Chapter 26 Chapter 25

Nick Andros drew the curtain aside and looked out into the street.From here, on the 3rd floor of the late John Baker's home, you can see the business district of Shoyo to the left and Route 63 out of town to the right.The main streets have long been deserted, and the signs of businesses have withered.A sick dog was squatting in the middle of the road, its head drooping, its ribs heaving and panting heavily, foam dripping from its mouth onto the hot road.The ditches were half-blocked, and there was a dead dog lying in them. The woman behind him mumbled gutturally, and Nick didn't know what she was saying.He closed the curtains, rubbed his eyes, and walked towards the woman who woke up.Jenny Baker wrapped herself tightly in a blanket and was still sweating from a cold she had caught a few days ago.She kicked off the blanket covering her body, and he was embarrassed to see that her thin pajamas were transparent in places with sweat.But she didn't even look at him.

"John, get the spittoon. I'm going to throw up!" she cried. He took out the pan from under the bed and placed it next to her. She turned over and knocked it to the floor again, making a dull clang.He bent down to pick up the spittoon and held it, staring at her. "John!" she screamed, "I can't find my sewing box! It's not in the bathroom!" He poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table and held it to her mouth, but she rolled over again, nearly knocking the glass out of his grasp.He put the cup where it would be within reach once she calmed down.

He had never been more poignantly aware of the silence he had displayed over the past two days.When Nick came here on the 23rd, the Methodist pastor Braceman was staying with her.Braceman was reading the Bible with her in the living room, but he looked nervous and eager to leave.Nick might guess the reason for this.The high fever made her flushed with a girlish radiance that was out of proportion to her state of mourning.Or maybe the pastor was worried that she would be rude to him.Though more likely he was anxious to get his family together and disappear from the place as soon as possible.The news spread quickly in this small town, and everyone else had decided to leave Shuoyou Town.

Forty-eight hours since Bressman left Baker's living room, everything has become a daydream.Mrs. Baker was getting sicker and sicker, and Nick was worried that she wouldn't make it out until the sun went down. Mrs. Baker was so ill that he couldn't sit across from her.He went down to the truck park below to retrieve lunch for the three prisoners, but Vince Hogan couldn't eat anything, he was in a coma.Mike Childress and Billy Warner wanted to go outside, but Nick couldn't let them do so.It wasn't a worry, and he didn't believe they were wasting his work time trying to settle their grievances; they just wanted to get out of Seo-yo like everyone else.He is responsible.He made a promise to a man who is now dead.Sooner or later the State Patrol would be aware of the situation and send someone to take them away.

He found a .45 caliber pistol in a holster at the bottom of Baker's desk drawer, thought for a few minutes, and put it on.Looking down and seeing the wooden handle of the pistol against his hip made him feel a little ridiculous--but the weight was right. He opened Vince's cell on the afternoon of the 23rd and put makeshift ice packs on his forehead, chest and neck.Vince opened his eyes and stared at Nick with such a calm, uncomfortable expression that Nick wished he would say something, just as he had wished Mrs. Baker had done for two days, just say something that would make him feel Anything for a moment of comfort. "You are really a good person, otherwise I would have a high fever."

Whenever he went to tend to Vince, Billy and Mike used to yell at him, and when he bent over this patient they didn't care about, every time he looked up, he could always see the terrified look of those two people. Faces, the words that come out of their mouths are always the same thing: please let us out.Nick kept a careful distance from them.He was just an adult, but he also knew that panic would make these two men dangerous. For the fourth time that afternoon he was on the almost empty street, expecting to find Dr. Soames for Vince Hogan and Jenny Baker on this side or the other.He looked for Dr. Soames' car, but there was no sign of it.Only a few stores and Texas companies were still open in the afternoon, but he was increasingly convinced that the town was being emptied.People took village trails, logging roads and even the Shoyo Creek through Smackover to the town of Mount Hawley.Nick thinks more people leave after dark.

It was sunset when Nick arrived at the Baker's house, and he found Jenny shivering about the kitchen in her bathrobe, busy making tea.When he came in she gave Nick a grateful glance, and he saw that her fever was gone. "Thank you so much for taking care of me," she said gently. "I feel better. Would you like a cup of tea?" Then the tears began again. He walked towards her, worried that she might collapse on the hot stove from collapse. She took his arm firmly and rested her head on him, her black hair hanging over her pale blue bathrobe. "John," she said in the darkened kitchen, "oh, my poor John."

Nick would probably be embarrassed if he could talk.But he could only support her and lead her out of the kitchen to a chair by the table. "How about some tea?" He pointed to the chair for her to sit down. "Well," she said, "I'm feeling better, really good. Just...but..." She put her hands to her face. Nick poured out tea and brought it to the table.They drank in silence with each other for a while.She held the teacup with both hands like a child.Finally she put down her glass and said, "How many people are there in town today? Nick." "I don't know either," Nick wrote. "It's very bad."

"Have you seen the doctor?" "Haven't seen him since this morning." "If he's not paying attention, he'll be worn out, too," she said. "He'll have to watch out, won't he, Nick. He won't be worn out, will he?" Nick nodded and forced a smile. "What happened to John's prisoners? Did the patrol come to save them?" "No," Nick wrote, "Hogan is very sick. I'm doing what I can. The others want me to get them out before Hogan infects them." "Can't let them out!" she said with some emotion. "I hope you don't think about it."

"No way," Nick wrote, adding a moment later: "You need to go to bed, you need to rest." She smiled at him.Nick could see a dark shadow under her jaw as she swung her head—he was still not sure if she would be out of danger. "Yeah, I've got to go to bed for an hour. In a way, it seems like a mistake to have sex with that dead John...you know, I can't believe he's dead." He pulled her back Holding her arms tightly, she smiled bleakly. "Probably something to live for. Have you got the prisoners supper, Nick." Nick shook his head. "You gotta get it. Why don't you drive John's car?"

"I don't know how to drive," Nick wrote, "but thanks for reminding me. I'm going to the parking lot right now. It's not far, and I'll see you in the morning if everything works out." "Well," she said, "that's nice." He stood up and pointed to the teacup solemnly. "Not a drop," she promised. He was about to walk out the screen door when he felt her hesitate to touch his arm. "John..." she called, and he paused, then forced himself to go on. "I hope they . Nick nodded.Tears streamed down her face, and she began to sob again. After leaving her that night, he went directly to the complex parking lot. A "Closed Door" sign hung crookedly on the window.He went around to the trailer in the back, but it was locked and dark.No one answered his knock on the door.At this point he felt justified breaking in, having enough money in Baker's small cash box to cover any damage. He smashed the glass of the restaurant, unlocked it, and walked in.This place is kind of weird, even all the lights are on, the jukebox is dark and the lights are not turning, the bumper cars and video games are empty, the booths are empty, the benches are unoccupied.The shroud was hung on the iron bars. Nick backed out and fried a few hamburgers on the gas burner and put them in the bag.Added another bottle of milk and half an apple pie to the plastic dome on the counter, and went back to the prison.Left a note on the counter before leaving stating who broke down the door and why. Vince Hogan is dead.He was lying on the floor surrounded by piles of melted ice and wet towels.He gripped his neck tightly with his hands, as if desperately resisting an invisible strangler.His fingertips were covered in blood, and swarms of flies were buzzing and flying around him.His neck was swollen and black like the inner tube of an inattentive child about to burst. "Now you're letting us out?" asked Mike Childress. "He's dead, you bastard dumb, and you're satisfied now, aren't you feeling avenged?" Now he's going to die too," he said, pointing to Billy Warner. Billy watched all this in horror.His neck and forehead were covered with flushed patches; the sleeves of the smock he used to wipe his nose were covered with crusty scabs.He kept tapping his forehead as he stared at Nick with swollen eyes. Nick didn't push the food in with the broom until he got tired.Billy Warner stared at him hesitantly for a moment before he began to eat. Mike threw the milk at the iron gate.The glass broke and the milk splashed everywhere.He threw his two patties at the graffiti-smeared back wall of his room.One of them was glued to the trim in the middle of the chair back.Mustard and ketchup splashed all over the place, and he stepped on the apple pie in a rhythmic, almost dancing way.Chunks of apples had been trampled to pieces, and the white plastic tray was crumbling to pieces. "I'm on a hunger strike!" he yelled. "Fucking hunger strike! I won't eat anything! Make me eat what you bring me unless you eat my shit. You deaf and dumb stupid Pig, you will..." Nick turned and walked away silently and immediately.He went back to the office, too scared to know what to do.If he could drive, he'd take them to Camden, but he couldn't.And he had to think about what to do with Vince, he couldn't let him lie here and feed the flies. Two doors near the office were open.One of the rooms is a cloakroom and the other leads up to a flight of stairs.Nick went down the stairs and saw that it was a basement used for storage.It was cool in there, at least for a moment. He turned and walked up.Mike sat on the floor, frowningly picked up the crushed apple pieces, wiped them casually, and ate them without looking up at Nick. Nick stretched out his arms and tried to pull Vince up.The stench of corpses made his stomach churn.Vince was too heavy.He stared helplessly at the body for a while, and then became aware that the other two were standing by the door of the cell at this moment, looking at him in bewilderment.Nick could guess what they were thinking.Vince was one of them, probably the most whiny of them all, and the one they wanted to hang.He died like a rat caught in a trap, from some horrible swelling that they couldn't figure out.Nick wondered more than once that day when he too would start coughing and having a fever and developing that weird swelling in his neck. He grabbed Vince Hogan by the fleshy forearm and pulled him out of the cell.With the weight on his shoulders, Vince's head was tilted towards him, seemingly staring at Nick, telling him wordlessly to be careful not to shake too much. It took a full 10 minutes to drag the strong man's body down the steep steps.Taking a deep breath, Nick laid him on the concrete floor under the fluorescent lights, then quickly pulled a frayed army blanket from the cot in his cell and covered him. Then he wanted to take a nap.After the 23rd, he only slept for a while in the first few hours yesterday, when the 24th began.The dreams I had were still vivid in my mind, and sometimes I was even afraid of them.He had very few real nightmares in the past, but recently he had more and more ominous dreams, and it gave him the feeling that none of these dreams resembled the present scene.The normal world has become a place where babies are sacrificed in locked basements with curtains drawn. And, rightfully so, his greatest personal fear is that he tends to wake up from a dream. He slept for a while, and had a dream that he used to have often: a cornfield, rising from the warm smell, making people feel that there is something, or someone, that is comfortable and safe, purely a A feeling of being at home.When he realized that there was something staring at him around the corner, he began to sink into cold terror again.He thought: Damn, the weasel has entered the chicken coop!He woke up in the morning light, covered in sweat. He made coffee and went over to check on his two prisoners. Mike Childress is still crying.Behind him, the hamburger was still glued to the wall like a dry jelly. "Are you satisfied now? I'm dying too. What the hell do you want? You get revenge? Listen to me, I'm talking to you like a train full of goddamn cargo going up a hill !" But Nick is most concerned about Billy Warner lying unconscious in bed.His neck was swollen and black, and his chest was heaving and convulsing. He hurried back to his office, staring at the phone, angry and guilty.He pounded his fist on the table, and the unplugged phone lay pointlessly on the floor there.He turned off the electric stove and rushed out into the street to Baker's house.He rang the doorbell for what seemed to be an hour before Jenny came down wrapped in her bathrobe and opened the door.The sweat from the fever remained on her face.Although she was not unconscious, her speech was slow and slurred, and her lips were blistered. "Come on in, Nick, what's the matter?" Nick wrote: "Vince Hogan died last night. I think Werner is dying too. He is very ill. Have you seen Dr. Soames?" She shook her head, shivered for a while, coughed again, and her legs wobbled.Nick quickly put his hands around her arms and helped her into the chair."Could you make a call to this office for me?" he wrote. "Okay, no problem. Get the phone, Nick. I seem to be... ill again in the night." He brought over the telephone and she dialed Dr. Soames' number.After she put the receiver to her ear for more than half a minute, he already knew that no one would answer the phone. She called the doctor's house and the nurse's house again, but no one answered the phone. "I'll call the State Patrol again," she said.But after dialing a number, she put the phone back on the hook. "I guess the long-distance station is still not working. After I dialed 1, I could only hear the buzzing sound." She gave him a sad smile, and the tears began to flow helplessly again. "Poor Nick," she said, "poor me, poor everybody. Can you help me up the stairs? I feel so weak that I can't seem to breathe. I think I'll be with you soon." John is together." He looked at her, wishing she would go on. "I think I should lie down, if you can help me." He helped her upstairs before writing: "I'll be back." "Thank you, Nick. You're such a good boy..." She had fallen asleep without knowing it. Nick left the building and stood on the sidewalk wondering what to do next.If he can drive, he can do a lot of things.But…… He saw a stroller lying on the grass of a family across the street.He walked over, stared for a moment at the long shadowed house (it was like the houses in his messy dreams), then approached the house again and knocked on the door.Despite knocking many times, no one answered. He turned back to the baby carriage.It was a small bike, not too small for him to ride, if he didn't mind touching his knees to the handlebars.Of course, it would look ridiculous to be on a bike like this, but he couldn't care less about that...even if it was seen, he didn't think it would be laughable. He got on his bike and lumbered up Main Street, past the prison, and onto Route 63 at the east end of town, heading for the place Joe Lachman had seen soldiers dressed as road workers go.If the soldiers were still there, and they were soldiers, Nick could lead them into the care of Billy Warner and Mike Childress.As long as Billy is alive, things will be fine.If those people can quarantine Shuoyou Town, then they must be responsible for the disease in Shuoyou Town later. The bike rocked back and forth like crazy, never going in a straight line, and his knees kept hitting the handlebars invariably.An hour had passed by the time he finally rode to that section of road.But when he got there, the soldiers who had been there, or the road builders, or whoever, were gone.There were only a few piles of ash, one of which was still smoking.There stood two sawhorses.The road was in dilapidated condition, though Nick decided it would still be passable if he didn't feel bad about the car's springs. A mass of moving black things met his eyelids, and at the same time, the wind picked up a faint summer breath, and his nose smelled a disgusting stench of corruption.The moving black thing is a group of flies that gather and scatter from time to time.He put down the car and went to the open ditch on the other side of the road.There, next to a newly laid corrugated drainpipe, were the bodies of four men.Their necks and swollen faces had turned black.Nick didn't know if they were soldiers or not, and he didn't dare to look any closer.He told himself he had to get back to the bike, there was nothing to be afraid of, they were dead people, and dead people couldn't hurt you.He immediately ran away in a panic.When he was riding back to Shuoyou Town, he really panicked.On reaching the outskirts of town, he hit a rock and damaged his bike.He fell over the handlebars, smashing his head and bruising his hands.He only squatted in the middle of the road for a short while, and then walked unsteadily again. In the morning, Nick knocked on the door and rang the bell, and tossed about for an hour and a half.Someone will live here, he told himself.He feels pretty good about himself, and he's sure he won't be the only one here.There would be someone else here, a man, a woman, maybe a teenager with a license to practice, and he or she would say, "Hey, hello, seriously, let's get them to Camden. We should get a car." Or something like that. He knocked and knocked, pressed and pressed, dozens of houses passed by, but few people answered.The door of the house was opened a crack the width of the chain, and a sickly but hopeful face looked out, and the hope disappeared when it saw Nick.A look of disbelief crept into that face, which moved back and forth, and closed the door.If Nick could talk, he'd ask them if they could still walk, if they could drive.If they could get his prisoners to Camden, they could go there too, for there was a hospital there, and they'd be all right.But he can't speak. He was asked if he had seen Dr. Soames.A furious man slammed the door of the bungalow open, staggered out onto the veranda in a pair of drawers, and tried to grab Nick.He said he intends to do "everything I can to get you back to Houston."He seemed to recognize Nick as someone named Jenner.After Nick was scared like a zombie from a third-rate horror movie, he was still stumbling around on the porch.There was a foul smell coming from the crotch; the underpants looked like a melon stuffed.At last he collapsed on the veranda and Nick watched him from the lawn below, his heart beating wildly.The man shook his fist weakly, then crawled in without forgetting to close the door. Most of the houses were eerily quiet, and eventually there was nothing he could do.That sense of nightmare was coming to his mind, but the thought that he was knocking on the door of hell was hard to get rid of from his mind. He was knocking on the door to wake up the dead, and those corpses would answer sooner or later.He knew that most of the houses were empty, that the owners had fled to Camden or El Dorado or Texarkana, and it didn't matter. He walked back to Baker's house.Jenny Baker had slept soundly, her brow cooling down. It's noon.Nick came to the parking lot and felt the sight of his night damage.After he fell off the bike, his whole body was convulsed.Baker's pistol was still slung over his hip.In the parking lot he warmed up two cans of soup and poured them into thermoses.The milk in the refrigerator didn't seem to be bad, so I took a bottle by the way. Billy Warner is dead.When Mike saw Nick, he started to giggle hysterically again, pointed at Nick and said, "Two are down, and the other is going to die! Two are down, and the other is going to die too!" Now you've got your revenge! Right? Right?" With great care Nick pushed a thermos of soup into the cell with a broom, and then a tall glass of milk.Mike sipped the soup directly from the thermos.Nick took his thermos and sat down in the hallway.He had to get Billy downstairs, but he had to eat lunch first.He is starving.As he sipped his soup, he looked at Mike thoughtfully. "Do you want to know how I am?" Mike asked. Nick nodded. "Same as when you left this morning. I blew a pound of my nose." He stared at Nick hopefully. It's not a serious case, huh? You think it is?" Nick shrugged, meaning anything can happen. "I've got a goshawk personality," Mike said, "and while I don't think it's a big deal, I think I've got to get over it. Listen, man, let me out. Please. I'm struggling I beg you." Nick thought about it. "Broken, you're still carrying a gun. I'm not going to cause trouble for you, not at all. I just want to get out of this town. I want to see my wife first..." Nick pointed to Mike's left hand, where there was no ring. "Yeah, we're divorced, but she still lives in that town not far from Ridgerod. I wanna stop by and see her. What are you trying to say, man?" Mike cried. Take a chance. Don't lock me in this shabby house again." Nick stood up slowly, walked back to the office, and opened the drawer.The keys are all there.Men's logic was relentless; but there was no longer the feeling that someone was going to come and help them out.He took the key and came back.He took the key with the white string that Big John Baker had shown him, and threw it to Mike Childress through the bars. "Thanks," Mike babbled, "hey, thank you so much. I'm so sorry for hitting you. I swear to God, it was Ray's idea, and Vince and I tried to stop him, but he was drunk Like a madman..." He hastily inserted the key into the lock.Nick stepped back, his hand on the butt of the gun. The cell door opened and Mike stepped out. "I'm saying," he said, "that all I want to do is get out of town." He sidled past Nick, lips twitching, and shot out between the cell block and the office. that door.Nick followed him until he saw the office door close behind him. Nick came outside.Mike stood on the curb, his hand on the parking meter, watching the empty street. "My God," he muttered, turning his bewildered face to Nick, "is this all? Is this all?" Nick nodded, but kept his hand on the butt of the gun. Mike started to say something, then coughed again.He covered his mouth and pressed his lips. "I'm going to be the savior of this place," he said. "You're so thoughtful, and you'll be the savior too, dumb. It's some sort of black plague or something." Nick shrugged.Mike started walking to the sidewalk.He walked faster and faster, almost running.Nick watched him until he was out of view, then walked in.After that, he never saw Mike again.He felt much lighter, and suddenly he realized that he had done the right thing.He lay down on the cot and immediately fell asleep. He slept all afternoon on the bed without a blanket, and then woke up dripping with sweat and feeling much more comfortable.Thunderstorms were raging in the mountains. Although he couldn't hear the thunder, he could see the blue and white forked lightning piercing the mountains.No one came to Shuoyou Town at night. At dusk he came to the street, near Polly Radio and TV, and he broke in again.Leaving a note at the cashier, he carried a portable Sony TV back to the prison.He turned on the TV and selected the channel. The CBS station is broadcasting a message: The microwave relay station is out of order and is continuing to tune. ABC was doing "I Love Lucy," and NBC was rerunning a series about a pretty young girl who wants to be a racing circuit mechanic.Texarkana, an independent network dedicated to old movies, contests, and Jack Van Impi-like religious clowns, has nothing. Nick clicked off the TV, went to the parking lot, and made enough soup and sandwiches for two.He puts the food in a large basket with a lid.On the way to Jenny Baker's house three or four dogs, apparently famished from being left unfed, gathered before him, attracted by the smell of the food in the basket.Nick pulls out his gun, and he doesn't make up his mind to shoot until a dog almost bites him.He pulled the trigger, and the bullet whizzed and hit the concrete five feet in front of him, leaving a trail of silvery lead.He heard no pop, but felt a heavy vibration.Several dogs ran away barking wildly. Jenny was asleep, her forehead and cheeks still hot, her breathing slow and labored.Nick got a cold towel and wiped her face, put her share of food on the bedside table, then went into the living room and turned on the large floor-standing color TV. CBS was absent all night. NBC is still broadcasting the scheduled program, but the image of ABC sub-channel is blurred, and sometimes there will be large snowflakes or even suddenly cut off. The ABC channel only shows some of the syndicate's programming, and it seems that its line to the network is still working.It's irrelevant, Nick is waiting for the news. When the news finally started, Nick was in a daze of surprise.The "pandemic superflu," as everyone is calling it, is still a major topic of news coverage, but newscasters on both stations say the disease is under control.The Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta has developed a flu vaccine that will be available to doctors early next week.New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles and London have reported severe cases, but there are cases everywhere.The newscaster went on to say that in some areas, public gatherings have been temporarily canceled. Nick thought, the whole town of Shuoyou had been wiped out.Who is lying to whom? The newscasters concluded that travel to most major cities has been severely restricted, although those restrictions will be lifted once the vaccine is widely distributed.A plane crash in Michigan followed and some members of Congress reacted to the recent Supreme Court decision on gay rights. Nick turned off the TV and went out onto the Baker's porch.There was a swing-out armchair, and he sat on it.The chair rocked smoothly back and forth, and he failed to hear the harsh creak that came when John Baker forgot to refuel.He saw the extraordinary streaks of light made by fireflies in the darkness.Faint lightning flickers among the clouds on the horizon, and it looks like a dinosaur-sized mass of fireflies has gathered there.The night was stuffy and hot. For Nick, since television is his utterly visible medium, he pays special attention to news reports about things that others might miss.There are no short films on TV, not even one.There was no baseball game either, probably because the games were over.Forecasts were also vague, with no maps showing maximum and minimum temperatures, and it appears the US Weather Service has closed its offices.For all of this, Nick came to the exact opposite conclusions that the TV announcers had. The two newscasters seemed a bit nervous and flustered.One of them also had a cold; he also coughed once into the microphone and said sorry.The eyes of both announcers flicked left and right to the camera they were facing... as if someone was in the studio with them, someone who was there to make sure they didn't make mistakes. It was the night of June 24, and he was sleeping in rags on the front porch of the Baker's house, and he was having very inauspicious dreams.Now, the next afternoon, he was presiding over the death of the lovely woman Jenny Baker...and he couldn't utter a single word that would please her. She was tugging on one of his hands.Nick looked down at her pale, distorted face.Her skin was already a little dry, and the sweat had evaporated.He had lost all hope, and could only seek consolation in it.She was dying, and he was beginning to remember the face. "Nick," she said, and smiled.She wrapped her arms around one of his. "I want to thank you again. Nobody wants to die alone, do they?" He shook his head vigorously, and she understood that it wasn't that he disagreed with her, but that he was in violent conflict with the assumption. "Yes, I'm dying," she contradicted herself, "but please don't mind. There's a dress in the bathroom, Nick, it's the white one. You should recognize it, because..." A cough interrupted her .It wasn't until she got her cough under control that she finished speaking. "... because of the lace. It's the one I wore on the train when we went on our honeymoon. It probably still fits. Maybe I'll be a little bigger now—I've lost a lot of weight—but It doesn't matter anymore. I've always cherished that dress. John and I went to Lake Pontchartrain. It was the happiest two weeks of my life. John always made me happy. Do you remember that A dress, Nick? I hope I can wear it when I'm buried. Help me... help me get dressed, you won't be shy, will you?" Fighting back his emotion, he shook his head, his eyes fixed on the coverlet.She must have felt his mixed emotions of sadness and embarrassment, for she never mentioned the dress again.She talked lightly, almost coquettishly, of other things.How she won a high school speech contest and was a finalist in Arkansas, and how her petticoat fell off and caught on her shoe when she spoke at the climax of Shirley Jackson's "The Devil's Lover." Roll on.About her sister who went to Vietnam as a member of a Christian Baptist group and came back with not one or two but three adopted children.About her camping trip with John three years ago, and how a sick moose bull moose in puberty forced them to climb a tree and stay there all day. "We just stayed there in the tree and we ended up being spoon-shaped," she said dreamily, "like a pair of kid goats on a high school balcony. My gosh, when we came down he was so excited Can't stop.He...we...were in love...deeply in love...Love is the one thing that moves the world, I always thought...Love is what makes men and women stand on a gravitational pull seems to always The only thing in the world that's gonna make them fall... make them fall slowly... kink together...we're...so in love..." She dozed off, then fell asleep, until he drew the curtains aside or stepped on a creaking plank, waking her out of her trance. "John!" she screamed, her voice muffled by phlegm. "Oh, John, I still haven't solved the mystery of Daddy's mousetrap scam! John, you gotta help me! You gotta help me..." The rhythm of her words was drawn out, as difficult to understand as her irregular breathing, but he could feel that the content was all the same.从她的鼻孔里流出了一股细细的黑血。她倒在枕头上，头前后摆来摆去，一次，二次，三次，似乎要做出某种重要的决定，但答案却是否定的。 随后她就不动了。 尼克把手胆怯地放在她的颈部，然后是腕上，最后是乳房之间。那儿什么也感觉不到了，她已经死了。床头柜上的钟表重重地敲了起来，然而他们俩谁也没听到。他把头靠在膝上呆了一会儿，以他特有的无声方式哭了一会儿。鲁迪曾告诉过他：你所能做的一切就是一种缓慢的发泄，在肥皂泡剧世界里，迟早是有用的。 他知道将要发生的而且也是他不想去做的又是什么。这不公平，他的一部分喊道。这不是他的责任。但这里再没有其他人了——也可能方圆多少英里之内都没有另外的人了，他对此负有义不容辞的责任。把她留在这里任其腐烂，他无论如何也做不出来。她一直对他都很好，但沿路有那么多的人，他无论如何也无法把他们全都掩埋掉，不管是已腐烂的还是未腐烂的。他觉得必须行动起来了。在这里坐得越久，什么也不干，所害怕的任务就越多。他知道柯蒂斯殡仪馆就在那里——下去三个街区再往西一个街区。外面也一定热极了。 他强迫自己站起来，走进卫生间，半信半疑地希望那件蜜月服能证明她昏迷中所言是谵妄。但那件衣服却真的就在那儿，只不过随着岁月的流逝，已有点儿发黄了。他认得这件衣服，它和原来并无两样，因为上边仍带着那个花边。他把衣服取下来，抖开在床边的长椅上。他盯着这件衣服，看了看旁边的那个女人，直到看了个够。衣服确实有些大了。对她来说，这种病，这里的一切，都远比她所知道的要残酷许多许多……我猜得对极了。 尽管不情愿，他还是走到她身旁，开始给她脱衣服。当他把睡衣脱掉，发现她赤裸裸地躺在面前时，恐惧感消失了，只有怜悯——这种怜悯是如此之深地击中了他。以致使他感到苦不堪言。他给她擦洗身子，随后给她穿上衣服，他情不自禁地哭了起来。给她穿好衣服后，他抱起她，把这个身着花边服的女人送到殡仪馆，他就像一个新郎官抱着自己深爱的女人一样，跨过一个高高的门槛。