Chapter 74 Chapter 73

The three of them bivouaced 16 miles west of Stu.They came across a second ravine, this one a little smaller.The real reason they had come such a short distance was that they were all a bit out of their wits.It's hard to say they've all returned to normal.Their steps seem to be heavier.Walking along the way, they didn't talk much to each other.They also don't want to look at other people's faces, and they are afraid of seeing similar guilty expressions on other people's faces. After dark, they camped and lit bonfires.There is water, but no food. Grant stuffed the last bit of tobacco he had on hand into the pipe, and suddenly wondered again if Stu still had cigarettes now.The thought spoiled his interest in the tobacco, and he knocked it out on the rock, not noticing that the last of his tobacco had been knocked out.After a few minutes, an owl hooted from somewhere in the night, and he looked around.

"Hey, where's Kojak?" he asked. "Now, kind of strange, isn't it?" said Ralph, "I don't remember seeing him at all these hours." Gran stood up. "Kojak!" he yelled, "Hi Kojak! Kojak!" His voice echoed alone in the wilderness.no answer.He sat down again, full of anxiety.He had an ominous thought.Kojak had followed him all over the continent.Now he is lost.It's like a bad omen. "What do you think will happen to him?" asked Ralph softly. Larry said in a calm, thoughtful tone, "Maybe he's staying at Stu's."

Gran looked up, surprised. "Possibly," he said, considering the possibility. "Probably so." Larry threw a pebble back and forth in his hand. "He said God might send a crow to feed him, and I thought if there was one less dog here, maybe God would send another dog instead." There was a bang in the fire, a few sparks in the darkness, and then silence again. When Stu saw a dark figure coming down the ravine toward him, he braced himself on a nearby boulder, his legs stretched stiffly in front of him, and found a convenient rock.He felt icy cold.Larry was right, he couldn't last two or three days in that temperature.And now whatever it was would probably kill him first.Kojak stayed with him until dark, then left, climbing the ravine easily.Stu didn't call him back.The dog will find its way back to Gran.Maybe he's on his own.But now he wished Kojak had stayed a little longer.Pills would be one thing, but he didn't want to be torn to pieces by the man in black's pack.

He gripped the stone more tightly, and the dark figure paused about twenty yards above, then moved on, darker in the evening. "Come on," Stu yelled hoarsely. The black shadow wagged its tail and continued walking forward. "Kojak?" This shadow is exactly that.And with something in his mouth, he threw it at Stu's feet.He sat up and tapped his tail, waiting to be praised. "Good dog." Stu said pleasantly, "Good dog!" Kojak brought him a rabbit. Stu took out his knife and peeled the rabbit open in two or three strokes.He eviscerated and threw it to Kojak. "Want these?" Kojak liked just that.Stu skinned the rabbit.But if it is eaten raw, it is not very appetizing to him.

"Wood?" he said to Kojak with little hope.There were many branches and pieces of wood washed down by the flood scattered on the bank of the ravine, but he couldn't reach them. Kojak wagged his tail, but didn't move. "Get some? Take..." Kojak was gone.He wobbled and climbed up to the east bank of the ravine, and came back with a large piece of wood in his mouth.He dropped the log beside Studi and yelled a few times.His tail flicked violently. "Good dog," said Stu again, "I'm a bitch now! Go get some more, Kojak!" Kojak yelled happily and left again. Twenty minutes later, he had brought back enough wood to start a big fire.

Stu carefully peeled off enough splinters to start the fire.He checked the condition of the matches and found that he still had a box and a half left.He lit the kindling with the second match, then carefully added wood to the fire, and soon a great fire was ablaze.Stu sat as close to the fire as he could, on his sleeping bag.Kojak leaned on the other side of the fire, nose resting on his paws. When the fire simmered a little, Stu stretched the rabbit over the fire to roast.The rabbit soon smelled good, making his stomach growl.Kojak stood up beside him, salivating. "Half for you, half for me, big guy, how about it?"

After 15 minutes, he dragged the rabbit out of the fire and figured out how to split it in half without burning his hands.The rabbit was half burnt and the other half undercooked, but it was much better than the canned ham at the Great Western Market.He and Kojak gobbled it up...and when they were about to finish, a blood-curdling howl came over the hollow. "My God!" Stu turned his head, his mouth full of rabbit meat. Kojak stood at his feet, Mao stood upright, barking.He walked around the edge of the fire and barked again.The place where the howling was just now was silent. Stu lay down, holding the stone in one hand and the open knife in the other.The stars hung silently and indifferently high in the sky.He thought of Franny again, and he put that out of his mind as best he could.But the pain was too severe, the pain of the whole body and mind.I can't sleep, he thought.Couldn't sleep for a long time.

But, with the help of a pill Gran gave him, he did fall asleep.And when the fire burned to ashes, Kojak went to Stu's side and slept next to him, keeping each other warm.That's why, the first night they left Stu, Stu was full and the others were hungry, and Stu slept easily while the others had nightmares and felt like they were about to die. On the 24th, Larry Underwood and his party advanced 30 miles and camped in the northwest area of ​​the San Rafael Mountains.That night, when the temperature dropped to around 25 degrees Fahrenheit, they built a large fire and slept by the edge of it.Kojak has not yet returned to them.

"What do you think Stu is doing tonight?" Ralph asked Larry. "Dying," Larry replied quickly, and he felt a little sorry when he saw Ralph's plain, honest face contorted with pain, but he didn't know how to make it up.And, it's a fact after all. He lay down again, feeling unnaturally strong, and that would be tomorrow.No matter what they come to, they are not far away. Nightmares continued that night.He toured with a band called the Shed Bruce, which he remembers very well in his waking hours.They're booked at Madison Square Garden, where tickets are already sold.They came out to warm applause.Larry came out and tried to adjust his mic, turn it down a bit, but couldn't.He walks up to the first guitarist's mic, but that's fixed too.The same goes for the bass guitarist, the organist's mic.Boos and applause started to come from the crowd.The Shed Blues came off the stage one by one, smiling wryly, in the same fantasy shirt that Byrd used to wear in 1966, when Roger was eight feet tall.And Larry was still walking up and down the stage, trying to find a microphone that could be adjusted.But they're all at least 9 feet tall, and they're all stationary.They look like cobras made of stainless steel.Someone in the crowd started yelling, "Honey, are you satisfied with your man?" I'm not doing it anymore, he tried.I quit when the world ends.They could not hear him, but from the back came the chorus, growing louder and stronger, throughout the garden. "Baby, are you satisfied with your man? Baby, are you satisfied with your man? Baby, are you satisfied with your man?"

He woke up amidst the commotion.Sweat all over the body. He didn't need Gran to tell him what kind of dream it was or what it meant.Not being able to touch the microphone or adjust it in a dream is as common among Rolling Stones musicians as it is to be on stage in a dream and not remember a word of the lyrics.Larry guessed that all singers had a similar experience before going on stage. Before playing. This is an incomplete dream.It simply expresses an intense fear.What if you can't?What if you want to do it but can't?This fear of powerlessness is where many artists—singers, writers, painters, musicians—begin to lose heart.

Get out there, Larry. Whose voice is that?His mother's? You will make it, Larry. No, Mom - I won't.I'm not going to go any further.When it's the end of the world I'll be over.real. He lay down again and continued to sleep.It finally occurred to him that Stu was right: the man in black would come for them.Tomorrow, he thought.Anyway here we are, we're almost there. However, they did not see a single person on the 25th.The three of them walked under the blue sky in a daze, and saw many birds and beasts, but there were no people. "It was surprisingly fast, the wild life started again," Grant said. "I also know that this is a fairly fast process, and of course winter is coming, but it is still quite amazing. From the last time until now, only About 100 days." "Yes, but no dogs and no horses," said Ralph. "It looks kind of wrong, you know? They've built something that kills everyone in the vicinity, and that's not all. It's going to kill two of our closest animals. It's going to destroy A close friend of man and man." "And keep the cat," said Larry sullenly. Ralph's eyes lit up. "Hey, and Kojak..." "And Kojak." This ended their conversation.The hills ahead of them crooked, as if frowning, and could hide dozens of men with guns and binoculars.Larry still had the premonition that something was going to happen today.Every time they climbed up the hill, he expected the road below to be full of people.And this situation did not happen every time, he thought it was an ambush. They talked about horses.Speaking of dogs and bison.Ralph told them the buffalo were coming back--Nick and Tom Curran both saw it.That day isn't very far away—probably in their lifetime—when the grasslands are repopulated with bison. Larry knew it was all true.But he also knew it was all bullshit—they'd probably die in less than 10 minutes. It was getting dark, and it was time to find a place to camp.They came to a plateau, and now, Larry thought, they might be down there. But there is nothing there. They were camped, and nearby was a green reflective sign that said Las Vegas 260.They ate relatively well that day: Chipotle chips, soda, two bottles of Jim's Diet Water. Tomorrow, Larry thought again, and fell asleep.That night he dreamed that he was performing at Madison Square Garden with Barry and some other members.They had a big scene this time - they played for big groups in the city.Boston or Chicago.And with all the mics at least 9 feet tall, he started walking from one mic to the next as the crowd started clapping rhythmically while chanting "Fuck, do you know your people?" He looked at the front row and suddenly broke out in a cold sweat.Charles Manson sat there, the scar on his forehead contorted and dancing in the shape of an X.Richard Speck was there too, looking at Larry smugly and shamelessly, with an unfiltered cigarette dangling from his mouth.They surrounded the man in black.John Wayne was behind them.Flagg led them in singing. Tomorrow, Larry thought again, walking from one microphone to the other under the spotlight at Madison Square Garden.I will see you tomorrow. But still nothing happened the next day, or the day after that.By the evening of September 27 they were camped in the small town of Fremont Junction, where there was plenty to eat. "I want this to be over," Larry told Grant that night. "Every day it doesn't happen, it just keeps getting worse." Gran nodded. "I think so too. It would be ridiculous if it were just fantasy, wouldn't it? Might be a nightmare for all of us." Larry looked at him in amazement and thought for a moment, then he shook his head slowly, "No, I don't believe it's just a dream." Gran laughed. "Neither do I, young man. Neither do I." They continued to discuss this issue at a later time. Just after 10 o'clock in the morning, they climbed a high slope, five miles west facing below them, where two cars parked head-to-head, blocking the highway.This seemed to be exactly what Larry had envisioned. "Accident?" Gran asked. Ralph shook his head. "I don't think so. The accident shouldn't have stopped the car like that." "His people," Larry said. "Yes, I think so, too," agreed Ralph. "What shall we do now, Larry?" Larry took a bandanna from his pocket and wiped his face.Today, either summer is back or they are starting to feel the desert southwest climate.The temperature was 80 degrees Fahrenheit. But this is dry heat, he thought calmly.I only sweat a little.Just a little bit.He rolled up the bandanna and put it in his pocket.Now that it did happen, he felt fine.Again he felt strangely that this was a performance, a show to be put on. "Let's go down and see if God's really bless us. Will you, Gran?" "Listen to you." They started walking again.After walking for half an hour, they realized that the two vehicles facing each other belonged to the Utah State Patrol.There were several armed men waiting for them. "Are they going to shoot us?" asked Ralph. "I don't know," Larry said. "If they're going to shoot us, there's nothing we can do to get away." They move on.The people stuck in the road were divided into two parts.About 5 people were in front, pointing guns at these 3 people who were walking forward, while the other 3 people hid behind the car. "There's eight of them, Larry, isn't it?" Gran asked. "I counted eight, yes. How are you?" "I'm fine," Gran said. "Ralph?" "When it comes, do what we're supposed to do," Ralph said, "That's what I think." Larry took his hand and rubbed it.Then he went to shake Gran's hand again. They were within a mile of those patrolling. "They're not going to shoot us right away," Ralph said. "If they were going to shoot, they should have done it long ago." They could see each other's faces now, and Larry made them carefully.One is bearded.The other was young but very strong.He must have been a punk in middle school.Larry thought.Another was wearing a bright yellow dress with a drawing of a smiling llama, with super bumps written in cursive, old-fashioned letters beneath the llama.Another small man was touching a magnum from time to time, and Larry felt that he was so nervous that he looked as if he would fall over if he didn't lie down on his own. "They're no different from us," said Ralph. "Of course it's different," Gran replied. "They both have guns." They walked to within 20 feet of the police car blocking the road.Larry stopped, and so did the others.There was a dead silence, and Flagg's men and Larry looked at each other.Then, Larry Underwood said politely, "Hi there." The little man came forward, still fiddling with his bottle. "Are you Glenn Bateman, Larry Underwood, Stuart Redman and Ralph Breitner?" "Hey, you fool," said Ralph, "you can't count?" Someone was snickering.The little man's face flushed. "Who's not here?" Larry said, "Stu got into an accident on the road. And I'm sure you're going to hurt one of your own if you don't stop fiddling with your guns." More people laughed.The little man wore his gun loosely at his waist, which made him look even more ridiculous: Walter Mitty, a daydreaming fugitive. "My name is Paul Burleson," he said, "and, as authorized to me, I announce your arrest and order you to come with me." "In whose name?" said Gran at once. Burleson looked at him with contempt...but there was something else in it. "You know who I speak for." "Then say it." Burleson remained silent. "Are you afraid?" Gran asked him.He looked at all eight of them. "You're so scared of him that you can't even say his name? Very well, let me say it for you. His name is Randall Flagg, or the Man in Black, or the Tall Man, or "Pacer." Did any of you call him that?" His voice rose an octave with anger.Some of them looked at each other uneasily, and Burleson stepped back. "Call him Birzab, for that's his name too. Call him Ramsay and Ahaz and Astaros. Call him Forrest and Seti and Anubis. His names are many, He's a defector from hell, and you're still sucking up to him." His voice dropped again, and he laughed off guard. "Think about what we should do." "Get them," said Burleson, "get them all, and kill whoever makes the first move." Strange, no one did it, Larry thought: they wouldn't do it, we're afraid of them, but they're more afraid of us, even if they have guns... He looked at Burleson and said, "Are you kidding, you scum? We want to go. That's why we're here." Then they acted as if Larry had ordered them to.He and Ralph were strapped into the back of one patrol car, Gran in the back of another.The inside of the car is separated by a steel grid.There are no handles inside. We're under arrest, Larry thought.He found the thought pleasing to him. 4 people squeezed into the front seat.The patrol car reversed, turned around and headed west.Ralph sighed. "Scared?" Larry asked in a low voice. "I wish I knew. It's a good thing my dog ​​isn't around." Someone in the front row said, "That old man with the big mouth. Is he the boss?" "no." "What's your name?" "Larry Underwood. This is Ralph Brentner. The other is Glenn Bateman." He looked at the back window.Another car was behind them. "What happened to the fourth man?" "He broke his leg. We just had to leave him there." "That's right. I'm Barry Dorgan. Security guard in Vegas." Larry's answer was a little ridiculous, "Nice to meet you," the words came to his lips, and he smiled. "How far is it to drive to Las Vegas?" "Because there are roadblocks on the road, it is impossible for us to drive too fast. We are clearing roadblocks from the city side, and progress is very slow. We will arrive in about five hours." "That's not the case with us," Ralph said, shaking his head. "We've been on the road for three weeks, and you guys drove here from Las Vegas in five hours." Dogan turned his head until he saw them. "I don't understand why you're walking. And I don't understand why you're here. You should know that's what happened." "We were sent," said Larry, "to kill Flagg, I suppose." "You don't stand a chance, fools. You and your friends are going straight to Las Vegas County Jail. There's no way you'll be released, or released on bond. He's interested in you. He knows you're coming." He paused. "You probably want a quick one. But I don't think he will. He's been in a bad mood lately." "Why?" Larry asked. But Dorgan felt he had talked too much—probably too much.He turned away, not answering their questions. Larry and Ralph watched the desert fall back quickly.The speed of travel increased again. It actually took them 6 hours to get to Vegas.It is in the middle of the desert like a rare jewel.There are many people in the streets: the working day is over, people are sitting on the grass, on benches, in cars, or in the foyers of abandoned wedding chapels and pawnshops, enjoying the early morning coolness.They watched the Utah police cars speeding by curiously before returning to their original conversation. Larry looked around, thinking.The power supply is normal, the streets are tidy and the gravel has been cleared. "Gran's right," he said. "He's on the punctual development train. But I'm still wondering if there's a place to fix the railroad. You folks seem to be complaining, Dorgan." Dogan didn't answer. They drove to the county jail and went around the back door.There were two cars parked in the concrete yard.When Larry got out of the car, flexing his muscles, he saw Dogan with two sets of handcuffs. "Hey, what are you doing," he said, "don't be kidding me." "I'm sorry. It was his order." Ralph said: "I have never been handcuffed in my life. Before I got married, I was caught and thrown in a pitcher several times, but I was never handcuffed." Ralph Word for word, his Oklahoma accent was clear, and Larry knew he was furious. "I'll follow orders," Dorgan said, "don't make me hard." Larry said, "I know who gave you orders. He killed my friend Nick. Why are you with this villain? You don't look like a bad guy." He looked at Dogen with an expression, and Dogen turned his face to look elsewhere. "It's my job," he said, "and I'm doing it. No more explaining. Hold out your hand, or I'll send someone to help you." Larry held out his hand, and Dogan handcuffed him. "What did you do before?" Larry asked curiously, "Before?" "Santa Monica Police Department. Detective." "And you followed him. It's... pardon me for saying this, but it's kind of ridiculous." Gran was pushed between them. "Why are you pushing him like that?" Dorgan asked angrily. "If you had to listen to this guy talk crap for 6 hours, you'd push him too," said one. "I don't care how much bullshit you've heard, get your hands off." Dorgan looked at Larry. "Why do I feel ridiculous doing it with him? I was a cop for 10 years before 'Captain's Journey' was all the rage. You Look, I know what happens when people like you get arrested." "Young man," Grant said benevolently, "your experience of catching punks and drug addicts doesn't match what you're doing now." "Get them out of here," Dorgan said quietly. "Single cell, solitary." "I don't think you can choose that life, young man," Gran said. "You don't have a lot of Nazi inside you." This time it was Dorgan himself who pushed Gran away. Separated from the other two, Larry was led down an empty corridor marked with signs: NO SPIT, THIS WAY TO THE BATHROOM.Another wrote, you are not a guest. "I don't mind taking a shower," he said. "It's possible," Dorgan said. "We'll see." "Look at what?" "It depends on your cooperative attitude." Dogan opened a cell at the end of the corridor and pushed Larry inside. "What about the bracelet?" Larry asked, holding out his hand. "Of course." Dogan uncuffed it and took it off, "Better?" "much better." "Do you still want to take a shower?" "Of course I would." Not only that, but Larry didn't want to be held in solitary, listening to the echo of footsteps.That fear would come again if he was held incommunicado. Dogan took out a small notebook. "How many of you? What area are you in?" "Six thousand people," said Larry, "we're all playing Thursday night, and the prize is a twenty-pound turkey." "Do you still want to take a shower?" "I would." But he figured he wouldn't get the chance. "How many of you are there?" "25,000, but there are 4,000 people under the age of 12, wandering around. Simply put, vagrants." Dogan snapped the book shut and looked at him. "I can't say, sir," said Larry, "putting you in my shoes." Dogan shook his head. "I'll do it again, I'm no fool. Why do you come here? Do you think it's any good? He'll kill you like dogs tomorrow or the day after. Gotta do it. If he wants you to pick the moon, you have to do the same. You must be crazy." "We're here on the orders of an old lady. Mama Abagil. It's likely you've dreamed of her." Dorgan shook his head, and suddenly his eyes no longer met Larry's. "I don't know what you're talking about." "Then let's talk about this." "Obviously, you don't want to talk to me anymore? Still want to take a shower?" Larry smiled. "I won't make it easy for you. What if you send your spies to us. Mention Mama Abagil's name and you'll find everyone frightened like a weasel, that's all." "You found it yourself," Dorgan said.He stepped out of the hallway under the grid-shaded lamp.At the end of the hallway, he stepped out of a steel grille, which slammed shut with a loud bang. Larry looked around.Like Ralph, he was in jail on several occasions—once for public drunkenness, another for an ounce of marijuana.The passion of youth. "This is not a luxury hotel." He muttered to himself. The mattress on the bed was so hard that he wondered uneasily if someone had died on it in late June or early July.The toilet was functional but filled with dirty, rancid sewage, obviously not used for a long time.Someone left a paperback.Larry picked it up and put it down again.He sat on the bed and listened quietly.He hated being alone - but actually, he often had to be alone... until he came to the land of the free.Now it's not as scary as he thought.Very bad, but he can handle it. He'll kill you like dogs tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Larry didn't believe that.Things don't work that way. "I'm not afraid of any evil," he said, his voice echoing around the cell, and he liked it.He said it again. He lay back, thinking that he was finally back on the West Coast again.But this transit was unimaginable for any one time.And this time it's not quite over yet. "I am not afraid of any evil," he repeated.He was asleep with a peaceful face and no dreams. At ten o'clock the next day, twenty-four hours after they had first seen the two cars, Randall Flagg and Lloyd Henrid came to see Glenn Bateman. He sat with his legs curled up on the floor of the cell.He found a piece of charcoal under the bed and wrote their little stories on the wall, along with some other obscenities, male and female genitals, names, phone numbers and some crooked poems: I am not a potter, nor a potter's wheel , I am the brick: the value of the shape is in the brick and not in the potter's wheel or the potter's skill.Grant liked the poem—or the aphorism—when the temperature suddenly dropped ten degrees.The door at the end of the corridor rattled open.The saliva in Gran's mouth suddenly disappeared, and the charcoal was caught between his fingers. Footsteps in the corridor came towards him. Other footsteps, much softer, followed. It's him, I want to meet him. Suddenly his joints hurt again.It hurts, to be honest.It felt as though his bones had been emptied and filled with glass.Even so, there was an expectant smile on his face as the footsteps stopped in front of his cell. "Here you come," said Gran, "you're no match for the villain we've imagined." Standing opposite are two men, Flagg to Lloyd's right.He was wearing blue jeans and a white silk shirt that shone in the dim light.He was smiling at Gran.Behind him there is a small man, serious and unsmiling.His jaw protruded and his eyes were too large for his face.One look at his face and you know the desert isn't kind to him: he's scorched by the sun, cracked, and scorched.Around his neck is a black stone with red patches on it.Like a greasy eye. "I want you to meet my colleagues," Flagg said with a smile. "Lloyd Henrider, come see Glenn Bateman, sociologist, member of the Free State Council, because Nick Ann Dros is dead, and he is now the only surviving member of the Free State Brain Tank." "Hello," Lloyd muttered. "How's your arthritis, Gran?" Flagg asked.His expression seemed concerned, but there was joy and mystery in his eyes. Gran opened and closed his hands quickly, smiling at Flagg.No one knows how much effort it takes to keep a smile like that. The Intrinsic Value of Bricks and Tile! "It's fine," he said. "It's better to sleep in the house, thank you." Flagg's smile changed.Gran caught a hint of surprise and anger.or fear? "I decided to let you go." He said suddenly.His smile bounced back, a sly gleam.Lloyd snorted in surprise, and Flagg turned to him. "Isn't it, Lloyd?" "Uh... of course," Lloyd said, "of course." "Okay." Gran said lightly.He felt that the pain in the joints was getting worse and worse, numb as if soaked in ice, and burning like fire. "You can get a motorcycle and drive it back if you want." "Of course I can't leave my friend and go alone." "Of course not. And all you have to do is beg me. Get on your knees and beg me." Gran laughed.He looked up and laughed heartily for a while.When he laughed, the pain in his joints began to ease.He felt better again, stronger, more in control. "Oh, you bastard," he said, "I'll tell you what to do. Why don't you go find a big sand pile, get yourself a big hammer, and slap all the sand on your ass?" Flagg turned blue, and the smile was fading.His eyes, which had been as black as Lloyd's stones just now, now shone bright yellow.He reached out and grabbed the handle of the door, turning it around.There was a humming sound.Flames burst from his fingers, and the air smelled of burning heat.The lock box fell to the ground, charred and smoking.Lloyd Henrider gave a cry and went out.The man in black grabbed the gate bars and shook them back and forth. "Do not laugh." Gran laughed even louder. "Don't laugh in my face!" "What are you!" said Gran, wiping his eyes and laughing. "Oh, forgive me...we were so scared...what a deal we made with you...I laughed at our own stupidity and your uselessness..." "Shoot him, Lloyd." Flagg turned to the other man.His face was terrible.His hands curl up like the seeds of a carnivore. "Oh, if you want to kill me, do it yourself," said Gran, "of course you can. Grab me with your hands and stop my heart from beating. Put the anti-cross over my head. Cleave me in half with the overhead light. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Gran rocked back and forth on the cot, laughing all the time. "Shoot him!" the man in black yelled at Lloyd. Lloyd, pale and trembling with terror, nearly dropped the pistol he had drawn from his pocket, grasped it with both hands, and tried to shoot at Gran. Gran looked at Lloyd, still smiling.He might have been talking and laughing at a New Hampshire cocktail party, but now he was in a life-and-death situation. "If you must shoot, Mr. Henrider, please kill him." "Do it now, Lloyd." Lloyd closed his eyes and fired.The gun made a loud noise in such a small space, and the echo was very strong.But the bullet only hit two inches from Gran's right shoulder, bounced off, hit something else, and made a little noise. "Can't you do something better?" Flagg yelled. "Shoot him, you imbecile! Shoot him! He's standing right in front of you!" "I'm trying to..." Gran's smile hadn't changed, and he froze for a moment when he heard the gunshot. "I repeat, if you must shoot, please kill him. You know, he is not human. I once told a friend that he was the last wizard of the rational mind, Mr. Henrider. You know better than I'm more. But he's losing his powers now. And he knows it's slipping from him. And you know it too. Killing him now saves us all, God knows how many will bleed to death." Flagg's face became more and more calm. "Anyway, shoot one of us, Lloyd," he said. “当你要饿死的时候，是我把你从监狱里救出来。你想要投靠这样的家伙。像这种吹大话的小角色。” 劳埃德说，“长官，别捉弄我了，这像兰德尔·弗拉格的话。” “但是他在撒谎，你知道他在撒谎。” “在我令人恶心的整个生活中，他告诉我的真相比任何人告诉的都要多。”劳埃德说，然后向格兰开了3枪。格兰被打得向后晃了晃，身体弯曲，血喷了出来。他倒在床上，弹了回来，又滚落在地。他试图用肘撑起来。 “好，好，亨赖德先生，”他小声说，“你不明白。” “闭嘴，你这个大嘴老杂种！”劳埃德喊道。他又射了一枪，格兰的脸模糊了。他又射了一枪，格兰身体无力地弹了一下。劳埃德又射了一枪。他在哭泣。泪水从他愤怒、灼晒的脸颊流下。他又记起他曾经忘记喂的那只兔子。他又记起在怀特科尼、格洛乌斯。他还记起凤凰城监狱，那里的老鼠，还有床垫里那令人讨厌的虱子。他记起了特拉斯克，特拉斯克的腿看起来像肯德基烤鸡。他又扣动扳机，但是手枪只是发出咔嗒声。 “好了，”弗拉格温柔地说，“好了，干得好。干得好，劳埃德。” 劳埃德把枪扔在地上，从弗拉格身边缩开。“你不会碰我的吧！”他哭道，“我不是为你做的！” “是的，你是的，”弗拉格轻轻地说，“你可能不这么想，但是你这么做了。”他伸出手去摸了摸缠在劳埃德脖子上的石头。他握住拳头，当他再次伸开手的时候，石头不见了，取而代之的是一个小的银钥匙。 “我许诺你这个，我想，”黑衣人说，“在另一个监狱。他是错的……我信守诺言。好不好，劳埃德？” "OK." “其他人正在离开这里，或是准备离开这里。我知道他们是谁。我知道所有的名宇。惠特尼……肯……詹尼……喔，是的，我知道所有的名字。” “那你为什么不……” “阻止他们？我不知道。可能最好是让他们走。但是你，劳埃德。你是我最好和最忠实的仆人，是吧？” “是的，”劳埃德小声说，最后承认，“是的，我想是的。” “没有我，即使你逃出了监狱，你充其量也不过是个小人物。是不是？” "yes." “这个叫劳德的男孩知道这一点。他知道我能使他更大、更高，这是他为什么来这里的原因。但是他的主意太多……太多……”他突然觉得有些困惑和苍老。然后他不耐烦地摆摆手，脸上又堆出笑容。“可能情况在变糟，劳埃德。有可能，因为一些连我也没有弄明白的原因……但是这个老术士仍留有一点魔法。一个或两个。现在听我说。如果我们要想阻止的话时间已经不多了……信仰危机。如果我们想要在萌芽状态掐断它，就像我们平时所做的一样，我们要在明天与安德伍德和布伦特纳结束一切。现在认真听我的……” 到午夜时分劳埃德还没有上床，直到清晨才睡着觉。他与鼠人谈话。他与保罗·伯利森谈话。与巴里·多根谈话时，他也认为黑衣人想、可能——或是将要——在天亮前做完。 29日晚上10点钟左右在广场前的草地上，10个人组成一队带着焊接工具、锤子、螺钉和大量的长钢管。他们在喷泉前的两个平面货车上堆放钢管。这很快引来一群人。 “看，妈妈！”迪尼叫，“这要有焰火表演！” “是呀，但是现在是孩子们上床睡觉的时候了。”安吉·希施费尔特心中有一种潜在的恐惧，她把孩子拉开，感觉到不好的兆头，某种可能像超级感冒一样恶毒的东西正在建造。 “我要看！我要看焰火！”迪尼又哭又叫，但她还是坚决而又迅速地把他拉开。 朱莉·劳里走近鼠人，在维加斯他是唯一太鬼鬼祟祟以至于无法与他睡觉的人——除非在特殊时刻。他的黑皮肤在焊铁工具的白光照耀下闪闪发光。他的打扮像是个埃塞俄比亚海盗——宽大的丝绸裤、红腰带，在他骨瘦如柴的脖子上挂着一个银色的项链。 “这是什么，拉蒂？”她问。 “鼠人不知道，亲爱的，但是鼠人有个主意。是的他有。看来明天要有非常残酷的事情了，非常残酷。想和鼠人待一待吗，亲爱的？” “可能，”朱莉说，“但是你得知道这全都是关于什么的。” “明天所有的维加斯人都会知道的，”拉蒂说，“你用你的糖来打赌，来和鼠人斗一斗吧，亲爱的，而且他会告诉你上帝的9000个名字。” 但是令鼠人非常不高兴的是，朱莉离开了。 到这个时候，劳埃德终于去睡觉了。工作做完了，人群也轰开了。 两个大笼子放在两个卡车的后面，在每个笼子的左右两边各有方形的洞。停在旁边的还有4辆车，每个都带着拖钩。连在拖钩上的是沉重的钢制拖链。这些钢链放在草地里，每一条都连在笼子的方形洞里。 在钢链的末端晃动着一副手铐。 9月30日早晨天蒙蒙亮，拉里听见牢房远处的门开了。脚步声很快地涌下走廊。拉里正躺在床铺上，手垫在脑袋后面。昨天晚上他没有睡着觉。他在…… think?pray? 这都是一回事。否认它有什么用，在他的内心深处旧的创伤已经消失了，他现在非常平静。他感到自己一生之中曾经作过两个人——真实的一个和理想的一个——合二为一成为生活中的他。他的妈妈会喜欢现在的拉里的。而丽塔·布莱克莫尔也是如此。 我就要死了。如果有上帝的话——而且现在我相信一定有的——这是它的意愿。我们要去死，而随着我们的死所有这些都会结束了。 他怀疑格兰·贝特曼已经死了。前一天在旁边的屋子里有枪声，很多枪声。这是在格兰的那个方向，而不是拉尔夫的那个方向。当然，他已经老了，他的关节炎一直在困扰他，而且不论弗拉格计划今天早晨做什么，那一定是令人不愉快的。 脚步声在他的牢房前停了下来。 “起来，”一个欢快的声音传了进来，“鼠人来带你走。” 拉里朝四周看了看。一张黑衣人海盗般的笑脸，脖子上戴着一串银链，这个人站在门口，一只手里握着剑。在他的后面站着一个戴眼镜的人，他的名字是伯利森。 “干什么？”拉里问。 “亲爱的先生，”这个海盗说，“最后时刻。你的最后时刻。” “好的。”拉里说。然后站起身来。 伯利森很快地说，“我想让你知道这不是我的主意。”拉里注意到他有些害怕。 “就我来说，这都没有什么不同。”拉里说，“昨天谁被杀了？” “贝特曼，”伯利森说，低下眼睛。“试图逃走。” '试图逃走。”拉里低声说。他开始笑起来。鼠人也笑起来，拿他取笑。他们都笑了。 牢房的门打开了。伯利森带着手铐走进来。拉里并没有反抗，只是抬起他的双手。伯利森为他带上了手铐。 “试图逃走，”拉里说，“这几天你们就会因为试图逃走而被枪毙，伯利森。”他的眼睛又转向了那个海盗。“你也一样，鼠人。只是因为试图逃走而被枪毙。”他又开始笑。这次鼠人没有跟他一起笑。他愠怒地望着拉里，举起他的剑。 “拿下来，你这个笨蛋。”伯利森说。 他们排成一排出去——伯利森、拉里，鼠人断后。当他们经过牢房尽头的门时，又有5个人加入到他们中间。其中一个就是拉尔夫，也带着手铐。 “嘿，拉里，”拉尔夫悲伤地说，“你听说了吗？他们告诉你了吗？” "Yes, I heard." “杂种。他们就要到尽头了，是不是？” "yes." “你们闭嘴！”其中一人厉声喝叱，“你们就要完蛋了。你们可以看看他为你们准备了些什么。那将是一个聚会。” “不，这要结束了，”拉尔夫坚持说，“你们不知道吗？你们感觉不到吗？” 鼠人推了拉尔夫一把，差点使他摔倒。“闭嘴！”他怒喊，“鼠人不要再听到这些废话了！不要！” “你真是浅薄，鼠人，”拉里笑着说，“极其浅薄。你现在就像一块烂肉一样。” 鼠人又举起他的剑，但是这次他不是在威胁。他看起来有些害怕，他们全部都是。空气中弥漫着一种感觉，他们仿佛进到了一个巨大的、凶猛的阴影之中。 一辆旁边印着拉斯维加斯县监狱的橄榄色货车停在阳光明媚的院子里。拉里和拉尔夫被推了进去。门砰的一声关上了，车子发动起来，他们开走了。他们坐在硬木长椅上面，带着手铐的手放在膝中间。 拉尔夫低声说，“我听他们中的一个人说维加斯所有的人都要到那里去。你想他们会把我们用十字架钉死吗，拉里？” “或是还有什么别的刑罚。”他看着这个大个子。拉尔夫汗渍斑斑的帽子扣在他的头上。羽毛都已经磨损弄脏了，但是它还是不屈地撑着。“你害怕了，拉尔夫？” “很害怕，”拉尔夫小声说，“我，我从小就怕疼。我从来不喜欢到医生那里去打针。如果可能的话，我就找一个理由去拖延。你怎么样？” “我也是。你坐过来挨在我的身边，好吗？” 拉尔夫站起身来，手铐的链子叮当作响，他坐在拉里的身边。他们静静地坐了一会儿，然后拉尔夫温柔地说，“我们前面要有一长排。” "yes." “我知道这是为什么。我所见到的是这个家伙想要展示一下。于是所有的人又都认为他很厉害。这是我们来这里的目的吗？” "I have no idea." 货车静静地前行。他们默默地坐在长椅上，握着手。拉里也害怕，但是在害怕的感觉之余，他内心里有一种不受打扰的平静的感觉。就要出结果了。 “我不惧怕任何邪恶。”他自言自语，但是他还是害怕。他闭上眼，想起了露西。他想起了他的妈妈。胡思乱想。寒冷的早晨去上学。他们那次被送到教堂。在水槽里找到一本书和鲁迪一起看，那时他们都是9岁。在路易斯安那州第一个秋季与威特林一起看世界系列。他不想死，他害怕去死，但是他已经为此作好准备了。选择，毕竟不是他来做的，而他也相信死亡就像戏台上一样，是一个等待的地方，一个准备上台之前的绿屋子。 他尽可能地轻松一些，让自己准备好。 货车停了下来，门被拉开。强烈的阳光照了进来，使他和拉尔夫有些目眩。鼠人和伯利森跳了进来。伴随着阳光进来的还有一种声音——一种低沉的沙沙的低语声，这令拉尔夫警惕地抬起头。但是拉里知道那是什么。 1986年在表演四轮马车时——为在哈夫雷维的海伦车开幕，在出场之前的声音就像现在的声音。因此，当他走出货车的时候他知道会发生什么，他的脸色没有变化，尽管他能听见旁边拉尔夫紧促的呼吸声。 他们在一个巨大的饭店娱乐场的草地上。进口处有两座金黄色的金字塔。连在草地上的是两个平面卡车。在每一个卡车上面都有一个钢管做成的笼子。 在他们的周围是人群。 他们沿着草地围成了一个大圈子。他们或是站在娱乐场的停车处，或是通往门厅的路上，或是客人等待服务员的交口处。他们有的站在街上。有的年轻人就把他的女朋友举在肩上，以便更好地观看即将开始的节目。人群发出了低低的声音。 拉里用眼睛扫了他们一遍，所有的目光都不敢与他相对。他们的脸色都很苍白、无神，似乎打上了死亡的标记而自己也知道。然而他们来了。 他和拉尔夫被推进了笼子，当他们走时，拉里注意到汽车里装有铁链和钩子。拉尔夫明白这是什么意思，他毕竟大半辈子时间都花在与机器相关的事情上了。 “拉里，”他用嘶哑的声音说，“他们要把我们分尸！” “来吧，进去，”鼠人说，嘴里喷出一股大蒜的恶臭，“上到这里来，你和你的朋友要当老虎玩了。” 拉里爬上货车。 “脱下外衣。” 拉里脱下衬衣，光着膀子，清晨的凉风温柔地吹在他的身上。拉尔夫也脱下了他的衬衣。底下一阵窃窃私语，然后又停了下来。他们经过长时期的行进都非常瘦：肋条骨清晰可见。 “到笼子里去。” 拉里退到笼子里面。现在是巴里·多根在发布命令。他转来转去，检查各个部位，脸上显现厌恶的表情。 4个司机已经进到汽车里面，汽车已经发动起来了。拉尔夫呆呆地站了一会，然后抓住一只在他的笼子里晃动的手铐从小洞里扔了出去。手铐砸中了保罗·伯利森的头，人群中发出一阵紧张的窃笑。 多根说，“你不想这样做。那我就派几个人来按住你。” “由他们去吧。”拉里对拉尔夫说。他向下看着多根。“嘿，巴里。他们在圣莫尼卡警察局教你这些东西吗？” 人群中又发出笑声。“警察的残暴！”有个大胆的家伙喊了一句。多根脸红了，可是什么也没有说。他把链子往拉里的笼子里面伸长一些，而拉里则向它们吐痰，有点奇怪他居然有足够的口水。人群后面发出赞赏的声音，而拉里想，可能会行的，他们有可能会起义的。 但是他的内心并不期望这会发生。他们的脸色太苍白、太神秘。他们不太可能反抗。这只能是小孩子在学校的小小抱怨而已。这时存在着怀疑——他能感觉到这一点——一种不满。但是弗拉格能够控制局势。这些人可能在夜里会离开。“步行者”会让他们走，他只需保持像多根和伯利森这样的核心成员即可。走的人和午夜漫游者将在稍晚时候来，可能要为他们的不忠诚付出代价。这里不会有公开的反抗。 多根，鼠人和另外一个人涌进笼子里。鼠人打开链子上的手铐准备给拉里戴上。 “伸出手来。”多根说。 “这是法律还是命令呢，巴里？” “伸出手来，他妈的！” “你看起来不大好，多根……你的心脏最近怎么样？” “我最后一次告诉你，朋友。从洞里把手伸出来！” 拉里这么做了。手铐套上后又铐上了。多根等人退了出去，然后门就关上了。拉里朝右看去，拉尔夫站在他的笼子里，头低着，手放在旁边。他的手也被铐了起来。 “你们这些人应该知道这是不对的！”拉里喊道，他的声音因为多年来的歌唱训练而变得非常响亮。“我不希望你们会阻止它，但是我希望你们能够记住它！我们被处死是因为弗拉格害怕我们！他害怕我们和我们身后的人民！”人群中的声音更大了。“记住我们是如何死的！而且记住下次可能就是你们这样去死，毫无尊严，像笼子里的动物一样去死！” 人群中又发出声音，越来越高，越来越愤怒……然后是寂静。 “拉里！”拉尔夫大声喊。 弗拉格正在走下台阶。劳埃德·亨赖德在他的身边。弗拉格穿着牛仔裤、网格衬衣，外面套着一个夹克，还有他的牛仔靴。突然，全场只有他的靴底敲地的声音……时间似乎凝固了。 黑衣人在微笑。 拉里对他怒目而视。弗拉格来到两个笼子之间，停下来向上看。他的笑容带有一些残酷的味道。他是一个自控力非常强的人。拉里突然知道现在到了最关键的时刻了，是他生命中的升华点。 弗拉格转过身来朝向他的人民。他向人群扫过一遍，没有人敢看他的眼睛。 “劳埃德，”他平静地说，而劳埃德看起来脸色苍白一副饱受折磨重病缠身的样子，他递给弗拉格一张卷起来的纸。 黑衣人展开它，开始念起来。他的声音低沉，清晰，令人高兴，在寂静的会场上传开仿佛是在一个黑色池塘里一道银色的波纹。“我，兰德尔·弗拉格在1990年，也就是灾难之年的9月30日签署一项命令，现在称为第一号令。” “弗拉格不是你的名字！”拉尔夫大喊。人群中传来吃惊的声音。“你为什么不告诉他们你的真名呢？” 弗拉格不加理睬。 “我告诉你们，拉里·安德伍德和拉尔夫·布伦特纳是间谍。他们两人偷偷摸摸地趁夜晚进入我们州，不怀好意，意图扰乱治安……” “这话说得太好了，”拉里说，“既然我们在大白天从70号公路进来。”他提高到近乎喊的声音，“他们是在中午把我们从州界线处带来的，怎么能说是在夜晚偷偷潜入的呢？” 弗拉格安静地停下来，好像他早就知道对拉里和拉尔夫的每一项指控他们都有权利反驳……但是这并不影响最终结果。 现在他又继续说：“这一群人要为在印第安斯普林斯基地发生的直升机爆炸案负责，还要为由此而引起的卡尔·霍夫、比尔·贾米森和克利夫·本森的死负责。他们犯有杀人罪。” 拉里注意到人群中前排的一个人的眼神。尽管拉里不知道他是谁，这个人叫斯坦贝利，他是印第安斯普林斯基地的业务主管。拉里注意到他的脸上充满了吃惊的神情，嘴张得大大的。 “这一群人向我们中间派遣间谍，他们已经被消灭了。这些人应该以一种合适的方式被处死，他们应该被分尸。你们每一个人有责任和义务来目睹这一惩罚，这样你们就可以告诉其他今天没有来的人。” 弗拉格试图笑得更热情一些，但他的脸上只有鲨鱼般的微笑，见不到一点点热情和人性。 “带小孩的可以除外。” 他又转向了汽车，汽车都已经发动，在早晨冒出一股烟。这时，人群前排发生一阵骚乱。突然，一个人冲了出来。他是一个大个子，他的脸色像他的厨师衣服一样白。 黑衣人刚刚把那张纸交给劳埃德，当惠特尼·霍根冲出来的时候，劳埃德的手神经质地扯了一下。那张纸被撕成了两半，声音十分清晰。 “嘿，大家伙！”惠特尼喊道。 人群中窃窃私语，有些混乱。惠特尼全身晃来晃去，仿佛得了瘫痪。他的头朝黑衣人摆来摆去。弗拉格恶狠狠地看着惠特尼。多根朝厨师走去，弗拉格示意让他停下。 “这不正确！”惠特尼叫嚷着。“你知道这不应该！” 人群中鸦雀无声。他们可能都变成了坟场的石头。 惠特尼的喉咙痉挛性地抽动。他的喉结一上一下，仿佛是树枝上的猴子。 “我们曾是美国人！”惠特尼最后说，“这不是美国人的所作所为。我不赞同，虽然我只是一个厨师，但是我要告诉你们，这决不是美国人的所作所为……” 在这些拉斯维加斯新居民中间出现一阵嘈杂。拉里和拉尔夫互相疑惑地看了看。 “就是这么回事！”惠特尼坚持说。汗水像泪水一样从他的脸上流。 “你们想看到这两个人在你们面前被分成两半，嗯？你们认为这是开始新生活的方法吗？你们认为这样的事情能是正确的吗？我告诉你们这会一辈子作噩梦的！” 人群中低声表示赞同。 “我们必须阻止这件事情，”惠特尼说，“你们知道吗？我们必须拿时间来思考什么……什么……” “惠特尼。”这声音像丝绸一样光滑，只比耳语稍大一点，但是足以让厨师闭嘴。厨师转向弗拉格，他的嘴唇无声地动，眼睛像是鲭鱼的眼睛。现在他是汗如雨下。 “惠特尼，你应该保持安静。”他的声音很柔软，但是仍能传到每一个人的耳中。“我本来应该让你走的……我为什么需要你呢？” 惠特尼的嘴唇在动，但是仍旧没有发出声音。 “到这里来，惠特尼。” “不，”惠特尼小声说，但是除了劳埃德、拉尔夫、拉里或者可能有巴里·多根以外没有人听见他的异议。惠特尼的腿不自觉地移动，仿佛他没有表示异议。他像一个幽灵一样朝黑衣人走去。 人群中非常安静，人们睁大了眼睛。 “我知道你的计划，”黑衣人说，“你一出来我就知道你要做什么。本来我应该让你滚开，我不叫你回来你不允许回来。可能是1年，也可能是10年。但是这都对你来讲没有用了，惠特尼。信不信。” 惠特尼最终说出话来，他喊了出来。“你根本就不是人！你是……魔鬼！” 弗拉格伸出左手的食指，几乎就要碰到惠特尼的脸颊。 “是的，你说的对，”他的声音很轻，只有劳埃德和拉里·安德伍德听见了。 "I'm." 一个像乒乓球大小的蓝色火球从弗拉格的指尖弹出，发出微弱的裂纹声。 秋天的风似乎在叹息，人们在旁边观看。 惠特尼惨叫——但是没有移动。火球烧着了他的下巴。空气中弥漫着烧焦的皮肤的味道。火球移到了他的嘴，嘴烧烂了，甚至叫不出来了。它又移到了脸颊，立刻烧出一道坑。 眼睛也烧着了。 火球在他的前额停了一下，拉里听见拉尔夫一遍遍地说同一句话，他也加入其中：“我不惧怕任何邪恶……我不惧怕任何邪恶……我不惧怕任何邪恶……” 火球卷过了惠特尼的前额，头发也烧焦了。头发都卷到了后面，前面留下一道奇形怪状的沟。惠特尼晃了晃，然后脸朝下倒了下去。 人群中发出长时间的声音：啊……这像是在7月4日焰火表演上人们发出的声音。蓝色的火球在空中变得越来越大，越来越亮，要眯着眼才能看。黑衣人指着它朝人群移动。前排的人——白脸的詹尼·恩斯顿也在其中——向后退。 弗拉格以响亮的声音向人群挑衅说，“还有谁不同意我的判决？如果有的话，现在可以站出来说！” There was silence. 弗拉格看来很满意。“那么就……” 突然人们开始转身离开。人群中一开始是吃惊的耳语，然后是叽叽喳喳的声音。弗拉格看起来非常吃惊。现在人群中开始叫喊，虽然现在还没有办法听清楚人们说了些什么，但能知道这是吃惊的语气。火球漫无目的地乱跳。 突然拉里听到有发动机的声音。他又听到人们模糊不清的声音，总是不很连贯：人……垃圾虫…… 有人穿过人群走来，仿佛是接受黑衣人的挑衅。 弗拉格开始感觉到恐惧。这是一种不知根底的恐惧。他什么都预料到了，甚至惠特尼愚蠢的讲话。他什么都预料到了，除了这个以外。人群——他的人群正在离开，四散分开。人群中有尖厉、清晰、冰冷的喊叫声。有人跑开了。又有人跑开了。然后，本来已经处在一触即发状态的人群都惊跑了。 “保持镇静！”弗拉格声嘶力竭地喊，但是毫无用处。人群已经像风一样飘忽不定，即使黑衣人也不能把风停住。他越来越愤怒，夹杂着恐惧和其他一些不稳定的因素。一切都搞糟了。在最后的时刻搞糟了，就像额尔根的那个老律师一样，那个女人被窗户玻璃割开喉咙……还有纳迪娜……纳迪娜摔了下去…… 他们朝四面八方逃走，站在草地四周，穿过大街。他们见到了最后来的这个人，仿佛是从一个恐怖故事中出来的角色。他们见到了那张红赭色的脸。 而且他们见到了他带回来的东西。 兰德尔·弗拉格，还有拉里、拉尔夫和吓傻了的劳埃德·亨赖德，他还在手里端着那张撕毁了的纸。 是唐纳德·默温·埃尔贝特，现在叫做垃圾虫。 他在一个肮脏的加长电动车车轮后面。电动车的电池就快用完了。电动车嗡嗡作响，上下振动。垃圾虫在坐椅上来回跳动仿佛是一个木偶。 他现在处于辐射病的最后阶段，头发已经脱落，露在衣服外的胳膊已经红肿。他的脸坑坑洼洼，一双蓝眼睛显出可怕、可怜的神情。牙齿脱落了，指甲也没有了，眼皮虚肿。 他看起来仿佛是刚刚开着电动车从黑暗燃烧的地狱之口中出来。 弗拉格看着他走来，站住。他的微笑消失了。他脸上的颜色也消失了。他的脸突然变成了透明玻璃做的窗户。 垃圾虫的声音非常激动：“我带来了……我带给你火……请……对不起……” 劳埃德在移动。他向前走了一步，又走了一步。“垃圾虫……垃圾虫，孩子……”他的声音