Chapter 48 Chapter 47

Once things happen, it's like a wild horse running wild. At around 10:15 on July 30, they had only been on the road for an hour.There were several torrential rains the night before and the road was slippery.The four of them didn't talk much. Yesterday morning, Stu woke up Franny, Harold and Gran to tell them the bad news of Perry's suicide. "He's blaming himself," thought Franny sadly, "but it's not his fault." She would have told him everything, partly because he was to blame for indulging himself, and partly because she loved him, and that was a fact she could no longer deceive herself.She thought she could convince him that Perry's death wasn't his fault...but that would mean revealing her true feelings to him.She was thinking that maybe she could find an opportunity to confess her feelings to him.But if Harold sees it, it will be... all clear... It's just a matter of time.She thought it must be so soon, Harold or not.She could only hide him for so long.When the time comes, he will have to know... Whether he accepts it or not is up to him.She was afraid that Harold would not be able to accept it.There was no guarantee that something terrible would happen.They carried a large number of guns with them.

Franny was still thinking about it. They had turned a corner and saw a large trailer overturned in the middle of the road, just cutting the road in half.Last night's rain had washed the trailer's shell to a glistening finish.What is even more surprising is that there are three travel vans and a large rescue vehicle parked on the side of the road.There were at least a dozen people standing there. Franny was startled and came to a sudden stop.The Honda motorcycle skidded on the wet ground and nearly threw her. The four people stopped the car and stood in a straight line on the road. They were surprised that so many people were still alive.

"Get out of the car for me." One of the big men said.Tan beard, wearing dark sunglasses. Franny's thoughts flashed back to the Maine tax road where a state trooper pulled him over for speeding. "We'll need our driver's license when we get down," thought Franny.But this is no longer a state trooper who catches a speeder and issues a ticket.There are 4 men here, 3 more standing behind the tawny beard.The rest are women.There are at least 8 of them.His face was pale, as if frightened, and he stood in a ball around the station wagon. The man with the tawny beard carried a gun.The men behind him also had guns.

"Get out of the car, damn it," said the light-tan beard, and a man behind him cocked the rifle in his hand, and a muffled bang pierced the misty morning air. Grant and Harold looked confused and nervous. "They're going to sit and wait to die," Frannie panicked the more she thought about it.She is not very clear about her situation, but she knows that the balance of power between the two sides is very unbalanced. "4 men, 8 women," she mused in her head, then repeated loudly like an alarm: "4 men! 8 women!" Stu called out "Harold" quietly.He signaled Harold with his eyes that it was time to move. "Stu, don't..." Before he finished speaking, everything started.

Stu had a rifle slung across his back.He shook his shoulders, and the gun strap slipped from his arm, and the gun was in his hand. The tawny beard yelled, "Don't move!" Then he yelled, "Garvey! Fergie! Ronnie! Get rid of them! Get that woman!" Harold started grabbing for his gun, forgetting at first that it was still in its holster. Glenn Bateman was still sitting behind Harold, stupefied. "Harold!" Stu called again. Franny started to get her own rifle.She felt that the air around her suddenly froze, as suffocating as if wrapped in sticky honey, and felt that she could no longer break free.At this time, she realized that these people might be buried here.

A girl yelled, "Do it!" Franny was about to continue fighting with her rifle when she heard the cry and shifted her gaze to the girl.In fact, she is not a girl anymore, at least 25 years old.His pale blond hair was not fitting at all, and under a battered helmet, it looked like a hedge had just been pruned. The women didn't all move; some were freaking out.Only the blonde girl and 3 other women acted. All this happens in just 7 seconds. The man with the tawny beard kept pointing the gun at Stu.He suddenly heard the young blond girl call "hands on", his gun barrel trembled, and slowly turned towards her, like a "magic wand" detecting water sources smelling water.The bullet came out of the chamber immediately, making a dull sound like a steel bar piercing cardboard.Stu jumped off the motorcycle.

Stu put his elbows on the ground and fired, (elbows on the ground to keep bullets from hitting the road, the Honda on one of his legs).The tawny beard was beaten off stage like a vaudeville singer.His faded checkered shirt billowed in the wind.The automatic pistol in his hand fired towards the sky indiscriminately, and the sound like steel bars piercing cardboard rang four times in a row.Finally, he fell on his back to the ground. Two of the three men standing behind the light-tan beards flung their triggers around when they heard the blond girl's cry.One of them was holding an old-fashioned 12-gauge Remington double-barreled shotgun.The butt was not supporting anything—he was holding it from the right side, hanging over his right hip bone—and the sound of the shot was like a thunderbolt in the cabin, and the recoil sent the gun back from his hand, It fell to the ground with a clatter.One woman was hit in the face, bloody at first, and within moments Franny could hear her blood dripping down the pavement like rain.She now seems to be wearing a "blood mask", through which one uninjured eye looks blankly.Then, she fell forward on the road.Behind him the Country Square station wagon was honeycombed by shot.The car windows are covered with white cracks, like waterfalls.

The second man turned to the blond, and the two wrestled.One of the other three girls crawled to reach the dropped shotgun. A third man starts shooting Franny.Frannie was straddling the motorcycle, holding the rifle in both hands, staring blankly at him.His skin was olive, like an Italian.She felt the bullet buzz past her left temple. Harold finally unlocked a gun.He raised his gun and fired at the olive-skinned man.The distance between two people is about 15 steps.Harold missed him.The bullet happened to pass through the left side of the olive-skinned man's head, leaving a bullet hole in the shell of the pink car trailer.The olive-skinned man glared at Harold and said, "I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch!"

"No, don't do that!" Harold yelled.He lowered his gun and raised his hands. The olive-skinned man shot Harold three times.All guns are lost.Only the third shot was the closest and most intimidating; the bullet screeched as it grazed the exhaust pipe of Harold's Yamaha.The car overturned, throwing Harold and Gran off the ground. Now the time has passed 20 seconds.At this moment, Harold and Stu were lying flat on the ground.Gran sat cross-legged in the road, still looking around, as if he didn't know where he was or what was going on.In desperation, Franny tried to shoot the olive-skinned man, trying to finish him off before he shot Harold or Stu, but her gun didn't go off, and she couldn't even pull the bolt. , she forgot to push the safety to the launch position.The blond woman was still wrestling with the second man, and the woman who had just reached for the gun was fighting to the death with the third man for the dropped shotgun.

Cursing in perfect Italian, the olive-skinned man took aim at Harold again when Stu fired, and the olive-skinned man's forehead slumped and fell like a sack of potatoes. Now, another woman has joined the fight for the gun.The man who dropped the gun tried to knock her aside.But she reached between his crotch, grabbed the crotch of his jeans, and squeezed hard.Franny saw three muscles in her back protruding, extending to her forearms and elbows.The man screamed and immediately lost interest in the gun.He clutched his crotch, bowed his body, and stumbled away. Harold crawled over to where the gun fell and grabbed it.Shoot at the man clutching his crotch.He fired three shots in a row and missed.

"It's like Bonnie and Clyde," thought Franny. "My God, there's blood everywhere!" The blond, disheveled girl was struggling for the rifle dropped by the second man, looking powerless.Suddenly he let go of the gun and kicked her, originally in the stomach, but in fact his boot only hit her leg.She backed away quickly, spinning her arms to balance her body, and finally fell to the ground with her buttocks. "He's going to shoot," Frannie thought, but the second man, circling her like a drunken soldier, suddenly made a backwards motion and began to huddle in the "village square." The three women on the side of the station wagon shot. "Yo, yo, yo! Sassy woman!" cried the "gentleman." "Yo, yo, yo! Slut!" One of them fell to the ground, on the pavement between the station wagon and the trailer, like a stabbed fish.The other two women ran away.Stu shoots at the man who shoots, but misses.A second man shot a running woman and also missed.The woman fell to the ground with her arms outstretched.The other ran, turned left, and ducked behind the trailer. The man who lost the gun but failed to get it back was still staggering around with his hands on his crotch.A woman pointed a shotgun at him and pulled the double triggers, her eyes closed and her mouth cocked, waiting for the bang.The expected bang was in vain.The gun was out of bullets.She held the gun upside down, holding the barrel in her hand, and swung the butt high up and smashed it down.It missed the head, only hit the part where the neck connects to the right shoulder.The man shrank back, trying to slip away.The woman with the gun, wearing a blue sweatshirt with "Kent State University" emblazoned on it and ripped jeans, followed him, hitting him with the butt of the gun as she walked.The man was still crawling, his body was covered with blood, and the woman in the "Kent State University" sweatshirt was still relentlessly hitting him with the butt of the gun. "Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, you bitches!" yelled the second man, aiming at a stunned middle-aged woman who was muttering to herself.The muzzle was only three feet from her; so close that you could almost block the hole with a finger.He missed.Pulled the bolt again, but unfortunately ran out of bullets. Harold now imitated the policeman in the movie and held the gun in both hands.One pull of the trigger shattered the second man's elbow.The man threw away the gun in his hand, jumped up and down, and let out a rapid and vague cry.To Franny it sounded a little like Roger Rabbit saying "please please please!" "I've hit him!" Harold exclaimed happily. "I hit him! By God, I hit him!" Franny finally remembered that her rifle had a safety catch.As she pushed the safety catch off, Stu fired again.The second man fell to the ground, this time clutching his stomach. "My God, my God," Gran murmured, and buried his face in his hands, sobbing softly. Harold fired another shot, and the second man shuddered and howled no more. The woman in the "Kent State University" sweatshirt swung the butt off again, and this time it landed firmly on the crawling man's head.The sound is like Jim Rice hitting a solid fastball with a high level of power.The walnut stock of the shotgun was falling apart, and so was the man's head. For a moment, everything fell silent.Only the chirping of birds: chirp... chirp... chirp... Astride the third man's body, the woman in the sweatshirt suddenly let out a long howl like a primitive man celebrating victory, which was etched into Frannie Goldsmith's memory. The blonde woman was Diana Jurgens from Xenia, Ohio.That's Susan in the "Kent State University" sweatshirt.The third woman, the crotch of the man clutching the shotgun, was Patty Kroger, and the other two were no longer young.The oldest one, Diana said was Shirley Hammett.The other one, whose name she can't name, looks to be in her mid-thirties; two days ago, she had been driven out of her mind by some stimulus, and was wandering around Archibald town by Al, Garvey, and Fergie. and Ronnie captured. The nine men got off the highway and settled in a farmhouse somewhere west of Columbia, now across the Indiana border.Everyone was in disarray, and for the next few days, Frannie thought, they descended from the trailer on the toll road and walked across a field to the farmhouse, resembling a field trip sponsored by a mental institution stalking a subject. .After the heavy rain, the leg-deep grass was wet and wet their pants quickly.The pink and white butterflies, with their wings stained with water droplets, became heavier and heavier. They flapped their wings tiredly and rushed towards them, turned around a few times, and then flew away in a circle.The white clouds are like soft tulle, covering the sun that wants to break through the clouds, and the faint light diffuses on the thin clouds between the sky.Despite the puffy clouds blocking the sun, the weather was still hot and humid and suffocating.The air was mingled with the feathers of crows and their hideous cawing. "There are more crows than people," Franny thought dizzily.Will they peck us all out of the earth if we don't pay attention?Blackbird's revenge.Are crows carnivores?Franny was terrified that they really were. These absurd thoughts are vague in her mind, but they are very stubborn, like the sun hiding behind the clouds, and the scene of the gun battle flashed in her mind over and over again: a woman's face was blown open by a shotgun the flowers; Stu's fall; the moment of extreme panic when she thought Stu was dead.The man who yelled "Yo, yo, yo, you bitches!" sounded like Roger Rabbit after being shot by Harold; cardboard.Susan Stern straddled the opponent's corpse and let out a primitive cry of victory, while the dead man's brains, steaming, gurgled out of the smashed skull. Gran was walking side by side with her, his stern and thin face looked restless at this moment, strands of gray long hair fluttered like butterflies in the wind, he held Franny's hand, Consciously and lightly clap continuously. "You must not be affected by this," he said, "this terrible thing . The backbone of the law is a great antidote to lawlessness. You should take...something like this...for granted. It's just an isolated thing. I think so. I think this Facts are self-evident, an ethical and moral question of the nature of society, one might say. Ha! Ha!" There was a bit of a whimper in his laugh.She answered "Yes, Gran," to every word he said, but he didn't seem to hear.Butterflies sometimes slam on them and then slam away again.Almost at the farmhouse.Although the battle just now lasted less than a minute, she thought that this kind of battle scene would probably remain deep in her memory forever.Gran kept clapping her hands.She wanted him to stop, but she was afraid that if she did, he would cry.She can bear the slapping.Because she believed she could not bear to see Glenn Bateman cry. Harold walked on one side of Stu, and the blond woman named Diana Jurgens on the other.Susan Stern and Patty Kroger walked with the unnamed insane woman.Shirley Hammett, the woman who died at a short distance from the man who yelled like Roger Rabbit, walked a little farther to the left, muttering to herself as she pounced. The occasional butterfly.The group walked slowly, and Shirley Hammett walked even slower.Messy gray hair fluttered around his face, and his eyes stared blankly at the world, like a frightened mouse peering timidly out of a makeshift den. Harold looked at Stu uneasily. "We got them all, didn't we, Stu? We got them all. Crushed their asses." "I think so, Harold." "Dude, we have to," Harold said more seriously, as if Stu was hinting that things might go the other way. "Either they die, or we die!" "They might blow your brains," Diana said quietly. "I was with two other guys before and this group of them shot at us out of the blue. They shot Richie and Damon from the ambush. They hit them and they shot them in the head again. .You must kill them first, or you will be the ones who die now." "Otherwise we are the ones who are going to die now!" Harold said loudly to Stu. "That's right," said Stu. "Don't bother with her, Harold." "Really! Makes a cold sweat!" said Harold.He fumbled from his pocket for a bar of Payday chocolate and dropped it on the floor as he peeled off the wrapper.He cursed viciously, grabbed it, and held it with both hands, like holding a lollipop. They have reached the farmhouse.Harold subconsciously kept touching his body while eating the chocolate to make sure he wasn't hurt.He felt so nauseous that he didn't dare look down at his crotch.He's 100 percent convinced he wet his pants shortly after the "lively festivities" climax behind the trailer. They combined breakfast and lunch, and during the meal Diana and Susan simply ate a little and talked for the most part.Patty Kroger, the 17-year-old beauty, also only ate a few bites.An unknown woman huddled in the far corner of the kitchen.Shirley Hammett sat at the kitchen table, munching on a graham cracker and talking to herself. Diana left Xenia accompanied by Rich and Damon.Besides the three of them, how many people in Xenia were alive after the flu?She has only seen three: an elderly man, a woman and a little girl.Diana and her friends invited them to leave together, but the old man waved them off, saying something like "there is trouble in the desert". By July 8, Diana, Rich and Damon began to be plagued by nightmares.The dream is creepy.Rich has come to believe that the devil in his dreams really exists and lives in California.Moreover, he thought that this "devil", if it was a man, must be the trouble those three people encountered in the desert.Diana and Damon begin to worry about Rich's health.Rich called the dream demon a "recidivist" and said he was gathering an "army of recidivists."It also said that this army would soon sweep across the west, conquering every survivor, from the United States to all over the world.Diana and Damon privately discussed whether to leave Rich one night quietly, and came to believe that the reason they were having such a dream was also affected by Rich's powerful hallucinations. When they arrived in Williamstown, they turned a curve on the highway and found a large dump truck lying in the middle of the road.A touring van and a rescue vehicle were parked nearby. "I guess it must have been another crash," Diana said, crushing the graham crackers nervously with her fingers. They got off the motorcycle and were about to push it around the dump truck when four "recidivists," as Rich called it, came out of the ditch.After killing Rich and Damon, capture Diana.She was the fourth to be thrown into what they called "the zoo" or "the boudoir."The muttering Shirley Hammett was one of them, she was fine at the time, even though she was raped, sodomized and forced to blowjob those four guys over and over again. "Once," Diana said, "a guy took her into the bushes and wiped her ass with barbed wire, and she bled rectally for three days." "Jesus Christ," Stu said. "who's that person?" Susan Stern said: "It's the one with the shotgun, and then I smashed his head off. I wish he was here now, lying on the floor, so I could do it again." As for the man with the tawny beard and sunglasses, all they knew was that he was a doctor.He and Fergie had been members of a task force sent to Akron during the flu outbreak.Their job is to "coordinate with the media," which is the military's euphemism for "press suppression."Once that job was done, they moved on to "civilian control," which is again the military's euphemism for shooting at fleeing "trophies" or hanging those who didn't get away in time.By June 27, doctors told them they had lost contact with the chain of command.Many were too ill to go on patrol anymore, and then, it didn't matter, because the residents of Akron were too weak to read or write the news, let alone rob banks and jewelry stores. By June 30th, the task force was dead in name only—some of its members were dead, some were dying, and the rest were scattered.The Doctor and Fergie became two stragglers, and they had, in fact, "started a new life" ever since, working as "zoo-keepers."Garvey joined them on July 1st, Ronnie on July 3rd.At that point, their special small clubs are closed to new members. "It won't be long before you outnumber them," said Gran. Shirley Hammett unexpectedly picked up the conversation. "Take a pill," she said, her eyes like a caught mouse peering at them through her fringes of gray bangs. "Take one in the morning and one in the evening, when you wake up and when you sleep." Her voice faded, then became almost inaudible.Started mumbling again. Susan Stern continued along the thread of the story.She and Rachel Camti, the one who died, were captured outside Columbia on July 17.At the time, the group was parading in a convoy with two touring vans and a rescue vehicle.Rescue vehicles can move broken cars out of the way at any time, and can also set up roadblocks on highways.The doctor has a large pocket pinned to his waist, which contains large doses of sleeping pills for bedtime, tranquilizers for travel, and red pills for rest. "Wake up in the morning, get raped two or three times, and then wait for the doctor to come up with the pills," Susan said lightly. "I mean the daytime pill. So on the third day, my..., of course, you know, my vagina is so worn out that any normal intercourse is painful. I hope it's Ronnie , all he wants is to blow the trumpet. But once you take the pills, you'll be quiet. Either sleepy or quiet. Surrounded by these blue pills, you don't seem to care about anything. Just want to sit there , put your hands on the skirt pleats between your knees, and watch the scene dangle in front of you, or sit with your hands on the skirt pleats between your knees, and watch them use the rescue vehicle to remove something from the road. Move away. One day, Garvey got mad because there was a girl, no more than 12 years old, and she couldn't do... well, I hate to tell you guys. It sucks anyway. Garvey threw her I don't even feel it. I'm just...quiet. After a while, you almost don't think about running away anymore. You think about those blue pills, which are much more attractive than running away. gone." Diana and Patty Kroger kept nodding. Patty said they seemed to limit the number of people to eight. On July 22nd, they killed the man who was with her (the 50th man they killed), and after they got her back, they put an old woman who had been confined in the "zoo" for more than a week. executed.After capturing the unknown man near the town of Archibald, he killed a 16-year-old squinting girl. "Doctors used to joke about it," Patty said. "He said, 'I don't walk under ladders, I don't step in black cat footprints, I don't swim with 13 people.'" They saw Stu and the others for the first time on the 29th. The "zoo" was set up in a camping area not far from the state border, and the four of Stu and the others happened to pass by there. "Garvey's interested in you," Susan said, nodding to Franny.Franny shuddered. Diana moved closer to them, speaking softly. "And they've figured out which one you're going to replace." She shook her head slightly, barely noticeably, at Shirley Hammett, who was still mumbling to herself as she chewed her biscuit. "Poor woman," said Franny. "Diana decided that you guys might be our best chance," Patty said, "maybe our last chance. Because you've got three armed men over there - both she and Helen Roger saw .Three men in full armor. And the doctor resorted to that little overconfident trick of overturning the station wagon on the road. The doctor pretended to be some kind of government official, so that everyone he met The men in a crowd — when there are men — will just surrender and get shot. It’s a tactic that’s always been tried and tested.” "Diana told us to keep the medicine in our hands that morning," Susan went on. "They never paid much attention to whether we actually ate, and we knew they had been busy dragging the wagon out on the road and overturning it that morning. We didn't tell anyone. The only people who knew were Diana, Pat Dee and Helen Roger... one of them was shot in the back by Ronnie in there, and me, of course. Helen said, 'If they catch us trying to spit the medicine into our hands, they'll kill us.' And Diana said they were going to kill us anyway, sooner or later, maybe sooner if we were lucky, and of course we knew it was true. So we did it." "I kept the medicine in my mouth for a long time," Patty said, "and spit it out when it was about to melt." She looked at Diana. "I think Helen may have had to swallow it. I think That's why she's moving so slowly." Diana nodded.She looked at Stu with undisguised fiery eyes, which made Franny uncomfortable. "Big man, if you didn't think something was wrong, their plan would have succeeded." "Not woken up early enough, it looks like," Stu said. "Next time, I'll wake up sooner." He stood up, went to the window, and looked out. "You know, I'm also amazed," he said, "how sensible we were." Franny didn't care so much about Diana's burning eyes on him. "If nothing else, she's much prettier than me," thought Franny. "Also, I wonder if she's pregnant." "It's a wide-awake world, big man," Diana said. "Wake up or die." Stu turned and looked at her for the first time, and Franny felt a twinge of jealousy. "I've waited too long," she thought, "God, I've been wanting this, I've waited too long." She catches a glimpse of Harold chuckling secretly, one hand over his mouth.It seemed like a relieved laugh.She suddenly thought she'd better stand up and walk casually past Harold, drawing his eyes to her nails. "Never, Harold!" she wanted to cry. "never!" "never?" [Excerpt from the diary of Frannie Goldsmith] July 19, 1990 Ah, God.The worst has happened.In the book it ends at the beginning, and some things at least turn around, but in real life, it seems to be endless, like a soap opera, which never ends.Maybe I should clear things up and take a chance, but I'm worried that something will happen between the two of them, and...  You can't end a sentence with "and" because I'm afraid to write what might happen after this conjunction. Dear diary, I will tell you everything, even though it would be very unpleasant to write it down.I don't even want to think about it. Gran and Stu sneak into the city (probably Girard, Ohio tonight) and scavenge around the dump for something to eat, hoping for concentrates and frozen vegetables or something.It didn't take much for them to bring back some food, and the concentrated food tasted pretty good, but to me, the frozen food all tasted the same - like dried chicken shit.Have you ever compared dry chicken shit?Nothing, some things can only be written in a diary, ha-ha. They asked me and Harold if they wanted to go, even if they couldn't do anything without me, I didn't want to go, a day of motorcycle riding was enough, and Harold said no, he said he would Get some water to boil.With that said, it seems that a plan is already being made.Sorry to make him so scheming, but that's the truth, and so is he. [Note: Those of us who are surprisingly sick of drinking boiled water tastes bland and totally oxygen free, yet Mark and Glen say the factories and whatnot haven't been shut down long enough and the streams and rivers haven't cleaned themselves up, esp In a factory in the Northeast (the Rust Belt as they call it) so we don't mind cooking it all.All of us had been hoping to find a good deal of bottled mineral water sooner or later, and we had found it—so did Harold—but most of it had inexplicably disappeared.Stu believes that most people must have thought that they got the disease from drinking tap water, and drank a lot of mineral water before the onset of the disease. ] Mark and Perry went somewhere, said to find strawberries to add to our menu, or maybe something else--they kept a secret about it, except that they did a good job, I think--so I'll start Gathering wood to make a fire, and then holding a firewood to find Harold's water jug... Soon, he came back with a water jug ​​(obviously, he had been soaking in the stream for a long time and took a bath , and washed his head.) He hung the pitcher on something over the fire, and came over and sat down beside me. We were sitting on a log, chatting, and he suddenly put his arms around me and tried to kiss me.I said try, but he's actually going on now, I'm absolutely amazed.Then I broke away from him—looking back, it was a farce.I'm still annoyed now - falling backwards off the log.This time not only the back of the coat was wrinkled, but a large piece of skin was scraped.I let out a scream.Going on and on about the past, so often, like when Jess and I were out walking on the embankment, I always bit my lip... too often, like this, just trying to feel better Son. Harold immediately got down on one knee beside me and asked me if I was all right, blushing to the roots.Harold tries to be so icy and artificial at times—he seems to me like a young writer with a burnt-out, passion-weary quest for the West Coast's unique "dull cafés" where he can spend a All day long, sipping cheap white wine, which is cheap but well packaged, and talking about Sartre, like a teenager, immersed in immature fantasies.Or maybe I think so.Most of the early Saturday morning fantasies of this kind of person are: Tyrone Power of Captain Castile, Humphrey Bogart in the movie "Dark Passage".That side of him always seemed to come out when he was under pressure, maybe because he kept it under control like a child, I don't know.Anyway, when he degenerates into boggy, he just reminds me of the guy who played boggy in Woody Allen's "One More Time, Sam." So when he knelt down beside me and asked me "you're okay baby" I started giggling.Closer to home!It's not just because the circumstances were ridiculous, you know.If that's all, I can still hold back.No, there are too many reasons to make me hysterical.Nightmares, worrying about the child, how to deal with my feelings for Stu, day after day of travel, tension, pain, loss of parents, everything turned around... At first it was just giggling to express this emotion, and later就演变为歇斯底里的狂笑，一发不可收拾。 “什么事这么可笑？”哈罗德问，慢慢地站了起来。我猜想是用那种可怕的正义之声说的，但在那时，我已不再想哈罗德了，脑子里闪现出唐老鸭的这种疯狂模样。唐老鸭一摇一摆地穿过西方文明的废墟，生气地嘎嘎直叫：“什么事这么可笑，啊？什么事这么可笑？什么事他妈的这么可笑？我将脸埋在手中，笑了哭，哭了又笑，直到哈罗德以为我完全崩溃了。 过了一会，我强忍住不哭了。我擦干眼泪，想让哈罗德看看我的脸是不是擦得很花。但我没有这样做，因为我害怕他会把此当成一种过份亲昵的行为。活着、自由，法兰妮的追求，哦－嗬，没那么可笑。 “法兰妮”，哈罗德说，“我觉得这难以启齿。” “那你最好还是别说了。”我说。 “我身不由己，”他回答，我开始明白他不愿让我回答不，除非对他明说。“法兰妮，”他说，“我爱你。” 我想，许久已来我就明白他对我的感情就是这样赤裸裸，如果他只是想同我睡觉，那就简单了。爱情比作爱更危险，而我也左右为难。怎么对哈罗德说“不”？我想只有一个办法，那就是管他是谁，我都要说。 “哈罗德，我不爱你。”这就是我的回答。 他的脸气炸了。“是他，对不对？”他说着，脸扭曲得非常难看。“是斯图·雷德曼，对不对？” “我不知道，”我说。现在，我的脾气也上来了，我一直都不能控制它——我想是我妈妈遗传给我的。我以女人特有的方式把要向哈罗德发的脾气压下去，但我仍能感觉到它紧紧地绷住了弦。 “我知道。”他的声音变得尖锐还有点儿自顾自怜的味道。“好吧，我知道了。我们遇到他的那天，我就知道。我不想让他和我们一起走，因为那时我就知道。而且他说……” "what did he say?" “他说他不想要你！你只能是我的！” “就像给了你一双新鞋，对吧，哈罗德？” 他没有回答，可能意识到了自己走得太远了。我费了点劲儿回忆那一天：哈罗德见到斯图的瞬间反应，就像一只先来的狗，当一只新的、一只陌生的狗来到它窝里时的反应一样。侵入了它的领地。我仿佛可以看到哈罗德颈背上的狗毛都竖起来了。我明白斯图所说的话，是为了将我们从狗堆儿里拿出，重新放回人堆儿里。这难道不是其真实意图所在吗？我们目前正处于这种纠缠不清的争斗中吗？如果不是这样，我们为什么苦苦挣扎又要维护面子呢？ “我不属于任何人，哈罗德。”我说。 他嘴里叽叽咕咕了几句。 "what?" “我说，你应该纠正一下你的看法了。” 我脑中反应出一种尖锐的反驳方式，但我没说出来。哈罗德的眼睛望着远方，面无表情。他说：“我以前见过那家伙。你最好相信这一点，法兰妮。他是橄榄球队的四分卫，却是那种坐在教室里用唾沫沾湿纸团到处乱扔的人，还向人群中飞纸鸟，因为他知道老师至少能给他个C的成绩，所以他可以一向这样玩玩闹闹。这种人只和最漂亮的啦啦队长约会。当英文教师让你朗读你的全班最棒的作文时，这种人就放屁。” “是的，我了解像他这样的混蛋。祝你好运，法兰妮。” 说完，他就走了。这并不意味着他打算壮烈而轻蔑地退场，对此我相当有把握。这更像是他曾做过某种神秘的梦，是我将它击碎——梦中的一切已物是人非，而现实却是不曾真的拥有什么。他让我感到恐惧，真的，因为当他离开时并没有装作无所谓的冷言冷语愤世疾俗，而是真的愤世疾俗，不是无所谓的，而是像刀刃一样锐利伤人。他受到了打击。啊，哈罗德永远不会明白，他的脑袋瓜已经开始转了一点弯儿，他终于明白无论他作什么，这个世界还将原地不动。他将挫折藏于心间，那情形尤如海盗聚积财宝…… Ok.现在大家回来了，吃过晚饭，过足烟瘾，拿出了佛罗那（我放到口袋里，没让它在胃里溶解），大家安顿下来。哈罗德和我刚刚经历了痛苦的交锋，我的感觉是什么事都没有真正解决，只是他正在观察斯图和我，看看接下来会发生什么事。此举令我作呕，一股无名之火促使我将这一切写了下来。他有什么权利监视我们？他有什么权利把我们的悲惨处境弄得更加复杂？ 备注：对不起，日记。这绝对是我当时的心情。我什么事都想不起来了。 当法兰妮走近斯图的时候，他正坐在一块石头上抽烟。他用鞋后跟在地上踩出一个小圆坑，当作烟灰碟。他面朝西方，那里的太阳就要下山了。云朵绽裂，好让那一轮红日露出个头儿来。遇见那四个女人，并让她们加入进来不过是昨天的事，但似乎已经很久远了。他们没费多少劲从沟里拖出一辆旅行大轿车，载上他们的摩托车，结成一支旅行队，缓缓沿着收费路向西而行。 香烟的味道让她想起了父亲和父亲的烟斗。跟回忆一起涌上来的是忧伤，化作了缕缕乡愁。爸爸，没有你的日子我已经习惯了。我想你不会介意的。 斯图环顾四周时看到了她。“法兰妮，”他由衷高兴地说，“你好吗？” 她耸了耸肩，“还行。” “想一起坐在石头上看日落吗？” 她坐到了斯图身边，心跳顿时加快了。说到底，还有别的理由让她来到这儿么？她知道他离开营地的路径，也知道哈罗德和格兰还有其他两个姑娘一道前往布赖顿市，要找一架民用电台（这次是格兰的主意，而非哈罗德的）。帕蒂·克罗格回到了营地，正在照料那两个患战斗疲劳症的病人。雪莉·哈米特有从惊吓中清醒过来的迹象，但今天一早，她又把大家吵醒了，困为她在梦中发出了尖叫，两只手在空中乱舞，做出避开打击的样子。另一个女人，就是无名无姓的那个好像正在朝另一个方向发展。她坐着。即使饱了还要吃。她会装着大小便的样子。也不回答别人的问题。她只有在睡着的时候才真正活跃起来。即使服用了很大剂量的佛罗那，也经常呻吟，有时还尖叫。法兰妮想，自己知道这个可怜的女人正梦到了什么。 “像是还有很长的路要走，是不是？”她说。 他没有马上回答，过了一会儿，才说：“比我们想象的要远。那位老妇人已不在内布拉斯加州了。” “我知道……”她刚起了个头，又把话咽了回去。 他看着她，微微一笑。“小姐，你一直都没有吃药。” “我的秘密保不住了。”她说着，不太自然地笑了笑。 “不光我们这样，”斯图说，“下午，和戴安娜聊天的时候（一听到他叫她的名字那么亲密，就勾起了她内心的嫉妒与恐惧之情），她说她和苏珊也都不愿意吃。” 法兰妮点了点头。“为什么停下来了？他们没给你吃药吗……在那地方？” 他在土制烟灰碟里敲了敲烟灰。“晚上只是柔和的镇静剂。他们用不着迷倒我。他们看得很牢。我是三天前开始不吃药的，因为我觉得……不需要了。”他思忖片刻，又接着说了下去。“格兰和哈罗德要去找架民用电台，真是个好主意。民用电台有什么用呢？是为了让你保持联系。我一个叫托尼·莱姆斯特的战友回到了阿内特，他的侦察机里有一架电台。了不起的小玩意儿。你可以用它和别人通话，如果你遇上麻烦，还能呼救。这些梦想，好像在你的脑袋里已经装了一架电台，只是不能发报，只能接收。” “也许我们正在发报。”法兰妮平静地说。 他看着她，神色惊愕。 他们一言不发地坐了片刻。太阳露出头来，像是要赶着在沉没到地平线之前道一声再见。法兰妮能够理解，为什么原始人那么崇拜太阳。因为日复一日，整个国家更加空空荡荡，巨大的沉寂使她的脑海中映出的是太阳——月亮——也是这样的庞然大物，开始变得好像更庞大、更重要。也更加人格化。 “不管怎样，我没再吃药，”斯图说，“昨晚，我又梦到了那个黑衣人。情况糟透了。他正在沙漠边缘的某个地方站住了脚。我想是在拉斯维加斯。法兰妮……我想他正在将人们钉在十字架上。是那些他觉得碍手碍脚的人。” “他在干什么？” “那就是我所梦到的。沿着15号公路布满了一排排用车库横梁和电线杆搭成的十字架。人们正悬在上面。” “不过是个梦。”她故作轻松地说。 “也许吧。”他吸了口烟，望着西方血染的云霞。“但另外两个晚上，也就是我们忙于应付那几个劫持妇女的疯子之前的晚上，我梦见了她——那个我们称之为阿巴盖尔妈妈的女人。她正坐在运货卡车的驾驶室里，车子停在76号高速公路边上。我站在地上，一只胳膊拄在车窗上，正在跟她说话，自然地就像我正在和你说话一样。她说，'斯图尔特，你还可以带着他们走得快点儿；像我这样的老太婆都做得来，你这个得克萨斯大块头更没问题了。'”斯图笑了笑，扔掉烟头，用鞋后跟碾了一下。想到前途渺茫，就像不知道自己在做什么一样，他伸出一支胳膊揽住了法兰妮的肩。 “他们要去克罗拉多州。”她说。 “噢，是的，我想是的。” “那……那么是戴安娜还是苏珊也梦到过她？” “她们全都梦见过。昨天晚上，苏珊梦到了十字架。和我梦见的一模一样。” “现在，已经有许多人跟着那个老太太了。” Stu nodded. “有20人，或许更多。你知道，我们每天都要转移一批人。他们就蹲在那儿，等着我们经过。但我想，他们都害怕我们，而她……于是他们就会投奔她。他们迟早会来的。” “或者去投靠另一个。”法兰妮说。 Stu nodded. “是的，或是投靠他。法兰妮你为什么不再吃佛罗那了呢？” 她颤抖着哀叹了一声，思忖着是否应该告诉他。她想告诉他真相，又怕看到他的反应。 “女人要做的事没数儿。”她最后说道。 “是的，”他随声附和着，“但也许总有办法摸透她们在想些什么。” “什么……”她刚一开口，他就用一个热吻堵上了她的嘴。 他们并排躺在草坪上，沐浴着最后一抹晚霞。当火红和冷紫这两种暮色交织时，火红渐渐淡褪，冷紫愈来愈浓，现在，法兰妮可以看到繁星透过最后一抹晚霞眨着眼睛。明天是个旅行的好天气。运气好的话，他们可能会走上那条横穿印第安那州的大道。 斯图懒懒地拍打着胸口上盘旋的蚊子。他的衬衫挂在不远的一株小树上。法兰妮还穿着衬衫，只是钮扣解开了。乳房胀顶着衣服，她想：“我开始发胖了，现在只是那么一点，但已经是明显的了……至少我觉得是。” “我一直想得到你，”斯图说这话的时候没有看着她。“我想你知道。” “我不想跟哈罗德惹麻烦，”她说，“还有别的事……” “哈罗德有他自己的路，”斯图说，“如果能坚强起来，他倒是具备了成为出色男人的内在潜质。你爱他，是不是？” “这个字眼不确切。英文中没有一个词可以形容我对哈罗德的感觉。” “你对我的感觉如何？” 她望着他，发现自己不能说出她爱他，尽管她想说，却不能马上说出口。 “不，”他说，似乎她已经反驳了他，“我只是希望把事情搞清楚。我猜想你同样不想让哈罗德知道你对他的感觉。对不对？” “是的。”她感激地回答道。 “这是一样的。如果我们守口如瓶，这事就可能不了了之。我看到过他盯着帕蒂的样子。他俩年纪相当。” "I have no idea……" “你感觉欠他的情，是不是？” “我想是。奥甘奎特就剩下了我们两个人，而且……” “那是运气，没有别的，法兰妮。你不要让一个人将你牢牢地拴在纯属运气的什么事上。” "I think so." “我猜你爱我，”他说。“我从不轻易说这话。” “我也想我爱你，但还有别的事……” “那个我知道。” “你刚问我为什么不吃药。”她扯了扯衣服，不敢看他。她感到嘴唇异常干涩。“我想可能对孩子不好，”她小声说。 “对……”他不说了。然后他紧紧地抓住她，让她脸对着他。“你怀孕了？” She nodded. “你没有告诉任何人？” "No." “哈罗德。哈罗德知道吗？” “除了你没别人。” “真该死，”他说。 他全神贯注地端详着她的面孔，把她吓坏了。她想过会有两种结局：他可能会即刻弃她而去（如果他发现她怀着别人的孩子，就会像杰西一样毫不迟疑地离开）或者会紧紧地抱住她，告诉她别担心，他会应付一切。她从未料想会出现这样令人胆战心惊的近距离凝视，她不觉回忆起那晚她在花园里将这一切告诉她父亲时的情景。她真希望作爱前就告诉斯图她怀孕的事儿。也许那样他们根本什么都不会做，至少他不会感到自己莫名其妙地被欺骗了，而她……老话儿怎么说的？乱搞的女人。他是不是也正在这么想？她什么都不能说。 “斯图？”她颤颤惊惊地说。 “你没有告诉任何人。”他又重复了一遍。 “我不知道该怎么办。”现在，她的眼泪就要夺眶而出了。 “你什么时候有的？” “1月份，”她说着，眼泪流了下来。 他抱着她，让她知道一切都好，不用再说什么了。他没有说让她不要担心，他会应付一切之类的话，只是又跟她作了一次爱，她觉得自己从没有这么快乐过。 他们两个都没有注意到哈罗德，他像影子一样无声无息，仿佛就是那黑衣人，他站在灌木丛中，看着他们。他们谁都不知道，当法兰妮达到高潮，快乐地呻吟着的时候，他的眼睛向下斜着，眯成了一条缝。 他们完事的时候，天已经黑透了。 哈罗德神不知鬼不觉地走了。 [Excerpt from the diary of Frannie Goldsmith] 1990年8月1日 昨晚没记一个字，太兴奋，太幸福了。斯图和我都是。 他也认为我最好尽可能长时间地保守我的秘密，希望一直到我们安下家来。希望是去科罗拉多州，那儿很适合我。今晚我感觉就是到月亮山上去安家也不错。我听起来像个昏头昏脑的女学生？好……如果一个女人在她的日记里都不能像个女学生，那她还能在哪儿像呢？ 除了保守秘密的事，我还必须提到另外一件事。我的“本能”使我不得不这样做。真有这样的事吗？I think so.也许是激素的原因。几个星期以来，我再也没有自私心理，但很难区分这是怀孕引起的变化还是突然降临这个世界的大灾难引起的变化。但总有某种嫉妒的感情（“嫉妒”真不是一个确切的字眼儿，但却是今晚我能想到最贴切的词），这种感情使你向这个小团体的核心更近了一小步，并且必须维持你在那儿的地位。这就是为什么服用佛罗那比做噩梦似乎更冒险，尽管理智使我相信，佛罗那压根儿伤及不到我的孩子。而且我猜想嫉妒之情也是我对斯图·雷德曼爱的一部分。我感觉我正在恋爱，如同吃饭一样，是为了两个人。 我需要睡眠，不管会做什么样的梦。我们始终都没能像希望的那样开车横穿印第安那——在埃尔克哈特市的高速公路入口处我们遇上了一次可怕的交通堵塞，我们的速度慢了下来。大部分车辆是军车。那儿有士兵死了。格兰、苏珊、戴安娜和斯图带上了他们能够找到的尽可能多的武器——24支来福枪、一些手雷，还有——是的，伙计们，这是真的——一只火箭发射器。现在我写日记的当儿，哈罗德和斯图正在数那只火箭发射器里的火箭个数，共有十七八枚。上帝保佑他们别把自己给报销了。 说起哈罗德，亲爱的日记，我要告诉你他没有怀疑任何事（听起来像老贝特·戴维斯电影中的台词，是不是）。当我们赶上阿巴盖尔妈妈的队伍时，我想他一定会得知的；无论会发生什么，再隐瞒下去都不太好。 今天，我从未看到过他这么欢快，这么喜悦。他的嘴咧得真大，让我觉得他的脸都快要乐开花了！正是他建议斯图帮他弄那只危险的火箭发射器的，而且—— 他们现在回来了。下次再写吧。 法兰妮沉沉地睡去，连梦都没有做。其他人也都睡了，除了哈罗德，尽管他一整天都笑个不停，现在脸上却没有一丝一毫的笑意。有时他感觉自己笑得脸都要从中间裂开，脑浆都要溢出来了。 他站在那儿，低头凝视着她，倾听着夏夜蟋蟀的低鸣。“现在正是狗日，”他想。狗日，在韦氏字典中是指7月25日至8月28日的这段时间。之所以这样命名是因为据说这一时间疯狗似乎大行其道。他看着法兰妮，她睡得是那样的香甜，她把衬衫当作枕头。小包就放在身边。 凡人皆有得意日，法兰妮。 他跪下时，膝盖一弯，枪发出了点儿声响，他稳住身形，好在没人醒来。他解开包上的扣，松开系带，伸手到里面摸。他用一支微型手电筒照着包里面的东西。这时，法兰妮从沉沉的睡梦中低哼了几声，挪动了一下身子，哈罗德屏住呼吸。在包的最底部，在三件干净衣服和一本袖珍交通地图每下他发现了他想要的东西。一个用螺旋丝装订的笔记本。他抽出了笔记本，翻到第一页，用电筒照在法兰妮写的密密麻麻、却又极为清晰的字迹上： “1990年7月6日——经过一番劝说，贝特曼同意跟我们一起走……” 哈罗德合上本子，带上它爬回了睡袋。他感觉自己又回到了从前，一个朋友不多，敌人不少的小男孩，他短暂而美好童年只维持到3岁左右，从那之后，他一直是个又胖又丑的笑料；一个多多少少不受父母重视的小男孩——他们的目光都集中在埃米身上，她开始了竞选大西洋城美国小姐的漫长跋涉——一个把书本当作慰籍的小男孩；一个从未放弃被选拔到棒球队，也念念不忘当学校童子军队员，成为大个子约翰·西尔弗或是机智勇敢、力大无穷的人或是菲利普·肯特的小男孩……；一个深夜里偷偷打着电筒看书，仿佛已成为了那些人，兴奋得眼睛睁得大大的，几乎闻不到自己的屁味的小男孩；这个男孩现在带着法兰妮的日记和手电筒爬到了睡袋底部。 当他将一束光线射到笔记本的封面抬头时，竟有一阵慌乱。过了一会儿，残存的理智呼唤着：哈罗德！stop!这声音是如此强烈，以致他觉得脚后跟都在震颤。他几乎动不了了。过了一会儿，好像是想通了，可以就此收手，可以把日记放回原处，可以向她坦白，也可以在某些可怕的、不可挽回的情况发生前由他们去了。他可以拿开这杯苦酒，把酒从杯中倒掉，然后再斟满这个世界为他准备的任何东西。哈罗德，放弃它吧，这种正义之声乞求道，但或许这已经太晚了。 16岁时，他已经放弃了巴勒斯、史蒂文森和罗伯特·霍华德，热衷于其他幻想，那种既爱得轰轰烈烈又恨得如火如荼的幻想——并非火箭和海盗，而是穿着透明丝质睡衣的姑娘们跪在他面前光滑柔软的缎子枕头上，哈罗德——这位大人物则一丝不挂懒洋洋地坐在宝座上，准备用小皮鞭和银头小棍鞭笞她们。奥甘奎特高等学校的每一个漂亮姑娘都在不同的时候漫游在这些苦涩的幻想中。这样的白日梦往往随着精囊膨胀，精液迸出而结束，带来的诅咒要比快感多。然后，他便睡去，干结的精液像鱼鳞一样粘在肚子上。凡人皆有得意日。 现在，他满脑一子回想的都是那些苦涩的幻想，那些旧日的创伤，就像一张张泛黄的报纸，这些老朋友并未消逝，牙口并未变钝，它们致命的影响也没有动摇。 他翻到第一页，用手电筒照着字，开始看了起来。 黎明前，他将日记本放回了法兰妮包里，系好了包上的带子。他没有什么预防不测的招术。如果她醒了，他残酷地想，他会杀了她，然后跑掉。Where are you going?往西跑。但他不会停在内布拉斯加或是科罗拉多，噢，不。 她没有醒。 他回到了自己的睡袋。他睡得很浅。他梦见自己从岩石和月球巨砾纷纷滚落的陡坡上住下跑，快到半山腰时，觉得自己快要死了。头上高高的地方，借助夜晚的热气流，鹰在盘旋，久久不去，等待将他做成一道美餐。天上没有月亮，也没有星星。 接着，黑暗中睁着一支恐怖的红眼睛：像狐狸般诡诈，令人生畏。那只眼睛虽然令他恐惧，却也吸引他。 那只眼睛诱惑了他。 西方，夜幕正在敛去，在晨曦中跳着死亡之舞。 太阳落山的时候，他们支起了帐篷，他们现在位于伊利诺伊州的乔利埃特市西侧。那里充满了啤酒和欢声笑语。他们感觉已将印第安那州的坏运气抛在了脑后。大家都特别注意哈罗德，他从未这样高兴过。 “哈罗德，你知道，”法兰妮那天晚上晚些时候说，这时聚会开始散了，“我想我从未见到你感觉这么好。为什么？” 他高兴地向她挤了个眼。“凡人皆有得意日，法兰妮。” 她回报了他一个微笑，显得有点儿吃惊。但她想这才是哈罗德，人很单纯。It doesn't matter.有关系的是那些终归要降临的事情。 那天晚上，哈罗德开始写他自己的日记。