按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃DIRT！〃 Annie cried triumphantly。
He looked over his shoulder。 Her face was turning slowly purple； and seemed to be swelling。 He realized she actually was turning into the Bourkas〃 idol。
He yanked with all his might and his leg slithered footlessly out of her grasp； leaving her with nothing but the circlet of leather with which she had capped the stump。
He crawled on； beginning to cry； sweat pouring down his cheeks。 He pulled himself along on his elbows like a soldier advancing beneath heavy machine…gun fire。 He heard the thud of first one knee from behind him； then the other； then the first again。 She was still ing。 She was as solid as he had always feared。 He had burned her broken her back stuffed her tubes full of paper and still still still she was ing。
〃BIRT！〃 Annie screamed now。 〃DIRT 。 。 。 BIRT！〃 One of his elbows came down on a hook of glass and it jabbed up into his arm。 He crawled forward anyway with it sticking out of him like a push…pin。
Her hand closed over his left calf。
AW！ GAW 。 。 。 OOO OW 。 。 。 AW！〃 He turned back again and yes； her face had gone black； a dusky rotted…plum black from which her bleeding eyes bulged wildly。 Her pulsing throat had swelled up like an inner…tube； and her mouth was writhing。 She was； he realized； trying to grin。
The door was just in reach。 Paul stretched out and laid hold of the jamb in a death grip。
〃GAW 。 。 。 OOO 。 。 。 OW！〃 Her right hand on his right thigh。
Thud。 One knee。 Thud。 The other。
Closer。 Her shadow。 Her shadow falling over him。
〃No； he whimpered。 He felt her tugging； pulling。 He held onto the jamb grimly； eyes now squeezed shut。
〃GAW 。 。 。 OOO 。 。 。 AW！〃 Over him。 Thunder。 Goddess…thunder。
Now her hands scuttled up his back like spiders and settled upon his neck。
〃GAW 。 。 。 OOO 。 。 。 DIRT 。 。 。 BIRT！〃 His air was gone。 He held the jamb。 He held the jamb and felt her over him felt her hands sinking into his neck and he screamed Die can't you die can't you ever die can't you … 〃GA W 。 。 。 G … 〃 The pressure slackened。 For a moment he could breathe again。 Then Annie collapsed on top of him； a mountain of slack flesh； and he couldn't breathe at all。
45
He worked his way out from under her like a man burrowing his way out of a snowshde。 He did it with the last of his strength。
He crawled through the door； expecting her hand to settle around his ankle again at any moment； but that did not happen。 Annie lay silent and face…down in blood and spilled champagne and fragments of green glass。 Was she dead？ She must be dead。 Paul did not believe she was dead。
He slammed the door shut。 The bolt she had put on looked like something halfway up a high cliff； but he clawed his way up to it； shot it； and then collapsed in a shuddery huddle at the door's foot。
He lay in a stupor for some unknown length of time。 What roused him from it was a low； minute scratching sound。 The rats； he thought。 It's the r… Then Annie's thick； blood…grimed fingers poked under the door and tugged mindlessly at his shirt。
He shrieked and jerked away from them； his left leg creaking with pain。 He hammered at the fingers with his fist。 Instead of pulling back； they jerked a little and lay still。
Let that be the end of her。 Please God let that be the end or her。
In horrible pain now； Paul began to crawl slowly toward the bathroom。 He got halfway there and looked back。 Her fingers were still poking out from under the door。 As bad as his pain was； he could not stand to look at that； or even think of that； and so he reversed direction； went back； and pushed them under。 He had to nerve himself to do it； he was certain that the moment he touched them； they would clutch him。
He finally reached the bathroom； every part of him throbbing。 He pulled himself inside and shut the door。
God； what if she's moved the dope？
But she hadn't。 The untidy litter of boxes was still there； including the ones containing the sample packets of Novril。 He took three dry； then crawled back to the door and lay down against it； blocking it with the weight of his body。
Paul slept。
46
When he woke up it was dark； and at first he didn't know where he was … how had his bedroom gotten so small？ Then he remembered everything； and with his remembering a queer certainty came： she was not dead； even now not dead。 She was standing right outside this door； she had the axe； and when he crawled out she would amputate his head。 It would go rolling off down the hallway like a bowling ball while she laughed。
That is crazy； he told himself； and then he heard thought he did … a little rustling sound； the sound of a woman's starched skirt； perhaps； brushing lightly against the wall。
You just made it up。 Your imagination 。 。 。 ii's so vivid。
I didn't。 I heard it。
He hadn't。 He knew that。 His hand reached for the door knob； then fell uncertainly back。 Yes； he knew he had heard nothing 。 。 。 but what if he had？
She could have gone out the window。
Paul； she's DEAD！
The return； implacable in its illogic： The goddess never dies。
He realized he was frantically biting his lips and made himself stop it。 Was this what going crazy was like？ Yes。 He was close to that； and who had a better right？ But if he gave in to it； if the cops finally returned tomorrow or the day after to find Annie dead in the guest…room and a blubbering ball of protoplasm in the downstairs bathroom； a blubbering ball of protoplasm who had once been a writer named Paul Sheldon； wouldn't that be Annie's victory？
You bet。 And now； Paulie； you're going to be a good little Do…Bee and follow the scenario。 Right？
Okay。
His hand reached for the knob again 。 。 。 and faltered again。 He couldn't follow the original scenario。 In it he had seen himself lighting the paper and her picking it up； and that had happened。 Only he was to have bashed her brains in with the fucking typewriter instead of hitting her in the back with it。 Then he had meant to work his way out into the parlor and light the house on fire。 The scenario had called for him to effect his escape through one of the parlor windows。 He would take a hell of a thump； but he had already seen how fastidious Annie was about locking her doors。 Better thumped than crisped； as he believed John the Baptist had once said。
In a book； all would have gone according to plan 。 。 。 but life was so fucking untidy … what could you say for an existence where some of the most crucial conversations of your life took place when you needed to take a shit； or something？ An existence where there weren't even any chapters？
〃Very untidy；〃 Paul croaked。 〃Good thing there's guys like me； just to keep things rinsed。〃 He cackled。
The champagne bottle hadn't been in the scenario； but that was minor pared with the woman's hideous vitality and his current painful uncertainty。
And until he knew whether or not she was dead； he couldn't burn the house down； making a beacon that would bring help on the run。 Not because Annie might still be alive； he could roast her alive with no qualms at all。
It wasn't Annie that was holding him back； it was the manuscript。 The real manuscript。 What he had burned had been nothing more than an illusion wit