Chapter 13 Chapter 8 George's Room and the Old House in Nabert Street 1

1 Rich Dorje turned off the radio, pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out of the car, and heard his own heavy breathing.The road sign sent chills down his back.He walked to the front of the car and put one hand on the decklid.The sound of the motor slowly died away.There was silence all around. He saw the sign, drove past it, and was suddenly back in Derry. Twenty-five years later, "Smelly Mouth" Richie is back home.He's already—he suddenly feels a burning pain in his eye, interrupting his thoughts.He cried out in pain, and hurriedly covered his face with his hands.Once in college he accidentally put an eyelash under a contact lens.It was the same feeling that time—but that time only one eye hurt, and this time it was both eyes.

As soon as he raised his hand, the pain disappeared. He lowered his head slowly again, looking at No. 7 Road thoughtfully.He got off the highway at the Ventner-Haven exit.For some reason he didn't want to take the highway into town.Back then he. When he and his family left this mysterious and dangerous town to move to the Midwest, the road in Derry was still under construction.No - it might be faster to take the highway, but that might be the wrong choice. So he drove along Route 9 through the sleepy village of Haven, then turned onto Route 7. By this time it was getting light. Oh, this street sign.It was no different from the street signs erected on the boundaries of more than 600 cities and towns in Maine, but why did this alone tug at his heart so much!

Pines and firs line the straight Route 7 in Derry, Maine, Penobscot County.In the silent morning light, those trees are like gray-blue smoke, piled up like a dream in a room that has been dusty for a long time and the air is still. Derry, he thought.Delhi, my God.delhi. I really don't know if I can face all of that, Richie thought.I mean it, my friend.I don't know if I can face it. It was like a dream last night.Car dealership, dream trip.Now he stopped—or rather the sign made him stop—and suddenly realized the fact that the dream was real.Delhi is real. He can't seem to stop the memories, which he feels are driving him crazy.He bit his lip and pressed his palms tightly together, as if he wouldn't burst.He felt like he was going to be blown to pieces soon.I was a little crazy looking forward to everything that was coming.But at the same time, I have more doubts about how I will spend the next few days.He—his thoughts were interrupted again.

A doe stood in the middle of the road.Gentle eyes stared at Ricky.Those eyes were full of curiosity, without the slightest fear. He looked at the doe in surprise, wondering whether it was a good or bad omen.Suddenly he remembered Mr. Nell.Everyone was immersed in the stories of Bill, Ben and Eddie that day.Mr. Nell gave a roar that scared the whole party out of their wits. Looking at the deer, Richie took a deep breath and found himself talking...but for the first time in 25 years he thought of imitating the Irish policeman's voice.The sound was like a giant bowling ball breaking the stillness of dawn—so loud that even Richie couldn't believe it.

"Almighty God! My dear, what is such a beautiful girl doing in this wilderness? Oh, God!If you don't hurry home, I'll tell your dad! " Before the echo had finished, and before the startled birds had time to complain about his fright, the hen wagged its tail at him and disappeared into the smoky pine forest, leaving behind only a pile of steaming deer dung. Richie couldn't help laughing.At first it was just sniggering, then I thought I was being funny — standing 3,400 miles from home in Maine one morning, yelling at a deer in the voice of an Irish policeman.From snickering, to giggling, to laughing out loud, and finally almost howling.He had to lie down on the car, tears streaming down his face.

After laughing for a while, he finally controlled himself, returned to the driver's seat, and started the engine.A fertilizer truck speeds by.Richie turned off the curb and headed toward Derry again. He felt better now, able to control himself... maybe because he moved again, moved forward, and the dream started again. He thought again of Mr. Nell—Mr. Nell, and the day at the dam.Mr. Nell asked them whose idea it was.The five of them looked at each other anxiously.Finally Ben stood up, pale, with his head bowed, his face twitching, trying not to cry.Richie, now that he thinks about it, thought the poor boy was going to be in jail for a few weeks for backfilling the sewage on Prosperous Street.But he admitted his mistake anyway, and in doing so he forced several other kids to speak up for him.If it's not like that, it means that they are all bad guys and cowards.TV heroes are not like that.For better or worse, Bane's actions brought them all together and bound them together for the past 27 years.

Richie wondered since when has everything been different?Was it when he and Stanley showed up and helped build the dam together?Did it start when Bill told them pictures of his brother shook his head and blinked?Maybe...but Ricky thinks the set of dominoes really started to fall when Bane stepped up and said, "I'll teach them—" 2 The "— how. It's my fault" moment started. Mr. Nell stood there without saying a word.He looked at Ben, then at the growing puddle behind the dam, in disbelief.He was about to speak when Bill also stood up. "That, that, that, that, yes, yes, it's me, my lord, lord, lord, lord, idea." He managed to say these words and breathed a sigh of relief.Mr. Nell stood looking at him impassively.Bill stammered the rest: It wasn't Ben's fault; Ben just got in by accident and taught them how to make the dam better.

"And me." Eddie said suddenly, took a step, and stood on the other side of Ben. "What do you mean by 'and me'?" asked Mr. Nell. "Is it your name or your address?" Eddie flushed. "I was with Bill before Ben came," he said. "That's what I mean." Rich also stood beside Eddie.It suddenly occurred to him that Mr. Nell might be amused by imitating a voice or two, and he let them go.But on second thought (which Richie rarely does), maybe that would make things worse.Mr. Nell looked less cheerful than usual. So he just said in a low voice, "I'm participating too," and then fell silent.

"And me." Stanley also took a step forward and stood beside Bill. Now all five of them stood in front of Mr. Nell.Ben looked at the group in amazement—he was overwhelmed by their support.At that moment Rich thought Ben was on the verge of tears. "God," said Mr. Nell.Although he sounded angry, there was a smile on his face. "I've never seen kids like you. If your parents knew you were here, I guarantee someone would be beaten tonight." Richie couldn't help it anymore, as usual, he just opened his mouth and couldn't control himself anymore. "How is the situation in your hometown now, Mr. Nell?" Rich's small mouth kept talking.

"Ah, you seem to have pink eye. You're a lovely man. You're a real credit to your country." "I'll brighten your ass in a second, dear boy." Mr. Nell said dryly. Bill lost his temper: "For God's sake, Li, Li, Li Qi, stop, stop, shut up!" "Good idea, Mr. Dunbarn," said Mr. Nell. "I'm sure Mr. Zack doesn't know you've come to play in the mud in Banron, does he?" Bill didn't dare to look him in the face, shook his head, flushed with shame. Mr. Nell looked at Ben. "I can't remember your name, child."

"Ban Hansko, sir." Ben's voice was very low. Mr. Nell nodded and looked at the dam in the distance again. "Is this your idea?" "Yes, how to fix it." Ben's voice was so small that he could hardly hear it. "Oh, you're an engineer's stuff, lad, but you don't know Banron, and you don't know Derry's drainage system, do you?" Ben shook his head. Mr. Nell graciously introduced them to the whole drainage system of Derry.As he spoke, big tears flowed down Ben's cheeks. "Good job you guys. Now six of the eight central sumps on William Avenue, Jackson Avenue, and Kansas Avenue, and the four or five side streets nearby, are backfilled with sewage." Mr. Nell stared coldly at Bill. "One of them supplies your house, young Mr. Dunbarn. Look now. The sink won't leak; the washing machine won't drain; the water from the pipes is pouring into the cellar—" Ben cried out.Everyone looked at him, then turned their heads away.Mr. Nell's large hand rested on his shoulder.That hand was rough and strong, but also gentle. "Well, well. Don't be sad, boy. Maybe it's not that bad. I exaggerate a little, just to show you how big it is. They sent me up here to see if a tree fell It's blocking the stream. It happens a lot. Only the 6 of us know about it. Some things that happened in the town recently are more worrying than sewage flooding. In my report, I said that I found a tree that was blown by wind. The felled tree, a couple of kids helped me remove the obstacles. Of course I won’t mention your names. I won’t mention your dam building in Ban Lun either.” He looked at the five children in front of him.Ben kept wiping away his tears with a handkerchief; Bill looked at the dam thoughtfully; Eddie clutched his asthma spray; Stanley was close to Richie, with a hand on his shoulder, ready to remind him —if Ricky wants to talk again. "You children shouldn't be playing in a place like this," Mr. Nell went on, "garbage, sewage, bedbugs . There are 4 clean parks to play and I'm here to catch you guys.God! " "I, I, we, hi, hi, hi, like this, this, here," Bill ventured, "when, when I, I, we are, here, in, there is no Give us any, any, any covenant, covenant, constraint." "What did he say?" Mr. Nell asked Eddie. "He said we have no restraints here." Eddie's voice was small, panting, but firm. "He's right." Richie chuckled. "Well said Eddie! Well done!" Mr. Nell turned to look at him. Richie shrugged. "I'm sorry. But he's right. Bill's right. We like it here." Rich thought Mr. Nell was about to throw a fit again.But to his surprise—to their surprise, the grizzled policeman laughed. "Ah," he said, "I used to play here when I was little, and no one forbade me to come. But you remember what I said now." He pointed at them, and they all had serious faces. "If you're going to come here, you're going to come together like this. Come together. Understand?" They nodded. "It means you stay together all the time. Don't get separated and play hide-and-seek here and there. You all know what's been going on lately. Also, I don't forbid you to come here, because you always will. But for Hello, here, anywhere, come together." He looked at Bill. "Do you agree with me, young Mr. Dunbar?" "Yes, yes, sir," replied Bill, "I-we'll stay at one-one" "Then I'm relieved," said Mr. Nell. "Shake hands." Bill held out his hand and Mr. Nell shook it. Rich shook off Stanley's hand and stepped forward. "We'll be together, Mr. Nell. You're a good man. A good man!" He reached out, took the big Irishman's hand, and shook it, with a smile on his face. "Thank you, boy," said Mr. Nell, withdrawing his large hand. "You want to learn Irish. Now you sound like a real Irishman." The other children laughed and finally breathed a sigh of relief.While laughing, Stanley gave Richie a reproachful look: Be more mature, Richie! Mr. Nell shook hands with everyone, and finally shook Ben's hand and said: "You just misjudged, there is nothing to be guilty of, boy. That dam...you learned it from reading?" Ben shook his head. "I figured it out by myself?" "Yes, sir." "I promise you will be able to do great things in the future. But Ban Lun is not the place to do great things." He looked around, thoughtful. "You can't do anything big here. Damn place." He sighed. "Tear down the dam, dear boys. Now. Do it quickly. I'll sit in the shade and have a drink." "Okay, sir." Richie looked very humble, and Mr. Nell nodded in satisfaction. With Bane at the helm—this time teaching them how to remove the dam as quickly as possible—the boys were at it again.Mr. Nell took a brown bottle from his coat pocket and took a long gulp.He coughed for a while, and gasped again.With wet eyes, he looked at these children kindly. "What's in your bottle, sir?" Richie stood knee-deep in the river. "Ricky, can't you just shut up?" Eddie reminded him in a low voice. "This one?" Mr. Nell looked at Ricky a little surprised, then at the bottle, which didn't have any label on it. "Here's a god-given cough medicine, boy. Well, let me see if you can work as fast as your tongue wags." 3 Later Bill and Rich walked down Wisham Street together.Bill pushes his bicycle; dams are repaired and dismantled, so naturally he doesn't have the energy to ride a speeding bike.The two children were covered in dirt, their hair was disheveled, and they were listless. Bill and Rich walked, neither talking much.Richie suddenly remembered Bill's story about the photo shaking his head and blinking.Although he was exhausted, an idea suddenly came to his mind.It's a little crazy...but it's firmly attracted to him. "Bill," he said, "let's take a break. I'm dying of exhaustion." "No way, no way." Bill stopped and carefully parked his bicycle on the edge of the grass in front of the seminary.The two children sat down on the broad stone steps. "Damn, unlucky, unlucky," said Bill sullenly.The circles under his eyes were dark and blue.He was pale and looked tired. "When I, we get back to my, my house, you'd better call home." "Okay, sure. Listen to me, Bill—" Ricky paused, remembering the mummy that Ben told, the leper that Eddie told, and the story that Stanley didn't tell.He suddenly remembered something, about the statue in the center of the town. But thank God, that was just a dream. He shakes off these irrelevant thoughts and leaps forward. "Let's go to your house, what do you think? Go and see George's room. I want to see that picture." Bill looked at Richie in shock, tried to say something, but couldn't; he was so nervous that he shook his head. Richie said, "You heard Eddie's story. And Ben's. Do you believe what they say?" "I don't know, know, know. I think, think they will, will, definitely look, see something." "Yeah, I thought so too. All the kids that got killed here, I think they had a story to tell. The difference between Ben and Eddie and those kids is that Ben and Eddie didn't get caught." Bill raised his eyebrows, but he wasn't surprised. "So now think about it, Bill," Richie said, "a man in a clown suit killing kids. I don't know why he would do it, but no one can explain what a madman does, can he?" "exactly--" "Exactly. That's no different from the Fuxia in the comic strip." Hearing what he said, Richie became even more excited. For a moment he wondered if he really wanted to prove something, or if he was just making excuses for himself, to see that room, that photograph.None of this matters.The important thing is that seeing Bill was so excited, his eyes lit up all of a sudden. "But. But, but what is the connection between that photo, photo and those murders'!" "What do you think, Bill?" Without looking up at Rich, Bill whispered that he didn't think the photos had anything to do with the murders. "I suppose it's the ghost of Joe, Joe, George." "The ghost in the picture?" Bill nodded. Richie thought about it.There are many stories about ghosts in his head.He believed there was such a thing in the world.He was open to any explanation Bill could offer, and the logic pained him so much. "But you said you were frightened. Why did George's ghost frighten you, Bill?" Bill wiped his mouth with a hand that trembled slightly. "Maybe he, he is very angry, angry, angry with me, me, me, and let him be, victimized, harmed, it is my fault, fault, fault. I beat, send him out, use small, small, small ..." Bill waved his hand, but couldn't say that word.Rich nodded to show that he understood what Bill was saying, but didn't agree. "I don't think so," he said. "It's different if you stab him in the back or shoot him. Even if you, say, give him your daddy's loaded gun to play with, It ended up killing yourself by mistake. But it wasn't a gun, it was just a boat. You didn't actually want to hurt him." Richie held out a finger and waved it in front of Bill like a lawyer—"You just wanted the kid Happy, right?" Bill thinks about the past—it hurts.For the first time in the months since George's death, Rich's words comforted him a lot.But there was still a voice in his heart that told him firmly that he couldn't justify himself.It's your fault, of course; maybe not quite, but it's your fault too. If not, why is there a cold place in the middle of the hair press where the parents sit? If not, why is everyone silent at the dinner table?Only the sound of knives and forks clinking. Knowing that in the end you can't take it anymore, ask if they can forgive him. He had a vague feeling that he was like a ghost, who could talk and move around, but no one heard him or saw him. He didn't want to admit that he was to blame, but the other explanation he could think of for his parents' reaction was worse: that all the love and care they had given him in the past was because of George's existence.Now that George was gone, he had nothing—everything just happened, without any reason.If you put your ear to that door of the soul, you will hear his heart beating wildly. He thought about what he had done, how he felt, what he had said the day George died, and wished Richie was telling the truth;For George, he is certainly not a good big brother.They often fight.Did you fight that day? no, no.Bill himself was not in good health that day, and he had no intention of arguing with George.He had been sleeping, dreaming, dreaming of a funny little animal (a turtle he couldn't remember exactly what it was). When he awoke, he heard the rain outside, and George was talking angrily to himself in the dining room. Asked what was the matter with George, George came in and said he tried to fold a paper boat as taught in the book, but couldn't make it. Bill asked him to bring the book. Bill still remembered that the boat was folded, and George's eyes were shining. Then The look in his eyes made him feel really great, like a big brother. The boat killed George.But the Reasoner was right—it wasn't the same as giving George a loaded gun to play with.There was no way Bill knew what was going to happen. He sighed deeply, as if he had removed a boulder from his heart, and he felt much better all of a sudden. He wanted to tell Richie, but when he opened his mouth, he lost his voice in pain. Richie was at a loss and put his arms around Bill's shoulders. "Are you all right," he asked, "are you all right, Bill, eh? Well, stop crying." "I don't, think, think about him, he was, was, killed, killed!" Bill broke down in tears. "I, I, I really didn't, didn't, didn't expect it would, it would be this, this!" "God, Bill, I know it's not your fault," Richie reassured him, "If you mean to hurt him, just push him down the stairs." Richie patted Bill's shoulder awkwardly, tightly hug him. "Okay, stop crying, okay? Sounds like a baby." Bill gradually calmed down.He still felt heartache, but this time the pain seemed to be much cleaner, as if he had cut open his body with a knife and took out the rotten things inside, feeling a burst of relief. "I, I don't, want him to be, kill, kill, kill," Bill kept repeating, "Like, if you, you, you sue, tell someone that I cry, cry, cry, I'll screw, screw , twist off your nose, nose, nose." "I won't say," Richie promised. "Don't worry. He's your brother anyway. If my brother was killed, I'd cry like hell." Rich watched Bill carefully to see if he had really calmed down.He was still wiping his red eyes with a handkerchief, but Richie knew he was fine. "I just can't figure out why George's ghost is haunting you. So maybe that picture has something to do with...someone else. The clown." "Yeah, maybe Joe, Joe, George don't, don't, don't, know, know the truth. Maybe he, he thinks, thinks—" Rich understood what Bill wanted to say and waved his hand. "You don't know what people think of you until you die, Bill." "I know, know, mean, mean, mean," said Bill. "Then what do you say?" "Huh-huh?" "Let's go into his room and find out. Maybe we can find a clue as to who killed so many children." "I'm scared, scared, scared—" "I'm afraid, too," Richie said.He thought that was all he wanted to say, so that he could convince Bill.But suddenly he felt something heavy in his heart turning over, and found that what he said was actually true: he was terrified to death. 4 The two sneaked into Deng Bang's house quietly. Bill's father was still at get off work, and Mrs. Dunborne was reading in the kitchen.The smell of finfish wafted from the kitchen.As soon as he entered Bill's house, Rich immediately called his mother to tell him that he was still alive. "Is anyone there?" asked Mrs. Dunborne loudly when Rich put down the phone.Both of them froze, looking at each other guiltily.Bill hurriedly replied, "I, I, Mom. Reason. Reason, reason. Reason, reason—" "Rich Dorje, Mrs. Dunbang." Rich replied loudly. "Hello, Richie," came Mrs. Dunborne's voice from afar, "staying for supper?" "Thank you, Mrs. Dunborne. My mother will come to fetch you in half an hour." "You and I say hello to her." "Okay, I will tell you." "Go...go," Bill whispered. "Enough...enough." They went upstairs to Bill's room.The room was in a mess, with books piled all over the place. There was also an old typewriter on the table.It was a Christmas present from Bill's parents two years ago.Bill sometimes uses it for stories.Even more so since George's death.It seemed to give him a moment of peace in his heart. There was also a gramophone on the floor.Bill selected a few records and turned on the gramophone.Even though he was nervous, he still smiled. "He, they don't, don't, like, like rock music, but if she hears the sound, sound, music, she thinks we are, in my, my room. Go, go, go, go." George's room was across the hall, and the door was closed.Richie took one look and licked his lips. "They didn't lock the door?" Rich asked Bill in a low voice.Suddenly he wished the door was locked.He couldn't even believe that he had thought this way. Bill paled, shook his head, and turned the doorknob.He went in and looked back at Richie.After a while, Richie followed.Bill closed the door.Richie almost jumped up when the lock hit. He looked around the room with a mixture of fear and great curiosity.The first thing he noticed was the dry, musty air in the room—the windows hadn't been opened for a long time, he thought.Geez, no one has been here in a long time.Thinking of this, he couldn't help shivering all over, and licked his lips again. His eyes fell on George's bed, thinking that George was now sleeping in the cozy dirt of the cemetery, rotting there.His hands were not folded, because one needs two hands to fold them according to the ancient ritual.George was buried with only one hand. Rich cleared his throat, and Bill turned and looked at him questioningly. "You're right," Rich said hoarsely, "it's scary here. I can't imagine how you dare to come here alone." "He, he is my younger brother." Bill's answer was simple. "Sometimes I think, think. want to come.What's the matter. " Rich saw the desk by the window covered with George's grade cards.Looking at the cards, Richie realized that the cards would never be added, and that George died before he could line up with the other kids to go to school, leaving only a few grade cards from Kindergarten and First Grade. Redeemable, forever over.For the first time Rich understands clearly what death means. "I'm going to die!" his mind suddenly screamed at him, revealing his fear. "Everyone will die! Everyone will die! "His voice trembled, and he could no longer control himself. "Yeah." Bill suppressed his voice and sat down beside George's bed. "Look." Richie followed the direction of Bill's finger and saw a photo album lying on the floor. "My friend," Richie read, "George Elmer. Dunban, six years old." 5 6 years old!The shrill cry sounded in his head again.Always 6 years old!Anyone can!nonsense!Went to his! "That's on, on, on," Bill said, "in, on." "It's closed now." Richie was a little nervous.He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Bill and looked at the photo album. "A lot of books will close by themselves." "Middle, book, page, it's possible, but the cover, cover, cover no, no. The cover of the photo album closed, closed by itself." He looked at Rich seriously, his pale and tired face with black eyes bright. "But, but it waits, waits, waits for you, you go to open it again. I think so, think so. " Rich stood up and walked slowly over.There was a thin curtain over the window, and the photo album lay at the bottom of the window.Richie looked up to see an apple tree in Bill's backyard, with a swing hanging from its wrinkled, dark trunk, swinging from side to side. He looked down at George's photo album again. A dried maroon stain stained the thick album.Possibly tomato juice, for sure.It's not hard to imagine George eating a hot dog or a big hamburger while looking at a photo album.After taking a big bite, the squeezed tomato juice dripped on the photo album.Little kids are always like that. Possibly tomato juice.But Rich knew that wasn't it at all. He touched the photo album, then withdrew his hand again.The photo album is cold.The photo album has been placed in a place where the sun can shine, but it is blocked by a thin layer of curtains, but it is cold to the touch. Oh, forget it, Rich thought.I don't want to look at his crappy photo album at all, it's full of people I don't know.Or I tell Bill I've changed my mind.We could go back to his room and read the comics for a while, then go home and have dinner and go to bed early.I am really tired today.When I wake up tomorrow morning, I'll be sure it's tomato juice.Just do it. He still opened the photo album, and his hands seemed to be prosthetics, thousands of miles away from him.He flipped through the album quickly.There are a few free and available.He turned over, although he didn't want to do it, but he couldn't control himself.There is a photograph of Derry Town Center, Main Street and Canal Street, probably in the 1930s, with nothing in the distance. "There's no picture of George at school." Richie looked at Bill, both comforted and annoyed. "Are you lying to me, Bill?" "What, what, what?" "The last picture in the album is what Derry town center used to be. The rest are blank pages." Bill stood up and walked over to Richie.He looked at the picture of Derry town; it seemed to be 30 years ago.Old cars, trucks, old street lamps, and people walking along the canals.He turned the page, and as Richie said, there was nothing. No, wait - not nothing, but a phase angle for the photo. "It was, it was, it was here," he pointed at the horn, "Look, look." "Oh! What do you think of this?" "I don't, don't know, know, know." Bill took the album from Richie, put it on his lap, and flipped through the pages, looking for George's picture.He gave up after a while, but the photo album didn't give up, it flipped by itself, slowly, making the sound of pages turning.Bill and Rich stared at each other with wide-eyed eyes, and took a few steps back. When the last page was reached, the paper stopped turning.That sepia photograph of downtown Derry chronicles what the city looked like long before Bill or Richie was born. "Oops!" Richie took the album from Bill.There was no trace of fear in his voice, and an expression of surprise appeared on his face in an instant. "Oh my God!" "What, what's wrong? What is it?" "We! It's us! My God, look!" Bill leaned over.He gasped, and Richie knew he'd seen it too. In this black-and-white photograph two boys are walking down Main Street toward the intersection of Main Street and Center Street—where the canal dives underground and runs underground for about a mile and a half.Against the low concrete wall beside the canal, the two children are more clearly seen. One was wearing shorts and the other was wearing a sailor outfit with a tweed hat on top.They seemed to be looking at something across the street.There was no doubt that the boy in the shorts was Richie, and the other was Bill Stutter. As if in a dream, they looked at themselves in the photo in amazement.Richie felt his mouth go dry with tension.In the photo, a man stood a few steps away from them, with his hands on the brim of his hat, his clothes fluttering in the wind, and there were various cars on the street. "I, I, I, I don't, don't, believe, believe—" Bill said.That's when things in the photo started to move. The car that was supposed to be parked forever at the intersection drove past, puffs of exhaust fumes coming out of the exhaust pipe.A small white hand stretched out from the driver's window, making a left-turn gesture.The car drove up Court Street, out of the white border of the photo, and disappeared. All kinds of cars started to move through the intersection.After about 28 years, the hem of the man's clothes finally stopped fluttering.He put his hat firmly on his head and went away. The two children turned the corner and walked towards each other.After a while, Rich saw a dog walking across Center Street.The kid in the sailor's suit—Bill—put his finger to the corner of his mouth and whistled.Richie was too scared to move, his mind went blank, but he was aware that he could hear the whistle, the motor of the car.The sound was very faint, as if separated by a thick layer of glass, but it was indeed audible. The dog glanced at them and continued on its way.The two children leaned forward and back together with laughter.They went on and the boy in the shorts grabbed Bill by the arm and pointed to the canal and they turned that way. No, Richie thought, don't go, don't—they came to the low concrete wall.A clown popped his head out like a scary puppet.The clown had George's face, his hair combed back, a sinister smile with a trickle of paint around his mouth, and eyes like black holes.Xiao Wu held three balloons in one hand, and stretched out the other hand, grabbing the boy in sailor clothes by the neck. "No, no, no!" Bill yelled, reaching for the photo. Hands reached into the picture. "Stop it, Bill!" Richie yelled, grabbing him. It's too late.Bill's fingertips had already penetrated that photo and reached another world.He saw in the photo that the pink and fresh flesh on the fingertips turned into dead milky white, and then white again.Those fingers got smaller and disconnected.It's like what you see when you put your hand into a glass bowl full of water: the part under the water seems to be floating in the water, and it is separated from the part above the water bit by bit. There were several diagonal cuts on Bill's fingers.It seemed that he had not put his hand into the picture, but into the leaf of the fan. Rich grabbed his forearm and pulled back so hard that they both fell to the ground.George's photo album hit the floor and slammed shut.Bill put his finger in his mouth, and tears flowed from the pain.Blood ran down his palm and onto his wrist. "Let me see," he said. "It hurts, it hurts." Bill turned his back up and held out his hand to Richie.Bill had stab wounds on his middle, index and ring fingers.小指也差点碰到那张照片的表面（如果有表面的话），虽然手指没有被割伤，但是指甲被齐刷刷地剪掉了。 “天啊，比尔。”理奇惊呆了。他想到的惟—、一样东西就是止血胶布。上帝，算他们走运——要不是他及时拉回比尔的胳膊，他的手指也许就全部被砍掉了。“我们得赶快处理一下。你妈妈该——” “别、别、别管、管我、我、妈。妈。”比尔又一把抓过那本相册。血流在地板上。 “不要再打开了！”理奇惊叫着，用力抓住比尔的肩膀。“上帝，比尔，你的手指差点儿没啦！” 比尔甩开他，迅速地翻着相册。他脸上那严肃坚决的表情吓坏了理奇。受伤的手指在相册上印下新的血迹——现在看起来还不像番茄汁，但是等一段时间，干了之后就像了。 相册那页上又出现镇中心的街景。汽车、男人都凝固在那里。 两个孩子消失了。 照片上根本没有男孩的身影。但是——“看。”理奇指着照片，低声说。他十分小心，手抬高照片远远的。运河边那道低矮的水泥墙上有一道圆弧——是什么东西的圆顶。 好像是气球。 6 比尔用手绢缠住受伤的手指，很快手绢就被染红了，鲜血直流。 两个人去了洗手间，比尔把手伸到水龙头下用凉水冲，直到流血止住。伤口看上去很细但是很深。理奇赶忙用止血胶布给比尔包扎好伤口。“疼、疼、疼死了。”比尔忍不住低声叫道。 “哎，为什么要把手伸进去？你个笨蛋！” 比尔神情严肃地看着裹在手指上的一圈圈胶布。又抬起头看着理奇。“那、那、那是个小丑，”他说，“是、是、是个假扮成乔、乔、乔治的小、小丑。” “说得对，”理奇说，“就是班恩看见的那个假扮成干尸的小丑。 就是艾迪看见的那个假扮成流浪汉的小丑。 " “那个麻、麻、麻风病人？” "right." “但是那真、真、真是、是个小、小、小丑吗？” “是个怪物，”理奇断然地说，“一种怪物。一种怪物正在德里。杀害孩子。” 7 星期五早晨理奇一看到报纸上关于星期六日场电影连放两部恐怖片的广告，就忘了昨晚的不眠之夜——他最后不得不坐起来，拧亮壁橱里的灯。真是小孩子的把戏，但是不那样，他怎么都睡不着。到了第二天早晨，一切似乎又恢复了正常……哎，差不多吧。他开始觉得也许他和比尔看到的全是幻像。比尔手指上的伤口当然不是幻像，但是那也许是被乔治的相册割伤的。那么厚的纸及。完全可能。而且，没有哪条法律规定在今后的10年里他必须一直想着这件事啊。 要是换个大人，经历过那么恐怖的场面之后一定会马上跑去看精神病医生。而理奇·多杰起了床，早餐吃了一个大煎饼，看到报纸上宣传那两部恐怖电影的广告，看看腰包里所剩无几（哎……根本就一个子儿也没剩），就开始磨着爸爸给他分配点活干。 “恐怖电影？”温特。毕斯说。 “对。”理奇一脸堆笑。 “非常想去？”温特哗斯又问。 "yes!" “如果你不能去看那两部垃圾电影，就失望得要死？” “是，是，我会失望死的！”说着理奇从椅子上跃在地上，揪住喉咙，伸着舌头。这是理奇装乖学酷惯用的手法。 温特探过身，笑着对理奇说：“我想我正有你想做的事情。” “真的吗，爸爸？”理奇冲爸爸笑笑……心里有点不安。 “哦，当然。你知道我们的草地吧，理奇？你对我们的草地很熟悉吧？” “我当然知道，长官，”理奇又模仿英国管家的腔调，“草长得有点儿高。” “正是，”温特附和着，“你，理奇，去改变这种状况。” "me?" “就是你。修剪草坪，理奇。” “好吧，爸爸，没问题。”理奇说。但是心头升起疑团。爸爸指的不光是门前的草坪吧？ 温特大笑起来。“所有的草坪，傻孩子。前后左右。等你干完了，我就给你两美元。” “整块草坪才两美元？”理奇嚷起来，真的很伤心。“这可是整个街区最大的一块草坪！哎哟，爸爸！上次克拉克兄弟子的时候，你可给他们每人两美元啊！” “没错，”温特承认，“但就我所知，他们明天并不想去看电影。 如果他们要去的话，他们肯定有足够的积蓄。而你确实想去，并且发现自己的钱不够。 “说完温特又看起报纸。”他敲诈我，“理奇向妈妈告状，”我真希望您明白这简直是敲诈。 " “是的，亲爱的，我明白，”妈妈说，“下巴上粘了鸡蛋。” 理奇擦掉下巴上粘的鸡蛋。“三块钱，如果今晚您到家之前我把所有的草坪都能剪好？” “两块半。” “哦，天啊，”理奇还不死心，“您太吝啬了。” “宝贝儿，”温特还在看着报纸，“快做决定。我要看拳击结果了。” “成交了。”理奇叹了口气。家里人了解你的弱点，就知道怎么对付你，这想起来就憋气。 理奇一边修剪草坪，一边练习他的模仿秀。 7 星期五下午3点钟他就把前后左右的草坪全部修剪完毕。星期六兜里多7两美元五十美分，也算小发了一笔。他打电话约比尔，比尔沮丧地告诉他自己得去班戈，参加什么语言障碍测试。他又打电话找艾迪。艾迪比比尔还惨，要去拜访他那三个胖姑妈。斯坦利更倒霉，玩飞碟的时候不小心砸碎了落地窗，他父母罚他周末留在家里干家务。 理奇刚要离开客厅，突然想起了班恩·汉斯科。他从电话簿上查到班恩家的号码。Dial the phone. “我很想去，可是我的零花钱都用光了。”班恩听起来很沮丧，为说出自己的窘迫感到难为情——其实，他把钱都买了糖果、汽水、薯条、牛肉干。 理奇刚发了一笔小财（又不想一个人去看电影），便慷慨地说：“我有的是钱。这次算你欠我的。” “是吗？”真的？你愿意？ " “当然，”理奇感到很不理解，“为什么不？” “好的，”班恩高兴地说，“好的，太棒了！两部恐怖电影！你是说其中一部是关于狼人的吗？” "That's right." “太好了，我最喜欢看狼人的电影。” “天啊，干草堆，别高兴得尿了裤子。” 班恩笑了。“那我在阿拉丁剧院门口等你，好吗？” “好，说定了。” 理奇挂断电话，若有所思地看着听筒。他突然觉得班恩很孤独。 这使他感到自己很了不起。他吹着口哨，跑上楼拿了几本小画书准备在电影开演前看。 8 天气晴朗，微风轻拂，凉爽宜人。理奇打着响指，哼着歌儿，朝电影院走着。他心情好极了。看电影让他很开心——他喜欢那里面的神秘世界，美妙的梦境。这么美好的一天，他为那些杂务缠身的人感到难过——比尔得去治他的结巴，艾迪要去看望他的姑妈。可怜的斯坦利整个下午都得趴在那里擦洗门前走廊上的台阶，还要打扫车库。 理奇从裤子后兜掏出他的游游球来玩，想让那小玩具老老实实地停在他的手里。他一直想学会这么一手。但是到现在，还是玩不转。 越想学会，就越弄不成。那小玩意儿不是顺着线圈滑下去，又突然跳起来，就是被钱缠住，不肯滑上来。 走着走着，理奇突然看到一个身穿米黄色百褶裙，白色无袖罩衫的女孩坐在一家杂货店门前，吃着蛋卷冰淇淋。红褐色的头发垂在肩上，在阳光下一会儿闪着红棕色，一会儿闪着金黄色。理奇知道只有一个女孩的头发是这种特殊的颜色——贝弗莉。Marsh. 理奇很喜欢贝弗莉。but.他虽然喜欢她，但绝没有别的意思。 他喜欢她的漂亮，但是更主要的是因为贝弗莉很坚强，有幽默感。而且，她还经常抽烟。总之，他喜欢她，因为她是个好人。理奇还必须承认，她是个美人。 理奇准备学汉弗雷。鲍嘉的声音（至少他自己这么认为。可在别人听起来他还是理奇，只不过好像有点伤风），朝她坐的长椅走过去。 “你好，亲爱的。”理奇说着走过去，看着街上来往的车辆。“在这里等不到巴士。纳粹已经切断了我们的退路。飞机今晚子夜起飞。 你坐飞机离开。他需要你，亲爱的。我也需要你……我总会挺过去的。 " “嗨，理奇。”贝弗莉招呼他。当他转过身来的时候，理奇看到她的右脸颊上有一块黑青。他又被她漂亮的容貌惊呆了……只想到她真的很美。直到这一刻他才相信电影以外真有这么漂亮的女孩，或者说他认识的漂亮女孩。那块瘀伤让他注意到她的美丽：灰蓝色的眼睛，红润的嘴唇，洁白无瑕的肌肤。鼻子上还有几个小雀斑。 “看到什么新鲜事了？”贝弗莉问他，头微微向后仰着。 “你啊！亲爱的。” “你讨厌，理奇。”听起来一点儿也不像汉弗雷。鲍嘉。贝弗莉笑着说。 理奇在她身边坐下。“你去看电影吗？” “我没钱，”她说，“我能看看你的游游球吗？” 他把游游球递给她。“我应该把它卷回来，停在我的手里。但是怎么也玩不好。” 她把手指套在线圈上，翻起手掌，那个游游球就老老实实地蹲在她的掌心里。她又用手指轻轻一弹，游游球便滑到线的末端，睡在那里。贝弗莉一钩手抬，游游球又醒过来，沿着线圈爬到她的掌心里。 贝弗莉给他表演了各种各样的玩法，让理奇看得目瞪口呆。 “能教我怎么让这玩意儿睡觉吗？” “我想可以。我还从没教过别人呢。”接下来的10分钟，她用心地教理奇怎么让游游球停在线绳上。 理奇看看街对面梅瑞尔信托公司上的大钟，一下子跳起来，急忙把他的玩具塞进兜里。“天啊，我得走了，贝弗莉。我得去见'干草堆'。他该以为我改变主意了。” “谁是'干草堆'？” “哦，班恩·汉斯科。我管他叫干草堆。” 贝弗莉皱了皱眉头。“那可不好。我喜欢班恩。” “别逗我了，小姐。”理奇学着匹克尼尼的声音，又是翻眼睛，又是摆手。“别逗我，你真会开玩笑，女士。” “理奇。”贝弗莉的声音很低。 理奇不笑了。“我也喜欢他，”他说，“前两天我们一起在班伦修水坝——” “你们去那儿了？你们去那里玩？” “没错。我们一伙人。那里真好玩。”理奇又看了一眼大钟。“我真得走了，班恩还等我呢。” "Ok." 他又停下来，想了想说：“如果你没什么事，跟我们一起去吧。” “我跟你说了，我没钱。” “我付钱。我有好几块呢。” 她把剩下的一点冰淇淋扔进垃圾桶，那双灰蓝色的眼睛笑眯眯地望着他。她假装把打头发，问他：“哦，亲爱的，我是被邀请出去约会吗？” 理奇一下慌了手脚，他感到自己的脸膛发烫。他突然感到很不自然，垂下眼睛，躲开她那笑盈盈的目光。每当他不知所措的时候，理奇就会装疯卖傻。 “对，是约会！”他尖叫着，扑通一声跪在贝弗莉脚下，握住她的手。“去吧！去吧！如果你拒绝了，我就会自杀的。答应吧，好吗？” “哦，理奇，你真是个疯子。”她说着咯咯地笑起来……但是她的脸颊不也有点红吗？那使她看上去更漂亮。“再不起来，警察就把你逮起来了。” 他站起来，又扑通一声跪在她的身旁。他觉得自己的沉着又回来了。他相信，当你头晕目眩、不知所措的时候，一点愚蠢总是很起作用。 "are you going?" “当然去，”她说，“非常感谢。想想看，这可是我第一次约会。 今晚我就要记在日记里。“她双手握在胸前，眨眨长长的睫毛，笑起来。 “我希望你不要那样说。”理奇说。 She sighed. “你一点儿也不浪漫。” "Exactly." 但是他心里还是很快乐，好像整个世界离他很近，很友好。他不时地从眼角偷看她。她看着商店橱窗里的衣服、睡袍、毛巾、瓶瓶罐罐。他偷偷地看她的头发，下饭的轮廓，白皙的胳膊，清晰的唇线。 这些都让他无比快乐。他说不出个所以然，只是感到很遥远。该走了，去见班恩。可是他真想在这儿多坐一会儿，看着她的目光在橱窗之间移动。看着她真好。跟她在一起真好。