Chapter 32 Chapter 31

Christopher Bredenman struggled desperately in a coma, as if buried in quicksand.His whole body was sore, his face felt as if he had been injected with silicone.In addition, in addition to the pain, there is general fatigue, and there is a feeling like being drowned.To make matters worse, he felt hot.He doesn't remember ever being this hot, like two years ago, when he was chasing two political prisoners who escaped after bail on the road from West Texas to Los Angeles, he felt extremely hot, but this time it was hotter than that time, This time it was internal heat, as if swallowing the sun.

He groaned and tried to kick the covers off, but he couldn't.Did he lie down on the bed by himself?No, he thought, there must be someone or something in the room.Someone or something...he should remember, but he doesn't.He knew someone (or something) was coming, and he had to... what? He groaned again, his head dangling on the pillow, and a hallucination appeared in front of his blurry eyes: his mother, who died in 1969, came to the humble cabin and told him: "Kit, Oh Kit, I'm telling you to stay out of those people, you say you don't care about politics, but the men you deal with are as crazy as mad dogs, and the women are whores, Kit, you want Be obedient..." The mother's face disappeared, and a group of large beetles crawled out of the cracks in the yellow kraft paper before her eyes.He screamed until the darkness came, and suddenly there was a chaotic shout, and many shoes trampling on the ground...Lights, gas lamps, and a strong smell of gas.He fell behind in Chicago, in 1968.From somewhere came the voice of a carol:

Let's see it all over the world!Let's see it all over the world!worldwide…… A girl was lying in the road ditch in the park, wearing overalls, barefoot, her long hair was covered with glass shards, under the ruthless illumination of the street lamps, her face that should have been shining turned black, like a crushed stone. insect mask.He lifted her up.She screamed and flinched as an alien monster was floating from the sky, wearing shiny black boots, a bulletproof vest, a mask showing two triangular eyes, and holding a gun in one hand. A baton, a canister of poison gas in the other hand, grinning, bared teeth.They both screamed as the alien monster tore off its mask and revealed its hideous visage, for this was the man he'd been waiting for, the man Kit Bredenman had been terrified of, "Pacers".Bredenmann's scream shattered his dream.In an apartment on Canyon Boulevard in Boulder, Colorado, he was sweating in a tank top and shorts in the summer heat.In front of you stands the most handsome boy in the world, tall, dark, straight, and he wears lemon briefs that fit every protruding part of his body, and you know, if he turns Come to think of it, he must look like Angel Raphael.Hey Silver, come here, where did you get him, at a conference on racism at Cambridge or the cafeteria or hitchhiking?is it possible?Oh, it's too hot, but fortunately there is water, a big tank of water, carved with grotesque reliefs of men and women, next to the water are pills, not contraceptive pills!The kind that sent him to an angel in buff briefs.Where moving fingers can write letters but can't go on, where flowers grow on dead oak trees, and boy, how hard is a cock in briefs!Was Kit Bredenman Ever So Horny, Ready For Fuck? "Go to bed," you said to that smooth, tanned back, "go to bed, touch me, and then I'll touch you, whatever you like." "You take your medicine first," he said bluntly.You take your medicine, cool water runs down your throat, and for a moment you see something strange, and for a moment you find yourself looking at that fan on a cheap wardrobe, and then you look at your own image in the mirror.Your face looks dark and swollen, but you don't bother because it's just a pill.It's just - the pill! !You whine under your breath, "Oh boy, me and 'Captain's Journey' are horny..." He starts running, and at first, you stare at the naked ass in the briefs, then your attention rises To the flat tanned abs, then to the beautiful bare chest, and finally from the slender, tense neck to the face...that was his face, sullen, gloating, baring his teeth viciously.It's not the face of Raphael's angel, it's the face of a devil, with a sneaky face looming in the eyes; you're screaming, and he's coming up to you, yelling, baby, "Captain Journey "coming.

The face and voice were so vague that he could not remember them. My God, am I dying? He interrupted this thought in extreme pain and terror, his head was so hot that it rolled like a sandstorm.At this time, a sound came from outside the closed bedroom door, and his shortness of breath suddenly stopped. Bradenman initially thought it was a siren on a firetruck or police car.As the distance grew closer and louder, he could hear heavy, ragged footsteps down the hall, past the living room, and then a group of people swarming up the stairs. He lay back on the pillow, his mouth opened in shock, and even his eyes widened in his puffy face.The sound is getting closer and closer, it is not a siren at all, but a scream, like howling ghosts and howling wolves, it is not something that humans can make, nor can humans bear, it is the scream of a banshee or a few imps , as if to take him to hell.

At this moment the sound of running pattered towards him along the upper hall.The creaking of the floorboards proved that the men were running down.Bradenman suddenly understood who it was, and when the door was knocked open, he yelled, and the murderer in the frock jacket ran in, grinning like a knife, his face the same as that of a deranged Santa Claus. His face was as excited as it was, and he held a galvanized steel bucket in his hand. "Ouch……" "No!" Bradenman yelled, arms folded to shield his face. "No! Don't!" The bucket tipped forward, the water flowed out, and all at once, in the buff light, all hung like the largest uncut diamond in the world.In the darkness, he saw that the man in black was refracted into a huge demon, just like a giant who came to the world from the darkest hell.The water dripped on his body, causing his swollen throat to open involuntarily, and the large drop of blood squeezed out from the cell wall made him almost go into shock.He tried to kick the quilt off the foot of the bed.He twitched, his body curled up, and he struggled painfully.

He screamed and screamed, then shivered, drenched from head to toe with fever, had a terrible headache, and had swollen eyes.He had to struggle to breathe, and his body began to tremble and tremble again. "I know it'll put your fever down!" exclaimed the man who took him for Richard Frye briskly.He put down the iron bucket, and the iron bucket clanged, "Say it, tell it, you know what tricks are used. Thank you, my benefactor, thank you for being so considerate to me. Do you thank me? No? Yes No? I know you dare not." "yes!" He jumped into the air, his legs stretched out straight.After a while, the water ran out, and a sticky mass flowed out of Bredenman's soaked pajamas and pajamas, and Bredenman cried weakly.One knee rested on his chest, and Richard Fry's blue-jeaned thighs rested slowly on his chest, his face roasting Bredenman's face like a cellar torch in a gothic novel.

"Wake up, buddy," Frye said, "I don't want you dead, we haven't had a chance to talk yet." "...Save...Save...Save me..." "I didn't tell you, buddy, get up." Bredenmann was terrified, gasping, trembling, rolling his eyes away from the schadenfreude. "Let's talk about boats, seals, or music on the voyage, and whether or not bees have stings, and also about the papers, cars, car keys that I suspect you made for me. What I saw at your house was a Chef van , I know it's yours. How about it, Bradenman?" "...don't...don't talk about...documents..." He gasped, harshly.Teeth chatter together.

"You'd better talk," said Fry, holding out his thumb. "If you don't, I'll put my key in your pale blue eyes, and you'll have to deal with a dog with a clear eye." Let's go to hell together." He put his thumb in front of Bradenman's eyes, and Bradenman shrank his head helplessly. "You tell me," said Frye, "I'll give you good medicine, and, besides, I'll help you up, and you'll be able to take your medicine, take care, buddy, take your medicine and you'll be all right." Bradenman was trembling with fear, as if he had caught a cold. Through his trembling teeth, he forcibly said a few words, "The document...is in the name of Randall Flagg. It's on the dressing table downstairs. Under the relevant documents."

"Where's the car?" Bradenman thought desperately, when had he ever bought this guy's car?It was so far away that the delirious coma seemed to involve some of his nerves, and the entire memory bank had been destroyed, like a blackened transformer.Not the car, but, the intimidating guy wants to know about it, it's a 1953 Bullet that he's already painted pink. Fry put one hand gently on Bredenman's mouth, and pinched his nostrils tightly with the other hand, Bradenman struggled desperately, and a terrible moan came out of Frye's hands, "Can this help you remember? "

Oddly enough, it worked. "The car..." he said, and panted like a dog, whirling around and standing still.He remembered, "The car is parked...behind Conoco Station...just outside the town. Route 51." "Zhenbei or Zhennan?" "South... South..." "There! I see. Go on." "Cover it with a tarpaulin, don't...don't...Buick. The registration is on the steering wheel bushing and it says...Randall Flagg." He was out of breath, and except for looking at Fry, I can't say any more. "Where are the keys?" "Under the shoemat on the floor..."

Fry sat down on Bradenman's chest, and Bradenman couldn't say a word, he sat there as if he were sitting on a comfortable cushion in a friend's room.Bredenman was overwhelmed. "Thanks," said Richard Fry, smiling smugly, "and good night, Kit." Kit Bredenman couldn't say a word, he could only watch. "Don't think I'm unkind," said the man in black, looking down at him, softly, "we've got to hurry, the carnival starts early, and they have all the horse rides and wheel of fortune, tonight, I'm lucky, Kit, I feel it, I feel really good. So we gotta hurry." It was a mile and a half to Conoco Station, where he arrived at 3:15 in the morning.The wind is getting stronger and stronger, rustling.Walking on the road, he saw the dead bodies of three dogs, and a male corpse in uniform.The stars shone brightly, breaking all the silence in the universe. The tarpaulin of the Gabuick was firmly fixed on the ground with short stakes. The wind blew the canvas and fluttered gently. When Flagg pulled up the stakes, the tarpaulin slowly floated into the night sky like a huge black ghost. , to the east.The question is, where should he go? He stands next to the Buick, a well-preserved 1975 car. (The car is fine outside here, but it is a little damp, a little rusty, and it will be difficult to start), the summer smell and the smell of car oil can only be smelled at night.The whole Buick parked in the wasteland looks like a corpse truck with its parts disassembled.The engine had been jammed, the axles looked like children's practice dumbbells, the tires were whirring, and a piece of the windshield had been shattered.There are many, many more. He thought these things were best on stage. He walked to the back of the Buick and raised his hand to lift the hood. "Hey baby, you don't know how to make them close the windows..." he sang softly, kicking a nearby water tank with his dusty boot, and out came a pile of gems, rubies, emeralds, and pebbles. Pearls as beautiful as stars, diamonds as beautiful as stars.With a sharp bite of his finger, everything disappeared, and the dim starlight flickered towards him.Where is he going? The wind whistled through the shattered side windows of the Buick.Something else rustled behind him.He turned and there was Kit Bredenman, in his funny yellow briefs and a jug hanging from his waist, as if he had died in an avalanche.Bradenman came toward him, over the piles of bones in the Detroit Rolling Iron, a spring-iron blade piercing his foot, but no blood flowed.At the center of Bradenman is a black eye. The man in black bit his finger, and Bradenman disappeared. He giggled, walked back to the front of the Buick, and sat in the driver's seat.Time passed by, and he tried to sit up straight, still giggling.he understands. He started the motor, slammed the accelerator, and the motor boomed and boomed.He puts it in F.The car drove out of the gas station quickly, and the headlights searched for a pair of emeralds, which were the eyes of a cat in the weeds.In the cat's mouth was a little mouse that was dying.As soon as the cat saw the headlights, it opened its eyes wide, dropped the food in its mouth, and ran away with its snow-white teeth showing. Flagel laughed loudly, thinking of nothing but fond memories.The blacktop in Conoco had become a highway, and he turned right and started running south.