Chapter 20 Chapter Eleven Derry Revisited 1

1 Ben stood with his hands in his pockets on the corner of Kansas and Del Trey and watched the taxi go away.He tried his best to forget about the dangerous decisions everyone had made at lunch.But I can't forget it, I always think of the gray-black fly that crawled out of Bill's fortune cookie, its veined wings drooping on its back.He thought of his own success to divert his attention, but within five minutes he was thinking of the fly again. I just want to prove, he thought, that it is only in the sense of mathematics and statistics, and has nothing to do with conscience and morality.The construction of houses must follow certain natural laws; natural laws can be expressed by formulas; formulas must be proved.But how to explain what happened half an hour ago?

Forget it, he told himself more than once.You can't prove it, so be it. A good suggestion, but the problem is that he can't accept such a suggestion.He remembered how his life went on after seeing the mummy on the frozen canal.He knew that no matter what it was that had nearly taken his life, his life hadn't changed in the slightest.Everything just blended into his life so naturally.They are born to believe that there is an invisible world and believe in all incredible things, but they will never let this world stop. Any upheaval at 10 o'clock is not going to save them a loaf or two at lunch.

But when you grow up, everything changes.You can't fit everything that's going on into your life naturally.Like a kitten pawing at a ball of string, your mind keeps coming back to it... until at the end, you're either driven crazy or your mind goes blank and you can't act. If that happens, Ben thought, it's got me.all of us. He walked down Kansas Avenue, not knowing where he was going.Suddenly thought: What did we do with that silver coin? He still can't remember. That silver coin, Ben... Beverly saved your life with it.Your... everyone's... especially Bill's life.It nearly ripped my stomach, if it wasn't Beverly... what?what did she doHow does that silver coin work?She fought it off and together we helped her.But how to defeat it?

A word came to him suddenly, a word that meant nothing to him but made him nervous: Chud. He looked down and saw what appeared to be a chalk-drawn turtle on the sidewalk.The whole world is spinning before your eyes.He blinked hard before he saw the squares drawn on the ground by children playing hopscotch.Already blurred by light rain. What does Chud. mean? "I don't know," he said aloud.He looked around quickly to see if anyone could hear him talking to himself.He turned off Kansas Avenue and came onto Castro Avenue.At lunch, he told people that Banron was the only place where he was happy in Derryville...but that wasn't true.There is one more place.Before he knew it, he had come to that place: the Derry Public Library.

He stood there for a minute or two with his hands in his pockets.It hasn't changed a bit, and he still likes its contradictory lines as before: strong and thin, stocky and tall.These contradictions made it unconventional, and he felt a sudden fondness for it. He walked across the lawn of the library, wanting to take a look at the glass passage connecting the adult hall and the children's hall.Nothing has changed.Standing under the willow tree, you can see the readers coming and going inside.The joy he once had was surging again, and he really forgot everything that happened at the end of the dinner.He remembered that when he was a child, he came here through the waist-deep snow and the twilight, and it was these same contradictory features that attracted him.

Over there, not more than forty yards from him, was a brightly lit passage.What a marvelous landscape that is.The magic is that the gleaming column composed of light and life is like a channel of life, connecting the two dark buildings together.The magic is that people can pass through the dark wind and snow safely through here, making them look so lovely and holy. With such a nostalgic complex mixed with joy and sorrow, Ben pushed open the iron door and walked into the quiet library.The power of the memory made him dizzy as he stood in that soft light.The power wasn't physical—it wasn't like a punch to the jaw or a slap in the face, but more like that weird time-turning feeling.He'd felt it before, but never so strongly that it disorientated him.

For a moment, he stood there, feeling completely lost in a tunnel of time, not knowing whether he was 38 or 11. It was still so quiet, occasionally there were a few whispers.The librarian stamped a book or an overdue notice with a slight click.The sound of flipping through newspapers and magazines.As always, he loved the light here, which slanted in from the high windows and was drowsy. He walked across the faded linoleum, still cautious as before, for fear that the football shoes on his feet would make strange noises.The spiral staircase leading to the top shelf is still there.But he also saw that there was already a small elevator there.That relieved him a little - broke the suffocating nostalgia.

He felt like a trespasser, a spy from a foreign land.He has been looking forward to the librarian looking up, looking at him, and questioning him in a clear and loud voice, so that everyone's eyes will fall on him: "You! Yes, it's you! What are you doing here? There is no you here You're an outsider! You're from the past! Go back to where you came from! Go back now or I'll call the police!" He walked up a narrow, steep cast-iron staircase to the children's library.I found that I was like a child again, raising my head, hoping to see a girl in a skirt coming down.He remembers sitting in the children's library for 20 minutes, imagining that he and Beverly were married, living in a cottage in the suburbs, and enjoying life to the fullest.Ben found it very interesting—now that he was an adult, he still kept this habit.

He walked slowly down the glass corridor.Nothing has changed here.But—that feeling of stepping back in time came back.He felt helpless in the face of this feeling, but this time he was like a drowning person. After splashing in the water for half an hour, he still couldn't swim to the shore, and felt a faint fear. Now is the time for storytelling.A dozen or so children huddled in a corner, sat on small chairs and listened fascinated. "It was I, Billy the Grumpy Goat, who rigged your bridge." How could it be the same story?Can I believe it's just a coincidence?Because I can't... damn it, I just don't believe it! "

Who should I talk to, he thought, terrified.Mike...Bill...someone.Is there some power that binds past and present together, or is it my imagination?I—seeing the borrowing desk, his heart stopped beating, and then accelerated again.That propaganda poster was so simple, so stiff...familiar: remember the 7pm curfew at Derry Police Station, and it all came back to his memory clearly—like a frightening flash of light.Derry has an echo, an echo of death.All they could hope for was that the echo would benefit them and enable them to escape alive. "God!" he murmured to himself, and involuntarily rubbed his cheeks vigorously with his palms.

"What can I do for you, sir?" A voice suddenly came from beside him, startling Ben.Is a librarian.Looking at her friendly yet somewhat suspicious eyes, Ben remembered that he no longer belonged here—he was a giant in Lilliputian.an intruder. "No, thank you," he said, and added, without reason, "I'm looking for my son, he's very stocky and looks a bit like me. If you see him, please tell him that his father is returning home." Came here to look for him on the way home." He walked back through the glass corridor to the Adults' Hall, headed for the reading desk on impulse...but they should have followed their instincts this afternoon.Listen to your intuition and see where you will be taken. "What can I do for you?" Ms. Danner asked. "I think so," Ben said. "I mean, I hope so. I want a library card." "Okay," she said, holding out a form, "are you a resident of Derry?" "Not anymore." "Home address?" "2 Country Star Road, Fort Hemming, Nebraska. Area code 59341." "Is this a joke, Mr. Hansko?" "Absolutely not." "Are you moving to Derry?" "never thought before." "It's a long way to borrow books here, isn't it? Isn't there a library in Nebraska?" "It's just nostalgia for the past," Ben said.He had thought it embarrassing to tell such things to a stranger, but he found at last that it was not what he had imagined. "I grew up in Derry and this is the first time I've been back here. I've been walking around and seeing how it's changed. It just occurred to me that I've spent about 10 years here, from the age of three to 13. So Years have passed and I can't remember a single thing. I just want to keep a little memory of my childhood." Ms. Danner smiled. "I thought it must be nice," she said. "You just read a book, come back in 10 to 15 minutes, and I'll have your card ready." Ben smiled slightly. "I think I have to pay a little money." "Did you get a library card when you were a child?" "Of course I did." Ben smiled. "Aside from my friends, I think the borrowing card is the most important thing to me—" "Ben, can you come here for a while?" A voice suddenly sounded, piercing the silence of the library like a sharp knife. He turned away in horror.But I didn't see a single person I knew... It took me a while to realize that no one looked up at all, and no one showed surprise or disapproval. He turned back again, and the young woman in front of him looked at him suspiciously. "Any questions?" "No," Ben said, laughing. "I think I heard something. Jet lag, I think. What did you say?" "Oh, you're the one talking. I mean if you ever got a library card when you were a resident, you still have your name on file," she said. "Now we have our records on microfiche. I guess it's different from when you were a kid." "Yes," he said, "a lot of Derry has changed . . . but a lot of things have remained the same." "I'll check and get you a new card. No charge." "That's great," Ben said.Before he could say "thank you," the voice pierced the hallowed silence of the library again, louder, with sinister glee: "Come on, Ben! Come on up, you fat boy!It's your life, Ben Hansko! " Ben cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said. "You're welcome." Ms. Dana looked at him with her head tilted. "Is it hot outside again?" "A little bit," he said, "what's the matter?" "you--" "Ben Hansko did it!" came the shrill voice from the bookshelf. "Ben Hansko killed those kids! Get him! Get him!" "—perspiring," she said. "Really?" Ben said stupidly. "I'll get this done right away," she said. "thanks." Ben walked away slowly, heart beating violently.Yes, he is sweating.He looked up and saw the clown Paniwawen standing on the bookshelf, looking at him.It has white paint on its face.A murderous sneer appeared on the blood red lips.Hollow eye sockets.Holds a handful of balloons in one hand and a book in the other. Not it, thought Ben. One afternoon in the late spring of 1985 I stood in the middle of the rotunda of the Derry Public Library.I'm an adult, confronting my childhood nightmares.face it. "Come up, Ben," Bonivaai yelled, "I won't hurt you. I found you a book! A book...and a balloon! Come up!" Ben opened his mouth to answer it. 'If you think I'm going up there, you're crazy. "And suddenly realized that if he did that, everyone would be looking at him, and everyone here would be thinking, 'Who is that madman? " "Oh, I know you can't answer," Pennyvalvin giggled, "almost baffled you just now, didn't you?" Excuse me, sir, do you have Prince Albert in a can?  … Do you have ... You'd better let that poor man out! Excuse me, ma'am, is your refrigerator running? ... Running? ... Then don't you hurry to chase it?" After finishing speaking, he stood on the stairs The clown on the platform looked up and laughed.The laughter echoed like a flock of black braids hovering over the roof of the rotunda.Ben tried his best not to cover his ears with his hands. "Come up, Ben." Pennyvale called down. "Let's talk. What do you think?" I'm not going up, Ben thought.When I go to find you, you won't want to see me.We are going to kill you. The clown laughed mischievously again. "Kill me? Kill me. Suddenly came Richie's voice. To be precise, it wasn't Richie's voice, but it imitated the voice of the little black slave: "Don't kill me, sir, I'm a good black man, Don't kill a black person like me, Haystack! "After he finished speaking, he laughed shrilly. Trembling and pale, Ben walked through the grinning central hall of the Adult House.Standing in front of a row of bookshelves, he randomly took out a book, flipping through it with his cold fingers. "Here's your chance, Haystack!" came the voice from behind again. "Get out of this town. Get out of this town before dark. I'm coming to you tonight...you and the others. You're too old to stop me. Ben. You're all old. Too old to do anything but die. Fuck off, Ben. Do you want to see this tonight?" He turned around slowly, still holding the book in his cold hands.He didn't want to look, but it seemed that an invisible hand lifted his chin higher and higher, higher and higher. The clown disappeared.A human-shaped thing from ancient times with a face like a tree root stood there.Death-like pale face, purple eyes.The wide open mouth reveals a mouth full of Gillette blades.It's like a labyrinth of death, if you take one wrong step, you will be smashed to pieces. "Go away!" it screamed, closing its jaws.Black and red blood poured out of its mouth like a flood.Pieces of cut lips fell on the white silk shirt, leaving streaks of blood. "What did Stanley Ulis see before he died?" screamed the vampire on the landing, laughing wildly with his mouth open. "What did he see? Do you want to see it too? what did he seewhat did he see "There was another harsh laugh. Ben felt like he was going to scream, and blood poured down the landing like a shower. A drop fell on the hand of an old man who was reading a newspaper, and ran down his It trickled down his fingers. He couldn't see it, he couldn't feel it. Bane thought he was about to cry out, as terrifying as a deep knife wound...or a mouth full of razor blades.Surprisingly, he did not cry out, but said in a trembling, small begging voice: "We make pellets out of it. We make pellets out of silver coins." Ms. Danner stood beside him suddenly, looking at him with concern. "Are you sick, Mr. Hansko? I know it's rude to say that, but you look very ill. If you want to lie down, there's a cot in Mr. Hanlon's office. You can—" "No, thank you, I really don't need it." He didn't want to lie down now, but wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.He looked up at the landing.The clown has disappeared.The vampires are also gone.But a balloon was tied to the banister and it said: GOOD DAY!You are dead tonight! Mrs. Danner handed him a little orange card with DELHI PUBLIC LIBRARY printed on it.Ben was amused—this was his first adult library card.Ms. Danner is placing a book on the scanning machine that records borrowings.Ben felt an almost hysterical joy.This is when the clown imitated the little nigger, and I pulled it off the shelf. For the first time in 25 years, I borrowed a book from the Delhi Public Library.I don't know the name of that book yet.Also, I don't care.Just get me out of here, okay?That's enough. "Thank you," he said, tucking the book under his arm. "You're very welcome, Mr. Hansko. Don't you really need an aspirin?" "No really," he said—and then hesitated. "You don't know Mrs. Starrett, do you? She used to be the head of the children's library." "She passed away," Ms Danner said. "3 years ago, had a stroke. She wasn't too old then...fifties." "Oh." Ben felt empty inside.When you return to your hometown many years later, people have forgotten you, or left before you, or lost all their hair and teeth.You also find that some people are crazy.Oh, it's good to be alive. "I'm sorry," she said, "but you like her very much, don't you?" "All the kids love Mrs. Starrett," said Ben.He was surprised to find that he was on the verge of tears. "you--" If she asked me again if I was really okay, I would literally cry.Or yell.Or do something else. "Good day, Mr Hansko." certainly.Because tonight I will die. Ben walked toward the door, then looked back at the landing above the bookshelves to the left.The balloon was still floating there, but the words on it had changed: I killed Mrs. Starrett! ——The clown Pennyvale turned his head, feeling his heart beating violently.He hurried out of the library.The dark clouds have dispersed, and the warm sunshine at the end of May makes the grass more green and lush.Ben felt something slowly rise in his heart, as if he had left the unbearable burden in the library... He glanced down at the book he had inadvertently pulled out, and couldn't help shivering— -"bulldozer".In order to avoid Henry's group, he had borrowed this book from the library the day he ran into Ban Lun.There were also footprints left by Henry's big-toed shoes on the cover. Ben groped for the book with trembling hands, turning to the back cover.He clearly saw that the library had adopted a microfilm lending system, but there was still a small paper bag at the back of the book with a card stuffed inside.Each line of the card bears the name, followed by the return date stamped by the librarian.On the last line of the card was his immature signature written in pencil stroke by stroke. Ben Hansko July 9, 1958 "Oh God!" whispered Ben.He didn't know what else to say; this alone seemed to express his mood. "Oh, God, God!" Standing in the sunlight, he suddenly thought of what would happen to the rest of the people. 2 Eddie got off at the corner of Kansas and Casu Lane.Casu Lane descends for more than a mile, suddenly turning into gravel and dirt roads, and slowly extending into the Benlun Lowlands.Nor did he know why he had chosen this place to get off; Casu Lane meant nothing to him, and he knew no one in the area. Watching the bus drive away slowly, he doubted what he was going to do here, standing on an unnamed street corner in an unnamed town. 500 miles away, Myra was worried about him and shed tears every day.He suddenly felt dizzy, touched his jacket pocket, and remembered that he had left all kinds of spare medicines in the Derry Town Hotel.Luckily he had a few aspirins with him, so he chewed one and walked down Kansas Avenue, thinking vaguely that he could go to the public library, or Castro Avenue.His goal gradually became clear: go to the West End of Broadway, and look at the old Victorian houses there.He used to go there when he was a kid--walking casually through Broadway Jiangxi, as if he was going somewhere else. At that time, Sally's house was on the intersection of Wisham Street and West Broadway.And Greta's.Once he saw Greta, slender and pretty (her tanned shoulders, to 9-year-old Eddie, her tanned shoulders were also stunningly beautiful), holding a lemon in one hand and a battering stick in the other, chasing after her. with a flying ball.He was really kind of in love with Greta then. Yes, he thought, walking aimlessly back down Kansas Avenue.I should go to West Broadway and see the old houses again... Sally's, Greta's, Dr. Hill's. The Turek Brothers' house - At the mention of this last name, his train of thought was interrupted because he was already here, standing in front of the Turek Brothers' truck garage. "Still here," Eddie said aloud, laughing. The house in the Broad Riverside area belonged to a pair of bachelor brothers, Philip and Tony Turek.Possibly the loveliest house on the street, mid-Victorian white with green lawns and flower beds.Their driveway gets refinished every fall so it always looks black and shiny like a mirror.On the sloping roof of the house, there are pieces of slate signboards in pure mint green.People stop here all the time to take pictures of the unusual straight windows. The truck garage is a stark contrast to the Turek brothers' home, a low-slung red-brick home.In some places the bricks were worn out and worn out, and the houses were dirty orange with black borders.All glass wins without exception, except for a small round bed in the dispatcher's office.The dispatcher made a note on the calendar, and the kids took turns keeping the window spotless.Anyone who has not completed the task must not enter the parking lot behind to play baseball. The brothers try to keep their cars in the back of the house, away from the parking lot, because they're big baseball fans and love when their kids come to play baseball.Philip drove the car himself, so he was rarely seen.But Tony, a thick-armed, pot-bellied man, kept the books.In the summer, he was always there, and his shouts became almost an integral part of the game.Eddie remembered that he never called your name, always "Hey, red hair, hey, yellow hair, hey, four eyes, hey, little scorpion". Eddie couldn't help laughing and stepped forward... Suddenly his smile froze.The row of once orderly brick houses was dark and silent.There are weeds growing in the crevices of the stones, and there is no truck in the yard on both sides... only a rusty duty booth stands there alone. The Turek brothers were broke, he thought, surprised he felt so sad about it... as if someone had died.Now he's glad he didn't make it to the West End of Broadway.If even the Turek brothers were dead—they seemed supposed to be immortal—what unexpected changes would happen to the street he loved to walk as a child?He didn't want to know at all.He didn't want to see Greta gray-haired and bloated; it was better to get out of here--safer. Each of us should do this, get out of here, it's none of our business here.Going back to the place where you were born and raised is like doing yoga, sticking your feet in your mouth and swallowing yourself, nothing is left; Possibly... what happened to Tony and Philip? Tony may have had a heart attack, he was so fat that his heart stopped beating.What about Philip?Maybe there was an accident on the way.Eddie also eats this bowl of rice. He knows the dangers of driving.Old Philip may have been hit with a broken rib, and perhaps the brakes failed while driving in the rain, and he crashed headlong into heaven. "Oh, I hate how time flows." Eddie sighed lowly, not even realizing that he was talking to himself. Happy and sad, Eddie turns around the house to see the parking lot where he played baseball as a kid.Flat shoes creaked on the gravel path. The parking lot hasn't changed much, but a quick glance tells you there's no baseball anymore.There are no longer any bases on which the children stepped, and patches of weeds grow on the gravel path.Shattered soda bottles, beer bottles gleamed.The only thing that hasn't changed is the 12-foot-tall, rust-covered wire mesh fence behind the parking lot. That's the home plate, Eddie thought, hands in his pockets, standing there where home plate had been knife years ago.They call the ball flying over the fence and into Banron "autopilot."He couldn't help laughing, and looked around nervously, as if there was a ghost laughing there, not a well-dressed gentleman, someone as strong as... as strong as... as... Don't talk nonsense.Etz.It sounded like Ricky's voice.Your health is not good at all, but the cough has not been so severe in recent years.right? "Yeah, that's right," Eddie whispered, kicking the stones. In fact, he only saw two balls fly over the fence behind the parking lot, and both were hit by the same kid: Beltz.Huggins.Belz was broad-chested, 6-foot-1 and weighed 170 pounds by the time he was 12. It was a miracle that Eddie saw the two balls that Beltz hit.The first ball was not found, although a group of children searched back and forth for a long time on the steep slope extending into the hinterland of Ban Lun. But the second ball came back.The ball belonged to another sixth grader, and it was the same ball that was used throughout the late spring and early summer of 1958.As a result, it was no longer a white ball sewn together with red needles and threads; when it rolled and jumped over the gravel road in the outfield, it scratched its skin, was stained with grass juice, and had a few cuts.A suture has broken in one place.Eddie knew some kid would come in and wrap the ball in insulating tape, and it would last a week. But before that day came, a boy in seventh grade threw a "changeup" at Beltz.Beltz calculated the timing and hit it hard. As a result, the skin of the ball fell off, like a big white moth fluttering to the ground.The ball was still rising and rising, peeling off layer by layer, flying over the wire mesh fence, and still rising.Before the ball hit the ground, the six children climbed up the fence.Eddie remembers Tony laughing like crazy and yelling, "That ball is going to fly out of Yankee Stadium! Do you hear that? That ball is going to go out of Yankee Stadium!" The last kid was found by the creek Only a 3-inch ball, smaller than a tennis ball, remains. Eddie lost himself in the reminiscences of the past, walking from home plate to pitcher's pile to the shortstop area.Standing for a while, I was shocked by the dead silence here.Then he walked slowly to the fence.There's rust and creeping vines, but it's still there.Looking around from there, the ground is slowly descending, and the trees are so green.Ban Lun is more like a jungle than ever. Ban Lun. It sounds unlucky, even a bit sinister.But the association it arouses in the mind is not the grass and trees that spread freely, but the sand dunes that move all the time, the exposed rocks and the endless desert.Ban Lun.Mike said none of them had children. 7 people, none of them have children. He looked out through the rusty diamond mesh, listening to the sound of cars passing on Kansas Avenue and the babbling water below.He saw the stream below shimmering like a mirror.The bamboo forest was still there, pale white, like pieces of mold in a green package.In the distance are the swamps on both sides of the Kentucky River, where it is said that there is quicksand. It was in that patch of grass that I had spent the happiest childhood, and the thought made him shudder. He was just about to turn around and leave when he suddenly saw a concrete column with an iron cover on the top.It was about waist high, and it had "Delhi Public Works Department" stamped on its iron cover.Walk through it, and you can hear a humming sound from deep inside, a sort of mechanical sound. We've been there. end of August.We climbed down and walked into the sewer, but after a while, it was not a sewer.Is... is... what? Patrick Hoxett lay there on his stomach.Something to do with Henry Powers, right?Yes, I think so.Also—he turned around suddenly and ran towards the abandoned parking lot, not wanting to take another look at Ban Lun, and didn't like the associations Ban Lun aroused in his mind.He wanted to go home, to Myra.He doesn't want to be here.he…… "Catch the ball, kid!" He turned back at the sound and saw a ball jump over the fence and come flying towards him.The ball landed on the gravel and bounced.Without thinking about it, Eddie stretched out his hand and caught the ball nimbly. He looked down at the thing in his hand and suddenly felt cold all over his body.It was clearly still a baseball just now, but now it has become a small ball with thin lines, because the outer layer of foreskin has been knocked off.It was the ball that flew over the fence and disappeared into Banron. Oh God, he thought.Oh God, it's here, it's right next to me—"Come down and play, Eddie." A voice came over the fence.Eddie, a little frightened, recognized that it was Beltz, who had been killed in the tunnels under Derry in August 1958.Beltz himself was struggling up the embankment beyond the fence. "It was wearing a striped New York Yankees jersey with leaves glued on it and stained green. It was Belz, and the leper too, a dangerous creature crawling out of a dank burial, with streaks of muscle hanging from a sullen face, one eye socket empty, maggots wriggling in hair, one hand Wearing a moss-covered baseball glove, the rotting fingers of his right hand grip the mesh of the fence.As he shook the fence, Eddie heard a horrible noise that drove him mad. "That ball will definitely fly out of Yankee Stadium." Beltz said with a grin.A white, poisonous toad wriggled out of its mouth and rolled on the ground. "Did you hear that? That ball is sure to fly out of Yankee Stadium! By the way, Eddie, do you want a blowjob? Ten cents a time. Hey, it's free." Beltz's face changed.The jelly-like nose fell off, revealing the two blood-red channels Eddie had seen in his dream.His hair was coarse, brushed back, and gray as a spider's web.The rotting skin on his forehead had cracked open, revealing the slimy bones.Belz disappeared, and before him stood the monster under the porch of 29 Nabert Street. The thing muttered something, and began to climb up the fence, leaving pieces of meat on the wire mesh.Under the weight, the fence creaked and creaked.Everywhere the creeping vines turned black. Eddie felt a stabbing pain in his chest.He looked down to see blood gushing from the stitches in the ball, dripping on the gravel, and splattering his shoes. He threw the ball on the ground, staggered back a few steps, his eyes widened, and he wiped the blood from his hands on his front.The leper had climbed to the top of the fence.Its terrifying head bobbed back and forth like a Halloween jack-o-lantern.The tongue was dangling, four feet long, maybe six feet, stretching and weaving like a viper's tongue. It's there for a moment... it's gone for a moment. It didn't disappear without a trace, it just pretended to be.But Eddie heard a sound that confirmed its existence: a pop, like the uncorking of a champagne bottle, the sound of air gathering where the leper was. He turned and ran, but before he was 10 feet away, he saw four shadows flying straight out of the shadows under the loading bay of the abandoned parking lot.At first he thought it was weaving, screaming and covering his head.It was only later that I saw that it was 4 pieces of canvas—the canvas used as a base when the older children played here. They danced and whirled silently in the air, and he had to dodge to avoid one. Four pieces of canvas kicked up a cloud of dust and landed in their original positions: home plate, first base, second base, third base. Eddie ran across the plate panting, biting his lip, pale. Eddie's legs went weak, he groaned, and stopped there.The ground bulges from home plate to base plate, as if a huge gopher was burrowing rapidly beneath it.The thing crawled under the base, and the canvas flew into the air with a thud.The ground between first and second base began to heave, and the piece of canvas on second base slammed into the sky, and before it fell, it ran to third base and back to home plate. Home plate buckled, too, and the thing popped out of the ground, and it was Tony Turek, with a few black chunks of flesh still hanging from his skull, and his white shirt was stripped to pieces.He poked his upper body out of the dirt at home plate, wriggling back and forth like a grotesque bug. "Don't be afraid to be out of breath when you play." Tony Turek's voice is firm. Cambodia Er. "It's okay, Tracheitis, we'll get you, you and your friends. Let's play ball!" Eddie screamed and staggered back.He has a hand on his shoulder.He wanted to shake that hand away.The hand clenched tightly, then loosened.他回头看见格莉塔。她死了，半个脸没有了；蛆虫在剩下的那半边脸上爬来爬去，手里拿着一只绿色的气球。 艾迪倒退几步，双手掩面。它朝他走过来，鲜血滴在它的腿上，结成一个个污点。 他看见它身后最恐怖的一幕：帕特里克·霍克塞特正从外场摇摇晃晃地向他走来，它也穿着纽约扬基队的队服。 艾迪拔腿就跑。格莉塔一把抓住他，撕破了他的衬衫，在他的衣领后洒下一道可怕的粘液。托尼·图雷克也爬出地面。帕特里克也跌跌撞撞地走过来。艾迪不知道自己从哪里来的力气，拼命地跑开了。 他一边跑着，看见眼前浮着一行字，格莉塔拿着的那只气球上写着这样一行字：中央大街药店提醒您：哮喘药物可能致癌！ 艾迪不停地向前跑，在麦卡森公园附近昏倒在地止。一群孩子躲开了他，因为他看上去像个酒鬼，也许得了什么可怕的病，甚至也许就是那个杀手。他们说要报警，但是最后还是没去。 3 贝弗莉从德里镇宾馆出来，漫不经心地走在梅恩大街上。她没有想自己要去哪里，而想起了那首小诗：你的秀发是冬天里的火焰，一月里的余火，我的。心在那里燃烧。 她想认为那是比尔写给她的情诗，那是很自然的……不，她已经知道是谁写的。后来——在某个时候——作者不是向她承认了吗？是的，班思曾经对她坦白过，虽然他的爱就像她自己对比尔的爱一样深埋在心底。可爱的胖班思。 这段三角恋最后还是结束了，但是她始终想不起来是如何结束的。只记得班思承认是他写的那首情诗，她告诉比尔她爱他，永远爱他。而且不知是何原因，这两个爱情的自白救了他们所有人的性命……他们？She couldn't remember.这些记忆就像一座座小岛，实际上并不是小岛，而是伸出水面的珊瑚触角。每当你想潜到深处去看看其余的部分，一种令人无法忍受的形象就介入进来：每年春天飞回新英格兰的白头翁。它们挤在电线上、树枝上、屋顶上，3月末的空气中部是它们唧唧喳喳的叫声。 我要回家，她闷闷不乐地想，但是还是继续往前走。 这个街区没有太大的变化。只是少了几棵树。房子看上去有点儿俗气；到处是碎玻璃窗，好像比她小的时候还多。有的钉上了木板，有的还那么碎着。 她站在梅思南大街127号那套公寓前。还在这里。那剥落的白色墙皮现在变成了剥落的棕色墙皮，但是肯定错不了。 爸爸可能还住在这里，哦，是的。如果不是万不得已，他决不会搬走的。走过去，贝弗莉。看看信箱。如果上面还写着“马什”，那你就可以按响门铃，一会儿就能听到恢拉吸拉的拖鞋声，门就打开了，你就能看见他。去吧，贝弗莉，按响门铃，他就会出来的。他已经老了，满脸皱纹，剩下几颗黄牙。他会看着你说，啊是贝弗莉，贝弗莉回家来看老爸了，快进来贝弗莉。看到你可真高兴。我太高兴了，因为我一直为作担心，担心极了。 她沿着小路慢慢地走过去，崩裂的水泥路缝里长出的杂草拂着她的裤脚。她看看信箱。一楼——她的呼吸停止了——马什。 但是我不会敲门的。我不想见到他。我不会敲门的。 那是一个坚决的决定！一个决心打开通往充实、有益的一生的决定！她沿着这条路走回去！回到市中心！回到宾馆！收拾行李！叫辆的土！坐上飞机！成功地生活！幸福地死去！ 她还是按响了门铃。听到那熟悉的“叮略”声从客厅里传出来。 寂静无声，没人。她站在门廊上，忐忑不安。 没人在家，她松了口气。现在我可以走了。 可是她又按响了门铃：叮步！No one answered.她想起班思写的那首小诗，想回忆起到底班思是在什么时候、怎么跟她坦白的，为什么。突然又想起那成千上万只白头翁，落在电线上、屋顶上，唧唧喳喳叫个不停。 I gotta go.我已经按了两次门铃，足够了。 但是她又按了一次。 Ding dong! 这一次她听到有人走来，正是她想象中的那个声音：一双旧拖鞋疲惫地趿拉着。她紧张地看看四周，几乎想转身跑开。她能跑到这条水泥路的尽头，拐过街角，让她父亲以为是孩子们在搞恶作剧吗？ 她长舒了一口气，控制着自己才没有笑出来。根本不是她父亲。 站在过道上正望着她的是一个70多岁的老妇人。美丽的长发几乎全白了，只露出金黄的几缕。无边眼镜后面一双湛蓝的眼睛，紫色的丝绸长裙虽然旧了但仍然显得很高雅，慈祥的脸上刻满了皱纹。 "What's the matter, miss?" “对不起。”贝弗莉说。她注意到那老妇人劲上戴着一枚浮雕项坠，好像是象牙的，镶着一道细细的金边。“我肯定是敲错门了。”或许是故意敲错的，她想。“我是想找马什家。” “马什？”老妇人的额头布满了细细的皱纹。 “对，您——”这里没有姓马什的。“老妇人说。 "but--" “莫非……你指的是艾尔文。马什，是吗？” “正是！”贝弗莉说。“我父亲！” 那个老妇人抬手摸摸那个浮雕项坠，笑了……笑容里带着一丝悲哀。 “你们怎么就失去了联络呢？小姐。我，一个陌生人，真不愿——第一个告诉你这个消息，但是你父亲已经过世5年了。” “但是……门上……”她又看了一眼，不禁低叫一声，感到有些迷惑。刚才她太激动，那么肯定她的老父亲一定还住在这里，结果把克尔什看成了马什。 “您……认识我父亲吗？” “不太熟。”克尔什太太说。贝弗莉又觉得想笑，什么时候开始她的情绪变得这么反复无常？她也想不起来了——恐怕从很久以前就开始了吧。“他先我粗了一层的公寓。我们见过面，我来，他走，也就几天的工夫。他搬到洛瓦德巷去了。你知道那里吗广”知道。“贝弗莉说。离这里四个街区远的一条小巷，那里的房子更小、更破。 “我曾经在卡斯特罗大街市场上见过他，”克尔什太太说，“洗衣店倒闭前，在那里也见过他。我们——姑娘，你脸色苍白，对不起。 进来我给你泡杯茶吧。 " “不，我不能。”贝弗莉无力地说，但实际上她真的感到很乏力。 她可以喝杯茶，在椅子上坐一会儿。 “你可以，你会的。”克尔什太太热情地说。“告诉你这么～个悲惨的消息，我只能做这么一点来弥补我的过失了。” 贝弗莉还没来得及推辞，就已经被领进了幽暗的门厅，走进曾经住过的家。这里现在看上去小了些，但是很安全——安全，她想着，因为这里的一切都不同了。原来那张粉红色的小桌换成一张小圆桌，上面还摆着一瓶绢花。炉子虽小，但是烧得很旺。明亮的蓝色窗帘，窗外还摆着几盆花。油毡地板已被撤掉，露出木头的原色。 克尔什太太正在烧水，抬起头问她：“你在这里长大？” “是的。”贝弗莉说。“但是现在大不一样了……这么干净和整洁……真太好了！” “水还没开，你随便看看吧，小姐！” “不，我怎么能——” 她还是看了。她父母的卧室现在是克尔什太太的卧室，变化很大。屋子里更明亮、更通风了。一只大大的雪松木箱上刻着RG两个字母，散发着淡淡的香味。她的房间改成了缝纫室。一面墙上挂着耶稣像，另一面墙上挂着肯尼迪的画像。 最后她走进卫生间。 这里重新装饰成玫瑰红色，所有的东西都是新的。但是当她走进那个面盆的时候，她还是感到那个古老的噩梦又一次紧紧地抓住了她；她低头看那黑洞洞的下水口就会听到那低语声，就会看到鲜血她弯下腰，盯着水槽的下水口，等着那个声音：笑声，呻吟声，鲜血。 她不知道自己弯着腰在那里站了多久，等着27年前看到、听到的一切。克尔什太太的声音把她唤醒：“喝茶，小姐！” 她猛地惊醒过来，转身离开卫生间。如果从前下水道里有什么邪恶的巫术，那么现在已经消失了……或者睡着了。 “请坐，”克尔什太太说，“小姐，请坐，我给你倒茶。” “我不是小姐。”贝弗莉说着伸出左手给她看结婚戒指。 克尔什太太笑着一甩手。“我把漂亮的姑娘都称做小姐，”她说，“习惯而已。请别在意。” “不，”贝弗莉说，“没关系。”但是不知怎的，她感到一丝不安：那老妇人的笑容里好像带着点儿……什么？不快？hypocritical?狡黠？但是这种想法很可笑，是吗？ “我真喜欢您这里的布置。” “是吗？”克尔什太太给她倒好茶，那茶水看起来又黑又混。贝弗莉觉得自己并不想喝……而且突然间她根本就不想再留在这里。 门上的确写的是“马什”，她突然想起来，感到很恐惧。 克尔什太太把茶递给她。 “谢谢。”贝弗莉说。茶水看上去混浊不清，但是味道醇香。她尝了一口。别神经过敏了，她告诉自己。“特别是那个雪松木箱。” “那是件古董卢克尔什太太说着大笑起来。贝弗莉注意到老妇人身上有一个缺陷，破坏了她的扭力。她的牙齿很糟糕——看上去很坚硬，但是精透了。一口黄牙，两颗门牙交错在一起。两颗犬牙很长，像大象的长牙。 她的牙齿雪白……她打开门冲你笑的时候，你心里还想她的牙齿多白啊。贝弗莉突然感到有些恐惧。突然间她想……需要……离开这里。 “非常老了，哦，是的！”克尔什太太呼喊着，端起茶杯一饮而尽，喉咙里发出咕略咕略的声响。她冲贝弗莉微笑着——阴险地笑着——贝弗莉看到那个妇人的眼睛也变了。混浊不清的眼角布满了血丝。她的头发也变得稀薄了；发辫暗无光泽，不再是露着几缕金丝的银发，而是一片灰白。 “很老了。”克尔什太太好像在追忆往事，一双狡猾的黄眼睛看着贝弗莉，充满恶意地咧嘴笑着，露出令人恶心的断牙。“我从家里带来的。上面刻着RG，你注意到了吗？” “是的。”她的声音好像很遥远，意识的某一个角落在不停地大声说：“如果她不知道你注意到了那些变化，那么你也许不会有事，如果她不知道，没看见——” “我父亲。”她说起话来口齿不清，贝弗莉看到她的衣服也变了，变成粗糙、破烂的黑衫。浮雕项坠竟是一颗张着大嘴的头颅。“他的名字叫罗伯特。格雷，更多的人知道他叫鲍伯。格雷，更多的人称他是跳舞的小丑潘尼瓦艾。虽然那也不是他的真名。他就是喜欢开玩笑，我父亲。” 她又大笑起来，有的牙齿已经变得乌黑，脸上的皱纹更深了，白皙红润的皮肤变成病态的黄色。手指变成爪子，例着嘴，冲贝弗莉笑着。“来点儿吃的吧，亲爱的。” “不了，谢谢。”贝弗莉的声音听起来像是个吓坏了的孩子。 “不？”那个女巫笑着说。她的爪子在盘中刮擦出刺耳的响声。她抓起甜饼、蛋糕胡乱塞进嘴里。她那可怕的牙齿一伸一缩咀嚼着，又长又脏的指甲插进小甜点；下巴上粘满碎屑。她的呼吸散发着死人的腐臭，她的笑是死人的狞笑。她的头发越来越少，露出几块光亮的秃顶。 “哦，他很喜欢开玩笑，我父亲！这就给你说个笑话，小姐，如果你喜欢的话：我是我父亲生的，而不是我妈妈生的。他从屁脆把我拉下来！嘿！嘿！嘿！” “我得走了。”贝弗莉听到自己受伤了似地尖叫。可是她的腿却软弱无力，隐约感到茶杯里不是茶，而是尿，从德里地下的下水道里取来的尿。她竟然喝了，虽然不多，只有一口。“哦，天啊，哦，天啊，哦，万能的上帝，请，请——” 那个妇人在她面前一点点缩小，现在坐在她对面的是一个干瘪丑陋的老太婆，尖声笑着，前仰后合。 “哦，我父亲和我是一体，”她说，“只有我，只有他，亲爱的，如果你够聪明就跑吧，跑回你来的地方，快点儿跑，因为留下来就意味着比死更惨的结局。你以前就知道，现在相信了吧。” 贝弗莉慢慢地站起来，惊恐、怀疑地退后几步。怀疑因为她才意识到这个干净整洁的小餐桌不是橡木做的，而是牛奶软糖。那个女巫还笑个不停，古老的黄眼睛诡秘地瞥了一眼屋角，折断一块橡木，塞进黑洞洞的嘴里。 杯子原来是涂了蓝色糖霜的树皮。耶稣和肯尼迪的画像是棉花糖，贝弗莉看到耶稣吐着长舌，肯尼迪邪恶地眨了眨眼睛。 “我们都在等你！”女巫尖叫一声，她的手在奶油软糖上抓来抓起，在光滑的表面上留下深深的疤痕。 “哦，天啊。这就是那个可怕的女巫，因为她吃小孩——” “你和你的朋友！”女巫放声大笑。“你和你的朋友！装在笼子里！ 装在笼子里等火炉烧热了！“她又尖声笑起来。贝弗莉朝门口跑去，却跑不快。女巫的笑声像一群编幅在她头顶盘旋。贝弗莉尖叫一声，门厅里散发着蔗糖、奶油杏仁糖、太妃糖和人造草海酱的恶臭。进来时还崭新光亮的把手现在也变成了一块大冰糖。 “我为你担心，贝弗莉……我很担心！” 贝弗莉回过头，看见老父亲穿着女巫的黑衫，戴着女巫的头颅项坠，正蹒跚着向她走来；父亲臃肿的胖脸上眼睛像黑色的矿石，像个醉汉似地咧嘴笑着。 贝弗莉惊叫一声，拉开门，跳到外面铺着牛奶软糖的门廊上。视线中的汽车好像很遥远、模糊，在那里游来游去。 我得离开这里，她的意识还有一点清晰。外面就是现实，只要我能走到人行道上——“跑对你可没有任何好处，贝弗莉，”她父亲大笑着，“我们已经等了很久了。这会很有趣的。你会成为我们肚子里的美餐。” 她又回过头，看见她死去的父亲穿的不是女巫的黑衫，而是缀着橘黄色大扣子的小丑的衣服。一只手拿着一把气球，另一只手拿着一个孩子的大腿，就像拿着一只鸡腿。每个气球上都写着“它来自外星”。 “告诉你的朋友，我是一个已经灭亡的种族里剩下的最后一个。” 它一边说着，笑着，东倒西歪地走下台阶。“是一个灭亡的星球上惟一的幸存者。我来到这里抢劫所有的女人……还要强奸所有的男人它疯狂地笑起来，一手拿着气球，一手拿着流血的大腿。小丑的衣服在不停地翻腾、飞舞，但是贝弗莉感觉不到有风吹过。她的腿绊在一起，一下子趴在人行道上。 小丑又向她走来，把那条割下来的大腿扔在一边。贝弗莉在人行道上趴了一会儿，意识中有一个声音告诉她，她必须尽快醒来，这不可能是真的，一定是梦——小丑那双弯曲的利爪还没碰到她，她立刻就意识到她的想法不是真的。它是真的，它可能会杀掉她，就像杀掉那些孩子一样。 “那些白头翁知道你的真名！”她尖叫着，脱口而出。它退缩了，红色油彩画出来的笑容由于憎恨和痛苦而扭曲在一起……也许还有几分恐惧，也许只是她的想象。她全然不知自己为什么会说出这些疯话，但是那至少为她赢得了一点时间。 她站起来就跑，恍惚中听到汽车急刹车发出的尖锐的声音，司机疯狂的叫骂，还感到身体左边隐隐作痛。她站在对面的人行道上，喘着粗气。 小丑消失了，那条腿也没了。房子还在那里，但是现在那座房子破落颓废，窗子都已经封死，通向门廊的台阶也破碎断裂了。 我真的到过那里，还是一场梦？ 但是她的牛仔裤脏了，黄色罩衫粘满了泥土，手指上还粘着巧克力。 她在裤子上擦了擦手，快步离开这里。她的脸滚烫，但是后背冰凉。随着剧烈的心跳，眼球好像要跳出来似的。 我们打不过它。不管它是什么，我们都打不过它。它甚至想让我们试试——它要了给那笔旧账。我们应该离开这里……赶紧离开。 什么东西蹭着她的小腿。 她尖叫一声跳开了。是一只黄气球。上面写着一排蓝色的大字：那就对了，姑娘。 她目不转睛地看着。气球在暮春轻柔的微风里，轻轻地飘走了。 4 那天亨利和他的朋友追我——就在放假前，那是…… 理奇正走在运河外街上，经过巴斯公园。他双手插兜，站在那里，心不在焉地眺望开心桥。 我藏在弗里希玩具店，躲过了他们…… 自从聚餐会上做出那个疯狂的决定，他一直都心不在焉，想尽量忘记幸运喜饼里爬出的那些可怕的东西……他想很可能那里面什么东西也没有，只不过是因为他们一直在谈论那些令人毛骨悚然的谋杀，所以大伙都产生了幻觉。最好的证明就是老板娘根本什么都没有看到。当然贝弗莉的父母也从来没有看到下水道里涌出的鲜血，但这一次与从前不同。 不同吗？Why is it different? “因为我们都是成年人了。”他嘀咕着，却发现自己的想法没有丝毫的说服力和逻辑性，就像孩子们跳绳时唱的歌谣没有任何意义。 He kept going. 我走到城市中心广场，在公园的长椅上坐了一会儿，那时我看见了…… 他又停了脚步，眉头紧锁。 看见什么了？ ……只是一个梦。 Yeah?真是梦吗？ 我就在这里，他想。回到了这个狗屁城市中心广场。那个幻觉发生的地方。或者是梦，或者是别的什么东西。 别人都以为他是班上的小丑，一个爱炫耀的疯子。现在他又轻而易举地扮演起从前的角色。啊，难道你没注意到吗？我们都轻轻松松地扮演起过去的角色。但是那有什么奇怪的吗？在任何一个中学同学聚会上都会看到同样的景象。 但是你提到成年人。现在听起来简直是一派胡言，根本就是无稽之谈。为什么，理奇？Why? 因为德里还是像从前那样诡谲。为什么我们不能由它去呢？ 因为事情并非那么简单。 他是个滑稽人物，每分钟都在制造笑料。最后他终于忘记了那些噩梦，或者自以为如此。知道今天“成年人”这几个字突然失去了真正的意义。在这里有一些事情要处理，或者至少要想想清楚；这里就是耸立在城市中心广场前的那座高大、愚蠢的保罗·班扬的塑像。 我肯定是个例外，比尔。 你肯定没有发生过任何事情，理奇？一点没有？ 在城市中心广场……我觉得我看见了…… 他的眼睛又感到一阵针刺般的剧痛，双手捂住眼睛，发出一声痛苦的呻吟，转眼间疼痛消失了。但是他已经闻到了什么东西，是吗？ 那东西此时不在这里，但是曾经出现在这里，那东西使他想起了——我就在你身边，理奇。抓住我的手，能抓得到吗？ 麦克·汉伦。是那烟雾刺得他双眼流泪。27年前他曾经闻过这种烟雾；最后只剩下麦克和他自己，他们看到——但是记忆的信号又中断了。 他走近那座塑料塑像，还像儿时惊叹它的高大那样，深深地为它那兴致勃勃的庸俗感到惊讶。记得那时人们还为是否应该耗费巨资造这么一座塑像而争论不休。最后终于在1957年5月13日纪念小镇150周年诞辰的那一天被屹立在这里。 那是第二年春天，筋疲力尽、万分恐慌的理奇惊险地躲过那几个小混蛋，坐在塑像前的长椅上。鲍尔斯、克里斯和哈金斯追着他，从德里小学穿过大半个镇子，最后在弗里希玩具店他才把他们甩掉。 他从弗里希跑出来，大约跑了一英里左右，来到城市中心广场前……他真诚地希望自己已经躲过了危险。至少眼下。他累极了，坐在保罗。班杨左边的一条长椅上，想静静地歇一会儿，缓缓力气再回家。 坐在那里可以看到草坪那边城市中心广场的遮篷，上面写着半透明的蓝色大字：嗨，年轻人！