All he had was the money he had with him when he left the house in the morning—about sixteen dollars.He had his own credit card, but he paid for the room with the two twenty-dollar bills he always kept in the back of his wallet (sometimes he joked to Vicky that it was my runaway money, so horribly fulfilled) instead of credit cards.Using a credit card is tantamount to writing a sign: The university teacher and his daughter escaped here.They could also use the sixteen dollars to buy some food and fill up the car once.Then they are penniless. "I don't know, Charlie," he said, "just gotta go." "Then when are we going to see Mom?" Andy looked up at her, his headache intensifying again.He thought about the blood, the blood on the floor and the washing machine.He smelled polish. "Charlie—" he broke off.But there is no need to say it. She stared at him, her eyes widening; her hand covered her trembling lips. "Oh no, Dad...please tell me it's not true.? "Charlie--" She hissed, "Please tell me it's not true!" "Charlie, those people—" "Please say she's okay. Please, please say she's okay!" It was stuffy in the room, yes, the air conditioner was not turned on, but it was too hot these days, his head hurt badly, sweat rolled down his forehead, and now it was not cold sweat but hot, like oil, it was too hot—— "No," Charlie said, "no, no, no, no, no." She shook her head painfully.The pigtails wobbled back and forth, reminding him absurdly of the first time he and Vicky took her to the amusement park, the carousel— It wasn't because the air conditioner wasn't on. "Charlie!" he yelled. "Charlie, the bathtub! There's water!" She screamed and turned her head to the open bathroom door.There was a sudden blue flash from within, as if a light bulb had exploded.The twisted, blackened shaggy head fell from the wall into the tub with a thud, and pieces of blue tile were crumbling to pieces. Charlie fell forward crying, and he almost missed her. "Dad, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" "It's okay." He said tremblingly, holding her in his arms.In the bathroom, there was a puff of smoke from the molten bathtub, and all the tile surfaces were immediately covered with a cracked smoke glaze.It was as if the whole bathroom had been baked in a kiln of mighty but ineffective use, and the towels were smoldering too. "It's okay." He held her in his arms and rocked her gently, "Charlie, it's okay, everything will be fine, I promise, everything will be fine." "I miss Mom." She sobbed. He nodded.He misses her too.He hugged Charlie tightly to his chest, his nostrils filled with the smell of burning.She nearly baked the tiles and towels in the bathroom. "Everything will be fine." He shook Charlie gently, telling her something he didn't believe.But it is a prayer, a hymn, a call to a child in misery from a grown man who has traveled the journey of life.It's the cure for your wounded soul; it's a lamp in the dark that won't drive out the devil in the corner, but it will keep you from it for a while; it's a voice that speaks though it's powerless . "It's going to be okay. He's saying things to her that he doesn't really believe; like all grown-ups, he knows deep down that nothing's ever really perfect, 'Everything's going to be okay. " He cried, and he hugged Charlie desperately, letting the finally unbearable tears roll down "Charlie, I swear to you, everything will be fine." Perhaps they had been tempted to blame Vicki for his death, but hadn't. Instead, they decided to wipe out all incriminating evidence in the laundry room.It's less hassle for them.Sometimes—but not often—Andy wondered what their Lakeside neighbors would guess?Family spending conflicts?marital problems?Maybe drug use or child abuse?They don't have any close friends on Taiga Avenue, so these will only be people's gossip.Nine days later, when the bank repossessed the house and let it out again, what little curiosity they had would evaporate. Now Andy sat on the platform, staring at the boundless darkness.Maybe he was luckier that day than he knew.He doesn't make it back in time to rescue Vicky, but leaves just in time before the recovery team arrives. There was not a single word about it in the papers, not even a short note about the sudden disappearance of an English teacher named Andrew McGee and his whole family.Maybe Ita was pushing things down.Someone had certainly reported him missing to the police; anyone who had lunch with him that day might have done so.But that doesn't explain why the newspapers and the creditors didn't respond in the slightest. "If possible, they will push the matter on me." He said unconsciously. But they didn't.The coroner could check the time of death, and Andy, who had been with some unbiased third party all day that day, could not have been charged with murder.Moreover, even if he could not provide strong evidence of his activities during that period, he had no motive for committing the crime. So the two men killed Vicky, and hurried to find Charlie - but did not forget to inform the recovery team (in Andy's mind, he even saw those young men in white coats. people).It might only be five minutes, but certainly no more than an hour, after he had hurriedly driven to find Charlie, before the recovery team would be at his door.As Taiga Avenue drowsy in the afternoon sun, Vicky was carried away. They probably also thought—and in this they were quite right—that a missing wife would cause Andy more trouble than a dead one.Without a body, "there's no estimated time of death: no estimated time of death, no alibi. He'll be watched. He'll be guarded by the police so there's no possibility of sneaking away. So she's carried away, and now He didn't even know where she was buried. Maybe she was cremated, maybe— Oh hell what do you want to torture yourself for? He jumped to his feet, pouring the rest of the gin over the railing of the platform was a thing of the past; Life is just a joke if you can let it go. He looked up at the hazy black tree shadow in the distance, clutching the glass tightly in his right hand, and remembered for the first time what he had said to Charlie. Charlie, I swear to you, everything will be fine. This winter at Tesmore Pond.His premonition seemed to come true when he was at a loss. It has not been an idyllic winter for them.Shortly after Christmas, Charlie came down with a cold and a stuffy nose.Cough, it doesn't get better until early April.For a while she also had a high fever.Andy gave her half an aspirin, and secretly thought that if her high fever didn't subside within three days, he would have to take her to the doctor in Bradford, on the shore of the lake, whatever the consequences.However, her fever did subside afterwards.For the rest of the winter, Charlie only had a cold now and then.Andy had chilblains for the first time in his life in March; and in February a cold wind howled.On an extremely cold night, he put so much firewood in the stove that it nearly burned both of them to death.Unexpectedly, it was Charlie who woke up at night to find that the house was too hot. On December fourteenth they celebrated his birthday, and on March twenty-fourth they celebrated Charlie's, who was eight years old.Sometimes Andy would stare at her with a sort of wonder. It was as if seeing her for the first time.She wasn't a little girl anymore; she was taller than his arms.Her hair has grown again, and now she likes to braid it; it keeps her eyes out of the way.She will turn out to be a beauty.She already is, including that little red nose. There were triple pairs of cross-country skis in the shed behind the villa, but none of them fit Charlie.It was also good that Andy kept her indoors as much as possible.It didn't matter if she was colder, but he didn't dare to risk her fever anymore. In a cardboard box under the same table where Grandpa used to work as a carpenter, Andy found a pair of Grandpa's old ski boots, covered in dust and cracks.Andy oiled them and tightened them, only to still find that to fit Grandpa's shoes he had to stuff newspaper in the front.It was a little ridiculous, but he also felt a little ominous.During this long winter, he often thought of his grandfather, wondering what he would do in such a predicament. Six times he put on his cross-country skis and crossed the wide ice of Tasmore Pond to the Bradford town jetty on the opposite bank.From there, a winding path leads to the hilly village two miles east of the lake. He always set off with Grandpa's backpack before first light and never came back before three o'clock in the afternoon.Once he was nearly caught on the ice in a snowstorm.When he got home, Charlie burst into tears of relief...followed by a long, violent cough. Went to Bradford to buy food and clothes for him and Charlie.He had grandpa's private money in his hands; later he sneaked into the three larger camps beyond Taishi Mota Pond and stole some money.There was nothing honorable about it; but it seemed to him that it was survival.The camps he chose were the ones on the real estate market for $80,000 apiece, so he wanted to lose three.Forty dollars shouldn't be much to those homeowners.The only other thing he carried that winter was a large barrel of fuel kerosene, which was at the back of a strangely large modern villa called Camp Chaos. He didn't like going to Bradford.He knew that the old men sitting around the big stove by the cash register were talking about him as a stranger in a camp somewhere across the lake.He didn't like that.Stories always get told, sometimes to ears that shouldn't be hearing them. A little circumstance--just a whisper--would make Ita take Andy.his grandpa. Inevitably linked to his grandpa's cottage in Furmont Tasmore.But he didn't know what to do.They want to eat, but they can't eat canned fish all winter. He wanted to buy fresh fruit, vitamin pills and clothes for Charlie.Charlie arrived with only a dirty shirt, red trousers and shorts.No cold medicine he could trust, no fresh vegetables, and ridiculously few matches.Every camp he sneaked into had a stove, but he had only ever found a box of matches. : There were many other camps and villas, and he could have gone further, but those areas were often patrolled by Tasmore police.And there are always at least one or two long-term residents on those roads. In the department store in Bradford he bought everything he wanted, including three pairs of thick trousers and three woolen shirts for Charlie.There were no women's shorts, so she had to wear the smallest men's shorts.This makes her feel sometimes annoying and sometimes very happy. The six-mile walk to Bradford on grandpa's skis was both a burden and a joy for Andy.He didn't want to leave Charlie alone, not that he didn't trust her, but that he was always worried that when he came back he would find her gone...or dead. No matter how many pairs of socks he wears, this pair!The boots still left him with blisters.If he tried to go too fast, his head would throb, and he would think of the places on his face that used to feel numb, and imagine his brain as an old tire with the tread worn out , Some parts of the tire have exposed the canvas surface due to excessive use.What if in this lake he had a sudden stroke and fell to the ground, and ended up freezing to death" What would Charlie do? But it is also on these short journeys that he can think very calmly.The silence around him made his mind clear and quick.Tasmore Pond itself wasn't very wide—Andy was less than a mile from west to east—but it was very long.Snow on the ice can be as deep as four feet in February.Sometimes he would stop halfway and slowly look left and right. The surface of the lake now appeared to be a long passageway of dazzling white tiles--clean, unbroken, stretching in either direction until it disappeared from view.Surrounded by pine forests covered in silver.Overhead, is the winter stereotype.Severe and dazzling blue sky.In the distance, sometimes the crowing of crows, or the cracking of ice, can be heard, but otherwise there is silence.This movement exercises his body.There's a warm layer of sweat seeping between your skin and your clothes - it's nice to work yourself up and wipe it off your brow. , in Prof. Yeats.Williams's poetry, the days of grading homework, he has forgotten this wonderful feeling. In this stillness, in this movement to strengthen himself, his thoughts became very clear.It was also here that he pondered the pressing issues.Something should have been done—something should have been done long ago, but that was a thing of the past.They spent the winter at Grandpa's dacha, but they're still on the run.Those sitting around the fire smoking their pipes.The uneasiness of old men blinking nosy eyes was enough for him to face the fact.He and Charlie were cornered, and they had to find their way out. And he still feels aggrieved because it's all undeserved.They have no rights.His family, all American citizens, lived in a supposedly enlightened society; while his wife was murdered and his daughter kidnapped, the two of them were like rabbits being hunted over a fence. He wondered again if he could tell someone—or people—what happened to them so that the truth would come out.He hadn't done it before because, at least in part, that psychology—the same psychology that had led to Vicky's death—had always been there.He didn't want his daughter to grow up like a freak at a fair; he didn't want her locked up—neither for the good of the country nor for her own.And the worst part is that he has been lying to himself.Even when he saw his wife stuffed in the ironing closet in the laundry room with a towel in her mouth, he kept telling himself that sooner or later those people would let them go.It's just for fun, they used to say that when I was playing games when I was young, and everyone will return the money in the end. It's just that they weren't kids anymore, and they weren't just there for fun; and nobody gave him and Charlie anything back after the game was over.In this game, the winner has the right to keep his loot. In the silence, he began to comprehend some brutal truths.From a certain point of view, Charlie is indeed a deformity, like those alimbs born to mothers who have taken DES.It wasn't Charlie's fault, but facts were facts.Except that she was "okay," he said, stroking her hair.An ominous fear suddenly rose in his throat, and something happened in this neighborhood that he had not thought of for many years suddenly appeared before him.him and dad.Grandpa went hunting in the forest together.He clamored for Grandpa's 22 pistol, and Grandpa agreed.Andy saw a squirrel and wanted to kill it.Dad started to object, but Grandpa stopped him with a weird smile. Andy aimed at the squirrel the way his grandpa taught him and hit it.It rolled down the tree like a stuffed toy.Andy returned the gun to Grandpa and ran excitedly towards his loot.As he got closer, he was stunned by what he saw.Up close, the squirrel was no longer a stuffed toy, it was alive, and he hit it in the rear.Dying it lay in its own blood, black eyes awake, still alive but full of terrible pain.The fleas on it had sensed the truth of the disaster, and they were hurriedly evacuating from it in three teams. His throat choked; at the age of nine, Andy had his first taste of the sharpness of self-loathing.The taste of pain.He stared blankly at his own sordid kill, feeling his father and grandfather standing behind him; Only murdered squirrels.behind. Grandpa gently said, You have already done it, Andy, what do you think? Tears flowed down, making him unable to help himself—hot tears after fear and understanding of the truth: what has been done is irreversible .Suddenly he swore he would never kill anything with a gun again.He swore an oath before God. Charlie said, I'm never going to light a fire again.In his head, Andy heard what Grandpa had said to him the day he shot that squirrel and swore before God never to do anything like it again.Never say that again, Andy.God loves to make a man break his promise.It will make him realize how small he is in the world and how limited his self-control is.How similar it was to what Yves Mendes said to Charlie. 恰莉在阁楼上发现了一整套连环画，正在慢慢消化着它们。 安迪凝视着她：她正坐在一张古老的黑色摇椅中，沐浴在灰蒙蒙的阳光下；以前他祖母经常坐在那儿，手里总是拿着一篮针线活。他心中有种冲动想让她把刚才的话收回，在还来得及的时候把话收回；他想告诉恰莉她并不了解那可怕的诱惑：如果枪放在那里的时间已经太长，迟早有一天你会再次拾起它的。 上帝喜欢让一个人违背自己的诺言。 除了查理·佩森没人看见安迪寄出了他的信。佩森是十一月搬到布莱德福的，打那以后就一直致力于振兴“点子商店”。佩森是个小个子，长着一张愁苦的脸。一次安迪到镇上来时，他曾试图请安迪喝一杯。镇上，人们都认为如果在明年夏天佩森的努力仍无结果的话，那点子商店在九月十五日就又会在窗子里挂上那张写着出售或出租的牌子。他是个挺不错的人，但却在干一件没什么希望的事。布莱德福已是大大地今不如昔了。 安迪沿着街道向百货商店走去——他把滑雪板插在了通往码头的那条路的雪地上。屋子里，那些老人带春不太过分的好奇注视着他。那个冬天关于安迪的闲聊可不算少。大家一致认为这人出于某种原因正在出逃——也许是破产，也许是离婚协议问题，也许他有个被骗走了孩子监护权的愤怒的妻子——他们并没有忽略安迪买的那些小衣服。大家还一致同意他和那孩子也许溜进了池塘对面的某个营地，正在那里过冬。没人把这个情况报告给布莱德福的治安官，一个只在镇上住了十二年就以为自己是这儿主人的家伙。那个人从湖对岸来，从弗芒特的泰士摩。围坐在火炉边的老人们对弗芒特人的生活方式很不以为然。他们的个人所得税。禁酒令，还有个混帐俄国人像个沙皇似地住在那里，写些没人看得懂的书。即使没人说出来，大家也一致认为应该让弗芒特人去处理他们自己的麻烦事。 “他不会再在湖上走多长时间了。”其中一个人说道。他啃了一口自己的糖棍开始嚼起来。 “除非他给自己弄个游泳圈。”另一个说道。Everyone laughed. “我们快见不到他了。”杰克在安迪走近商店时说。安迪当时穿着爷爷的一件旧大衣，戴着蓝色的羊毛护耳；也许是他看上去太像爷爷了，一种似曾相识的神情闪现在杰克眼中，转瞬即逝。 “冰面开始融化时，他就会收拾东西离开的。还有那个和他在一起的人。” 安迪在屋外停下，从肩上甩下背包拿出几封信，然后走了进来。聚集在屋内的人开始仔细地检查起自己的指甲。手表和那个炉子来。其中一个掏出一块硕大的蓝色印花手帕，向里面大声地咳嗽起来。 安迪环视四周，说道：“早上好，各位。” “早上好。”杰克·罗雷说，“需要什么吗？” “你这儿卖邮票，对吗？” “是的。政府还给了我这个权利。” “那请给我拿六张十五美分的。” 杰克拿出一个大黑本子，从里面的一版邮票上撕下六张： “今天还要些别的东西吗？” 安迪想了想，微微笑了。今天是三月十日。他没有回答杰克的问话，径直走到咖啡器旁边的明信卡架子旁，挑了一张华丽的大生日贺卡。上面写着：在这特殊的日子，祝福你，女儿。他拿着它走回柜台付了帐。 “谢谢。”杰克说着把钱记人收款机。 “不客气。”安迪说着走出了商店。他们看着他戴好护耳，把邮票一张张贴上。天气很冷，他的鼻孔里呼出阵阵白气，他们看见他绕过大楼（邮筒就在大楼的另一侧）；但这些坐在炉边的人没有一个能证明安迪是否确实寄出了那几封信。当这些人再次看见他时，他正在往肩上背背包。 “他走了。”一个老人说道。 “挺有礼貌的一个人。”杰克以此话结束了这一话题。大家开始谈论起其它事来。 查尔斯·佩森站在他小店的门洞里看着安迪离开；整整一个冬天，小店的营业额只有三百美元。佩森可以证明那些信确实寄出了；他站在这儿正好看见安迪把它们一起塞进了邮筒。 当安迪的身影消失在道路尽头时，佩森走回房间，穿过他平时卖小食品杂货的柜台来到起居室。他的电话装有一个秘密装置。佩森拨通弗吉尼亚请求指示。 新罕布什尔州的布荣德福过去没有。现在也没有邮局（在这点上，弗芒待的泰士摩也一样）；这两个镇都大小了。离布莱德福最近的邮局在泰勒市。在三月十日这天下午一点十五分，一辆从泰勒市开来的邮局小卡车停在了布莱德福百货商店外面。邮递员将邮筒中的信取了出来。邮件包括安迪的六封信和一位叫谢利·第瓦小姐的老处女给她在佛罗里达谭帕城的妹妹寄出的明信片。 湖对面，安迪·麦克吉正在小睡而恰莉·麦克吉正在堆一个雪人。 邮递员罗伯特·埃佛赖特将邮件放人一个包中，然后把包扔进他蓝白两色的卡车里，接着驶向下一个泰勒市邮政编号区之内的小镇——威廉姆斯。然后他在威廉姆斯镇居民戏称为主要大街的小路中间掉头驶回泰勒市。在那里所有的邮件都将被分类并在当天下午三点钟左右全部送出。离小镇五英里的地方，一辆浅色雪佛兰轿车横停在路上，将两条狭窄车道全都堵住了。埃佛赖特停下车走了出来想看看自己是否帮得上忙。 车上的两个人向他走来。他们出示了证件并说明了自己的意图“不行！”埃佛赖特叫道。他有点想笑：这太令人难以置了，就像有人刚告诉他这天下午他们要在泰士摩湖上破冰游泳样。 “如果你怀疑我们的身份……”其中一人说道。这是奥威力贾明森，有时也叫奥贾，还有时叫果汁。他可不在乎和这个乡·邮递员打交道；只要任务没把他派到那小魔女身边三英里之内他什么都不在乎。 “不，不是这么回事；根本不是这么回事。”罗伯特·埃佛。 特说道。他被吓坏了，就像所有第一次面对政府武装力量的人一样。但他仍就打定了主意，“但是我车上装的是邮件。美国邮寄你们必须明白这一点。” “这事关国家安全。”奥贾说。黑斯廷斯·格兰那场惨败之后他们在曼德斯农场周围设立了一道保护线。附近地带和房子的废墟都被仔细检查过，像用梳子滤过一般。所以奥贾又找回了他的“追风”；现在“追风”就舒舒服服地靠在他的左胸上。 “你是这样说，但这理由并不充分。”埃佛赖特说。 奥贾解开了上衣钮扣，向埃佛赖特露出他的“追风”。埃佛赖特的眼睛张大了；奥贾微微一笑：“你当然不希望我动用这个，是不是？” 埃佛赖特简直不相信这是真的。他做了最后一次努力：“你们知道抢劫美国邮件判什么罪吗？他们会把你们关进堪萨斯的里文握斯。” “你回泰勒市后可以跟你的邮局局长解释清楚。”另一个人首次开口说道，“好了，不要再磨磨蹭蹭了，行不行？把市外小镇的邮包给我们。“埃佛赖特把布莱德福和威廉姆斯镇的小邮包递给他。他们就在路上打开了邮包在里面翻找着。罗伯特·埃佛赖特怒火中烧，而且感到一阵羞愧。即使这里有原子弹的机密，他们这样做也是不对的。在路边强行打开美国邮件，这是不对的。可笑的是他现在的感觉就像是有一个陌生人闯进他的家扒下了他妻子的衣服一样。 “你们等着瞧吧。”他用惊恐、窒息的声音说，“会有你们好看的。” “它们在这儿。”那个人对奥贾说，把六封用同一种认真笔迹写的信递给他。罗伯特·埃佛赖特很容易就认出了它们。这是布莱德福百货商店旁边那个邮筒里的。奥贾把信装进自己的口袋，然后两个人就让邮袋敞着搁在地上，自己朝汽车走去。 “你们等着瞧吧！”埃佛赖特用颤抖的声音叫道。 奥贾头也不回他说：“如果你不想丢掉退休金，就在跟别人谈之前先跟你的局长聊聊。” They drove away.埃佛赖特看着他们离开，满怀愤怒。恐惧和厌恶。最后他拣起邮包把它扔回卡车。 “被抢劫了。”他说着，并且惊奇地发现自己哭了，“被抢劫了，我被抢劫了。见他妈的鬼，我被抢劫了。” 他以泥泞道路所允许的最快速度开回泰勒市。像那人建议的那样，他首先找到了局长。泰勒市的邮局局长是比尔·高汉姆； 埃佛赖特在他办公室里呆了一个多小时，有时，办公室门口会传出他们激动、愤怒的声音。 高汉姆今年五十岁。他已为邮政系统服务了三十五年，而现在他确实被吓坏了。最后，他终于使埃佛赖特明白了自己的恐惧，从此，埃佛赖特没有把自己在布莱德福和威廉姆斯之间的泰勒公路上被抢一事告诉任何人，甚至没有告诉妻子。但他从没忘记过，而且他从没彻底忘记自己当时所感到的愤怒。羞愧……和幻灭。 两点三十分，恰莉已经堆完了她的雪人，安迪在小息之后也起床了．奥威尔·贾明森和他的新搭档乔治，西达卡正坐在一架飞机上。四小时后，当安迪和恰莉吃完晚饭一起做游戏时，那六封信已经放在了卡普·霍林斯特的桌子上。