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《玛瑙街》

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Scribbled in lipstick across the truck’s windshield: imdugud lives! Who’d written this note? The creepy Professor? Some unknown party watching them at that very moment? 用口红潦草地涂在卡车挡风玻璃上：依姆杜古德永生！这字条是谁写的？是那个诡异的教授？还是此刻正暗中窥视她们的未知存在？

“Kid, you’re making me nervous.” Casey smeared the lipstick with a rag she pulled from under the driver’s seat. She referred to her sister as “kid” despite being a mere two years the elder and both of them fast approaching middle age. “That scene in the gym was kinda freaky, sure. But c’mon. Get your shit together. No reason to dwell.” She drove with her forearm atop the wheel, waiting in vain for Tara to speak. “Okay, okay. Tell you what. Let’s grab a bite, courtesy of Superintendent Moneybags.” She navigated a warren of potholed streets into real civilization where shop lights blinked on as a counterbalance to the sunset. They settled for The Drifter, a dive with a sputtering vertical marquee on the edge of a district of warehouses and shuttered factories. Burgers were cheap and so was the tap beer. The booth afforded a view of the bar and the entrance where traffic thickened: surly blue-collar men, paychecks in their pockets, and women; many in ripped jeans, biker leather, or bleached flannel. Casey sipped a brew and watched guys in denim jackets shoot pool. “It’s a bad gig. I admit it. Wanna bail? Fine. I’ll call Malcom, tell her the score, and that’s the end.” “小家伙，你搞得我很紧张。”凯西用从驾驶座底下抽出的破布抹掉口红印。尽管她只比妹妹大两岁且两人都快步入中年，她还是管塔拉叫小家伙。“体育馆里那幕确实有点邪门，但得了吧。振作点，没必要一直琢磨。”她单手搭着方向盘开车，徒劳地等塔拉开口。“好了好了。这样吧。咱们去吃顿好的，反正警监大人买单。”她驾车穿过一块坑洼街道，驶入真正的文明世界：商店灯火陆续亮起，与落日分庭抗礼。她们最终选了“漂泊者”，一家位于仓库区和废弃工厂边缘的破酒吧，招牌竖式灯箱滋滋闪烁。汉堡便宜，生啤也是。卡座正对酒吧入口，人流渐密：揣着工资卡的蓝领汉子绷着脸，女人们大多穿着破洞牛仔裤、机车皮衣或漂白法兰绒。凯西啜饮啤酒，看着几个穿牛仔外套的男人打台球。“这活儿确实糟心。我认了。想撤？行。我这就给马尔科姆打电话摊牌，到此为止。”

“Kiss the apartment goodbye.” Tara spoke at last. She tilted her second, mostly empty bottle, sending a ray of lamplight tracing across the table. “Rent’s past due. We’ll be squatting in a tent. Or go slinking to Mom’s basement again.” “那就跟公寓说再见吧。”塔拉终于开口。她倾斜着几乎见底的第二瓶啤酒，让一束灯光在桌面上划出轨迹。“房租已经逾期。我们得去住帐篷，或者又灰溜溜躲回老妈的地下室。”

“Small loss. Shitty apartment.” “小损失。破公寓。”

“A shitty apartment beats bunking in a shitty truck.” “破公寓总比睡破卡车强。”

“You could shack up with your girlfriend. She dated a drummer, didn’t she? Which means she’s used to paying all the bills.” Casey waited for a laugh that wasn’t happening. “I’m trying to make lemonade outta these lemons. Cut me some slack.” “你可以搬去跟你女友住。她不是跟鼓手约会过吗？说明她早习惯包揽所有账单了。”凯西等着听笑声，却只等来沉默。“我正试着把烂牌打好，给点面子行不行。”

“We’re out of our depth.” Tara rotated the bottle so its prism rainbow illuminated Casey’s forehead. “I was never fond of this town, but didn’t feel like anything was wrong. Now? I don’t recognize the place. Talking to Malcom, touring South End, hit me exactly the same as those nightmares I used to have as a kid.” “我们搞不定这局面。”塔拉转动酒瓶，棱镜折射的虹光在凯西额头上游移。“我从来不喜欢这个镇子，但至少没觉得哪儿不对劲。现在呢？我几乎认不出这里了。跟马尔科姆谈话、巡视南区，感觉就像我小时候那些噩梦重现。”

“The night terrors. Frozen stiff and whatnot?” “夜间的噩梦。动弹不得之类的？”

“I’m in the water and the current drags me farther out to sea no matter how hard I kick. Got that feeling right now. Except I’m awake.” “我在水里，无论怎么踢，水流都把我拖向更远的海域。我现在就有这种感觉。只是我醒着。”

“A pile of tires really has you shook?” Casey said. “Huge pile, granted.” “一堆轮胎真的让你这么害怕？”凯西说。“好吧，确实是一大堆。”

“More than a pile of tires. There was intent. Ill will.” “不止一堆轮胎。那有意图。恶意。”

“Ill will?” “恶意？”

“That tall, gruesome professor lady and her kids . . . Bad vibes. Missing pets. Missing persons. Haven’t even made it to the estate.” “那个又高又吓人的女教授和她那群孩子...感觉不对。宠物失踪。人也失踪。我们连庄园都还没去呢。”

“Please don’t tell me you think there’s still hyenas prowling the Urach grounds, or crocs, or what-the-fuck-ever else the kook kept behind those gates.” “别告诉我你真以为乌拉克庄园里还有鬣狗在游荡，或是鳄鱼，或是那疯子养在铁门后的什么鬼东西。”

“Pythons, tigers, condors, apes, big cats.” Tara ticked them off her grimy fingers. “Nah. Everything is dead.” “蟒蛇、老虎、秃鹫、猿猴、大型猫科动物。”塔拉掰着脏兮兮的手指细数，“不。那些早死绝了。”

“Damned right. Twenty state boys with semiautos conducted a massacre on the taxpayers’ dime. The jerks planted spring-loaded cyanide traps to kill any survivors. Realistically, those traps could be what happened to the neighborhood pets. Same way old battlefield land mines detonate decades later when a kid stumbles across one.” “千真万确。二十个配半自动步枪的州警花着纳税人的钱搞了大屠杀。这些混蛋还设置了弹簧加载的氰化物陷阱，清除漏网之鱼。说真的，街区宠物失踪很可能就是这些玩意儿造的孽。就像战场上遗留的地雷，几十年后还能把路过的小孩炸上天。”

“True.” “确实。”

“What’s the problem, then?” Casey said. “那问题出在哪里？”凯西问道。

“Back in the day, I hung out with Urach. Whenever our crew rolled in to do the yardwork, Agnes invited us up to the house for lemonade and gin—” “当年我和乌拉克有交情。每次我们团队去打理庭院，艾格尼丝都会请我们进屋喝柠檬水掺金酒——”

“Agnes had a thing for you?” “艾格尼丝对你有意思？”

Tara ignored the bait. “Nobody else dared accept. The guys were scared to death of the property. No matter that the critters were enclosed on a preserve on the mansion’s back forty. Our foreman agreed to do the front lawns and the hedges and not a step further. I went inside, though. Politely sipped gin and lemonade tonics and nodded while Agnes rambled about her expeditions. Heard lions bellowing from the parlor.” 塔拉没接茬。“其他人可不敢去。那帮家伙怕那庄园怕得要死。尽管那些动物都被关在豪宅后方四十英亩的保护区里。我们工头只答应修剪前院草坪和树篱，多一步都不肯走。但我进去了。礼貌地小口喝着金酒柠檬调饮，听艾格尼丝絮叨她的探险故事时不住点头。在客厅里都能听见狮吼。”

“Of course, you kissed her ass.” Casey teetered on the edge of drunken belligerence. “你当然跪舔她了。”凯西醉醺醺地挑衅道，在好斗边缘摇摇欲坠。

“Meaning?” “意思是？”

“Meaning you hoped the old broad would . . . adopt you.” She watched Tara abruptly unfold from her seat. “Whoa, dude. Don’t be mad.” Hurriedly as a woman casting a lifeline into the sea, she said, “Hey, I never knew any of this. You didn’t say anything.” “意思是你巴不得那老太婆...收养你。”她看着塔拉猛地从座位上弹起来。“哇，别急眼啊。”凯西急忙找补，像往海里扔救生索的女人般说道：“喂，这些我可从不知道。你当年压根没提过。”

“You were a bitch to me over the gig is why I never said.” “就因为你当时对这活儿冷嘲热讽，我才懒得说。”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Jeez. What was it like inside the house?” “好吧，我道歉。见鬼。房子里面是什么样子？”

Tara hesitated. “Like a museum. But dirtier. Stuffed wolves and a polar bear reared on its hind legs behind glass. Intact skeletons of rare critters from Asia and Africa. Prehistoric ones, too.” 塔拉顿了顿，“像个博物馆。但更脏。玻璃后面有狼标本和用后腿站立的北极熊。来自亚州和非州的珍稀动物完整骨架，还有史前的。”

“Dinosaurs, huh?” Casey owned dino models as a little kid. She’d loved T-Rexes and the flying reptiles—pterodactyls. “恐龙啊？”凯西小时候就收藏恐龙模型。她喜欢霸王龙和会飞的爬行动物——翼龙。

“Gotta shake hands with the governor.” Tara walked toward the rear of the bar. A bulletin board hung crookedly, papered with fliers and notes beseeching the return of lost pets. She stepped into the women’s room. The floor tilted sharply into a chasm like the aftermath of a bombing. The sinks and much of the wall had fallen away. Fluorescent lights were too feeble to illuminate what might lie below. Rank updrafts stirred her hair, carrying distant subterranean rumblings. She loosened her belt, squatted, and shot a stream of piss into the abyss. “得去跟州长握个手。”塔拉朝酒吧后方走去。公告板歪挂着，上面贴满了传单和便条，恳求找回丢失的宠物。她跨进女厕，地板陡峭地塌陷成深坑，宛如轰炸后的废墟。洗手池和大部分墙壁都坍塌了。荧光灯昏暗得照不清底下有什么。恶臭的上升气流搅动她的发丝，裹挟着遥远的地底轰鸣。她解开腰带蹲下，朝深渊撒了泡尿。

Long walk back to the table. A fluorescent lamp blew with a sizzling pop. Tara moved blindly in sudden darkness, occasionally shoulder-bumping a slick rock cave wall, then she emerged into the dim light of the taproom. She asked if Casey wanted to drive home or spring for a motel. They opted to spend the last of Superintendent Malcom’s advance on a double at the Erinyes Motor Inn. The motel was an L of brown, dilapidated units on a lot near more jungle. A mangy deer lapped at a puddle. They got what they paid for, and less. Analogue-era television and a rotary phone. Curiously, both worked fine, although the TV received exclusively foreign stations. Soiled carpet. The dresser-issue bible was also printed in a foreign language—cover embossed with a gilt pyramid foregrounded over a black hemisphere. Lots of sticky fingerprints inside. Mold on the bathroom wall was thick enough to draw stick figures. Someone had done so and added bleed for the thunderbird. Tara read this doggerel while showering. 摸黑回座的路很长。一盏荧光灯发出滋滋的爆响熄灭了。塔拉在骤降的黑暗中盲目挪步，肩膀不时撞上光滑的岩石洞壁，终于挣扎回酒吧昏暗的光线中。她问凯西想开车回家还是住汽车旅馆。她们决定把马尔科姆警监预付金的最后一点砸在厄里倪厄斯汽车旅馆的双人间。旅馆是片棕色的L形破旧单元，紧挨着更茂密的丛林。一只癞皮鹿在积水坑舔水。一分钱半分货。老式显像管电视和转盘电话。诡异的是这两样居然都好使，虽然电视只能收外国台。地毯污渍斑斑。抽屉里的圣经也是外文版——封面烫金金字塔凸起于黑色半球之上。里面布满了黏糊糊的指纹。浴室墙上的霉菌厚得能画简笔画。确实有人这么干了，还给雷鸟加了流血效果。塔拉冲澡时读到了这首打油诗。

（译者注：厄里倪厄斯就是复仇三女神，“不安”，“忌恨”，“报复”。）

In the wasteland hours after midnight, she lay awake, fully dressed, hands clasped behind her neck. The muted television cast illuminated shadows across the ceiling. She’d quit watching a nature documentary shot in some cold desert when it got to the part where a buzzard ripped into a pile of meat and fur. 午夜过后的荒芜时刻，她睁眼躺着，和衣未眠，双手交叠枕在脑后。静音的电视机在天花板上投下变幻的光影。先前播放的是一部拍摄于某处寒冷沙漠的自然纪录片，当镜头转到秃鹫撕扯一堆血肉与毛皮的画面时，她关掉了它。

Casey said, “‘She rises up and opens her jaws.’” Her cigarette smoke drifted across the room. “A mite flowery, sis. Some reason you put it that way?” No close relative of either woman was well-read, much less a poet. Jeffers and Trampier folk thought simply and spoke directly. 凯西说道：“‘她崛起并张开了嘴’。”烟味在房间里弥散。“有点文绉绉啊，老妹。你为什么要这么说？”她们俩的近亲里没一个受过良好教育，更别说诗人了。杰弗斯家和特兰皮尔家的人思想简单，说话直率。

“South End got under my skin,” Tara said. “Put me in a rare temper. Better question: Malcom has her pick of hard-luck cases. Why call on us?” “南区让我浑身不自在，”塔拉说。“搞得我反常地烦躁。更好的问题是：马尔科姆有各种倒霉蛋供她挑选。为什么找我们？”

“She hates us is why us.” “她讨厌我们，所以是我们。”

“The dope? We hosed her, but it was a small deal.” “因为那批货？我们是坑过她，但就那点小买卖。”

“Major trespasses imply honor,” Casey said. “Respect. To a woman like her, petty slights are unforgivable. Problem is, she’s desperate. The superintendent gig sounds cursed. Everybody wants the pay raise until they realize it comes with a shiv in the back. We’re her patsies. Easier to blame us than somebody’s nephew or golfing pal if this turns into one of those unsolvable mysteries.” “大错反而体面，”凯西说，“值得尊重。对她那种人来说，小过节才最记仇。问题是她现在走投无路了。警监这差事听着就邪门。谁都想要加薪，等发现要挨黑刀才后悔。我们就是替罪羊。要是这破事变成无头悬案，找我们顶缸总比找谁的侄子或高尔夫球友方便。”

Tara thought it might actually be a case of local government workers demonstrating good instincts to avoid South End. She said, “Nobody really knows what went down at the Urach estate in the days before the shooting started. The whole town simply accepted the bloodbath and moved on. Malcom is the same as the rest. If the past wasn’t biting her ass, she wouldn’t care.” 塔拉心想，这说不定反倒是本地公务员的生存智慧，懂得躲开南区。她说：“根本没人知道乌拉克庄园在枪响前究竟发生了什么。全镇人不过是接受了那场屠杀，然后继续过日子。马尔科姆和他们没两样。要不是烂账找上门，她才懒得管。”

“Bad shit happens and the world keeps turning. Shut up and go to sleep.” Casey snored moments later. Tara closed her eyes. Gravity reversed and she fell through the ceiling. Sulfurous gusts whipped her face. A plain of bones stretched until it merged with a crimson sunset. The golden eagle circled. A zebra galloped past, blood streaming from its side while state troopers watched through rifle scopes. The sun blackened in flames that glared bloodily atop a heap of carved volcanic blocks. The blocks warped as a hole ate into them. Gore-soaked talons reached forth from inner darkness, scrabbling desperately— “坏事照发，地球照转。闭嘴睡觉。”凯西转眼就打起呼噜。塔拉合上眼。重力突然倒转，她穿过天花板坠落。硫磺味的狂风抽打脸颊。一片白骨平原延伸至猩红落日处。金鹰盘旋着。一匹斑马飞奔而过，鲜血从侧面流淌，州警们透过步枪瞄准镜注视着这一切。太阳在火焰中变黑，火焰在雕刻的火山块堆上血淋淋地闪耀。这些石块扭曲着，一个洞正啃噬着它们。从内层黑暗中伸出的沾满血污的爪子，绝望地抓挠着——

She opened her eyes lest she be trapped forever. “Pyramid” was the wrong word for the altar in the gym. She wracked her brain for the right one; found it in fragmentary recollections of junior high history class and textbook artists’ fantastical renditions of Sumer, Mexico, and Babylon. “A ziggurat. It’s a ziggurat.” This wasn’t quite right either. She lacked the vocabulary to winnow definitions any further. The ceiling shimmered redly to mirror her visons of ritual sacrifice and heat-black night. She raised herself on her elbows to regard the TV. Her nightmare was playing. 她猛然睁眼，生怕永远困在梦中。“金字塔”不足以形容体育馆里那座祭坛。她绞尽脑汁搜寻更准确的词，从初中历史课的零碎记忆和教科书里苏美尔、墨西哥、巴比伦的幻想插图中找到了答案。“是塔庙。那是座塔庙。”但这描述仍不准确。她的词汇量已无法进一步精确界定。天花板泛着暗红微光，倒映着她那些关于活祭与灼热黑夜的幻象。她用胳膊肘撑起身子看向电视。她的噩梦正在屏幕上播放。

In the morning, Casey bought coffee at a convenience store. “Called Mal. Told her it’s off.” 清晨，凯西在便利店买了咖啡：“给马尔科姆打过电话。推了。”

“Oh?” Tara winced in the throes of a hangover. “哦？”塔拉在宿醉的折磨中皱起了眉头。

“The bluff worked. She asked for our bottom line. I said five hundred per day, plus expenses. Bitch didn’t bat an eyelash. Said get to hunting.” “虚张声势奏效了。她要我们开底价。我说每天五百美元外加报销。那娘们眼都没眨就说：开工吧。”

The coffee scalded Tara’s tongue, numbing her to its wretchedness. “I don’t want to shoot dogs.” 咖啡烫麻了塔拉的舌头，反倒掩盖了劣质口感。“我不想射杀狗。”

“Dogs aren’t shy. Especially a pack gone feral. If it was dogs, they’d be obvious. Or we’d have seen turds lying around. My money is on a pack of coyotes.” “狗不害羞。尤其是野生的狗群。如果是狗，它们会很明显。或者我们会看到周围有狗屎。我赌的是一窝郊狼。”

“Rather not shoot coyotes either,” Tara said. “也不想去射杀郊狼。”塔拉说。

“You spot. I’ll shoot. Need to find a likely position for a blind. Wait for dark and see what critters come to play.” “你盯梢，我开枪。得找个隐蔽的地方设伏。等天黑看什么活物来蹦跶。”

They took the scenic route into the heart of town and out the other side. Tara paid more heed today, noting again an invisible threshold that marked a rapid decline of civilization. The transition into wilderness occurred within the space of half a mile. Casey piloted through the same disorienting tunnel and parked in the same lot as the day previous. She leaned against the truck and lit a cigarette. Her eyes narrowed. Warier by the minute, whether she cared to admit it or not. “It’s a decent hike. Might surprise something if we’re quiet.” She slung the Winchester on its shoulder strap. “Man alive. The size of those trees. Taller since yesterday?” 她们沿着风景优美的路线驶入镇中心，又从另一头穿出。塔拉今天格外留心，再次注意到那条标示文明急速衰退的无形界限。不过半英里距离，荒野便吞噬了城镇。凯西驾车穿过同样令人晕头转向的隧道，将车停和前一天一样的停车场。她斜倚在皮卡车上点燃香烟，她的眼睛眯了起来。每分钟都变得更加警惕，无论她是否愿意承认。“这趟徒步旅行还不错。要是动静小点，说不定能撞见些惊喜。”她将温彻斯特步枪甩到肩头，“老天爷，这些树有多大。比昨天更高了？”

Tara belted on a machete and hung a set of binoculars from her neck. She carried a jug of water. Light dribbled through where the sun pulsed against the canopy vault. The sisters walked in blue shade across Agate, southbound. On their left, a concrete retaining wall buttressed a steep hill. They sidestepped juniper bushes that cascaded into the street proper. Agate curved and at last brought them to a cul-de-sac and a corroded iron gate flung wide. A shattered private drive passed into a tunnel of trees. Tara entered first, hacking at vines. Spiderwebs hung in sheets. She hacked those, too. The occasional dead and withered branch or vine indicated others had also chopped a path in from the street. Vegetation regenerated quickly here in the humid dimness. Thorns clawed them, ripping their clothes. “I think we should turn back,” Tara said during a brief rest. She noticed that the greenery appeared thick and whole behind them. A closed passage. No permanent trails were possible; the riot of nature was all-powerful here. 塔拉系好砍刀，将一副双筒望远镜挂在脖子上，手里拎着水壶。阳光在树冠穹顶间搏动，漏下零星光斑。姐妹俩踏着幽蓝的树影沿玛瑙街南行。左侧，一道混凝土挡土墙支撑着陡峭山坡。她们侧身避开倾泻到街面的刺柏丛。玛瑙街蜿蜒曲折，最终将她们带到一个死胡同，锈迹斑斑的铁门大敞着。破碎的私家车道通向树木拱成的隧道，塔拉第一个走进去，挥刀斩断藤蔓。蛛网如帷幕垂挂，也被她一并劈开。偶尔有枯萎的树枝或藤蔓，表明其他人也从街道这边砍出了一条路。但在这潮湿幽暗处，植被再生得很快。荆棘撕扯着她们的衣物。“我觉得我们应该回头。”塔拉在短暂休息时说。她发现身后的绿障已恢复得密不透风，来路如同闭合的通道。不可能有永久的小径；狂野的自然才是绝对的主宰。

“Too late.” Casey drank from the water jug. “Almost there. Just another thousand years.” “太晚了。”凯西从水壶里喝水。“快到了，再过一千年就到了。”

Argument would be futile. Protest registered, Tara sucked it up and swung the machete. Forward, a foot gained with every metronomic slash. She thought of Livingston and Pizarro and how the wilderness devours everything, given opportunity. Sweating and breathing heavily, the pair eventually broke out onto the estate grounds. Saw grass and ragweed desolated acres of formerly manicured lawns. Wooden pylons stood at intervals among fading stalks of pink and white foxglove and clinging orchids. The chest-high pylons were wired together from sticks, planks, and slats, resembling miniature, stripped versions of the gymnasium ziggurat. A hodgepodge of prisms and busted mirrors were affixed to each peak. Some were merely weathered; others were fossilized. Banyan and cypress trees had rooted where the ground softened into marsh. Neither species occurred this far north. Whatever phenomenon had claimed the neighborhood and was, by all evidence, spiraling outward to reconfigure larger sectors of town, may have begun right here on this piece of property. Apple-green sky. Stars lay hidden beyond the veil, yet Tara couldn’t dispel the notion that constellations hung out of plumb. Stars one would see from the shores of an alien world or this world millions of years ago. She didn’t recognize the lusher, brighter flowers. How could tropical plants flourish in temperate upstate New York? Vertigo tipped her gorge into her throat at sweet fragrances mingling with a miasma of rot. She flashed to the previous evening and her vision of a replica of the ancient universe. Dinosaurs could easily lie in wait in this jungle. Or protohumans wielding flint-head spears. Or modern cultists who’d erected primitive monuments to primitive deities. 争论是徒劳的。抗议被记录在案，塔拉忍了下来，挥动砍刀。向前，每一次像节拍器一样的劈砍都前进一步。她想到了利文斯顿和皮萨罗，想到只要稍有机会，荒野如何会吞噬一切。两人汗流浃背、气喘吁吁，最终闯到了庄园的地面上。锯齿草和豚草荒废了数英亩曾经修剪整齐的草坪。木桩间隔地立在凋谢的粉白毛地黄和附生的兰花丛中。这些齐胸高的木桩是用木棍、木板和板条绑在一起做成的，像体育馆那座金字塔庙的缩小、剥光版。每个桩顶都固定着棱镜和破碎镜子的混合物。有些只是风化；有些则已经石化。榕树和柏树扎根在软化变成沼泽的地面上。这两种树都不该出现在这么靠北的地方。无论是什么现象占据了这片社区——并且所有证据表明它正在螺旋式向外扩张，重塑城镇更大的区域——都可能就是在这片地产上开始的。苹果绿的天空。星星隐藏在面纱之外，但塔拉无法摆脱一种感觉：星座悬挂得歪斜了。像是人会在外星海岸或数百万年前的地球上看到的星星。她不认识那些更茂盛、更鲜艳的花。热带植物怎么可能在温带的纽约州北部繁茂生长？甜香与腐败的瘴气混合，眩晕使她的恶心涌到了喉咙。她突然想起昨晚和她看到的那个古老宇宙的复制景象。恐龙可以轻易地潜伏在这个丛林中。或者挥舞燧石矛头的原始人类。或者建造原始纪念碑来崇拜原始神灵的现代邪教徒。

“Goddamn.” Casey turned over a picked dog skull and pushed two fingers through a hole punched into its dome. Disgusted, she chucked it aside and held the rifle against her hip. More bones lay scattered among the grass. Skulls and spines, loose femurs, a few smaller pieces. “Five to one we’ll turn up poor ol’ Widdershins the blue-ribbon goat’s earthly remains any minute now. I’m gonna head toward the house. Wait here.” She gestured toward a lone, charred gable thrust up from the brush. “该死的。”凯西翻过一个被啃光的狗头骨，两根手指插进它头盖骨上的破洞。她厌恶地把它扔到一边，把步枪抵在髋部。更多骨头散落在草丛中。头骨、脊椎、散落的股骨，还有些小碎片。“五比一的赔率，咱们随时会挖出可怜的老维德辛斯，那只蓝丝带山羊的残骸。我要去房子那边。你等着。”她指向灌木丛中孤零零耸起的烧焦的山墙。

“I should stick with you,” Tara said. An unpleasant inkling had visited her in the night. She’d based her fear upon the notion that a dangerous beast had miraculously survived the purge of Urach’s menagerie. What if something moved in after the predators were exterminated? Something different and terrible? Nature abhorred a vacuum, right? Goose bumps rose along her arms. They were under observation. She knew it, her skin knew it, and so did Casey, but Casey wouldn’t back down now, not after coming this far. She said, “The sun is wrong.” Indeed, the sun drifted too close to the horizon considering the hour; an artificial ceramic model painted crimson. The moon, pitted and bright as a reflecting pool, hung directly above the sun, melting in its corona of black flame. “我该跟着你。”塔拉说。昨夜有个不愉快的预感缠上了她。她害怕的是，某只危险的野兽奇迹般躲过了乌拉克动物园的清洗行动。万一掠食者灭绝后，来了更可怕的东西呢？自然厌恶真空，对吧？她手臂泛起鸡皮疙瘩。她们正被窥视着。她清楚，她的皮肤清楚，凯西也清楚，但凯西绝不会在此时退缩，尤其已走到这一步。塔拉低语：“太阳不对劲。”确实，考虑到时间，太阳不该如此贴近地平线：一个涂成深红色的人造陶瓷模型。坑洼的月亮明亮如反光池，高悬于太阳正上方，在黑火焰的日冕中逐渐融化。

“Quit worrying. I’ll be gone fifteen minutes tops and then circle back. You got the machete.” Casey, oblivious to the presence of hell, stalked toward the ruins. She bent to scan for spoor, in unwitting parody of a big-game hunter. Her drab jacket and pants merged with the background. “别瞎操心。最多十五分钟我就绕回来。你拿着砍刀。”凯西对地狱的存在浑然不觉，径自走向废墟。她弯腰搜寻动物足迹，无意间模仿着大型猎物猎人的姿态。那身灰暗的夹克和裤子与背景融为一体。

Tara sipped water. Leaves drifted. She twitched the machete, ready to jump. Probably better her sister toted the firearm. She didn’t see the shadow falling from the top of a grand sycamore on her left flank. However, as prey animals detect imminent danger with a sixth or seventh sense, she felt the shadow descending upon her. Her insides chilled and time slowed. A piece of naturalist trivia revisited her forebrain—how Homo sapiens’ skeletal structure, with its slopes and shelves, is designed to protect against downward blows, death from above. Tara turned and beheld a magnificent horror birthed in another eon, its glide path a heartbeat from intersecting with her position, killing talons splayed like daggers of industrial machinery. It blotted out the sun. Large enough to decapitate a dog. To lift a goat. Or a human. 塔拉喝了口水。树叶飘落。她抽动砍刀，准备随时跳开。或许姐姐带着枪是好事。她没注意到左边一棵巨大悬铃木顶端落下的阴影。然而就像猎物凭第六或第七感察觉迫近的危险，她感到阴影正朝自己压来。内脏瞬间冰凉，时间变慢了。一段博物学冷知识闪回前脑——智人的骨骼结构带着斜坡与平台，正是为防御自上而下的攻击而演化，防御从天而降的死亡。塔拉转身，看见诞生于另一纪元的恐怖造物正滑翔逼近，其飞行轨迹离她的位置只差一记心跳，杀戮的利爪如工业机械的匕首般张开。它遮蔽了太阳。大到足以斩下狗头；提起山羊；或提起人类。

Tara almost finished her thought: There are other gods— 塔拉差一点就能完成她的思考：还有其他神——

Casey slogged under the head of the ruined mansion’s front door frame. A freestanding wall and scorched rubble remained of the palatial home. More bones were heaped among weeds. This was no den of coyotes nor any familiar animal. It was a tomb snugged into the corner of a killing ground. Dog-eat-dog world? For sure. In turn, something bigger and meaner had eaten the victorious canines, the felines, and the coyotes. And a few people? Intent upon shutting down Tara’s paranoid anxiety, she’d harped on about state-sponsored extermination. She’d put faith in shooting galleries and lethal chemical traps, but didn’t believe her own bluster. A sneaky bitch, Mother Nature. Alligators in sewers were a myth, although some occasionally swam in New York City lakes. One of Urach’s exotic pets might’ve survived the infamous purge. What if such a beast had given birth to mutant babies due to the poison? That which doesn’t kill makes a monster stronger . . . The clunky rifle was light as a BB gun. 凯西艰难穿过废墟豪宅门框的顶部。这座宫殿般的宅邸只剩一堵孤立的墙和烧焦的瓦砾。杂草堆里散落着更多骸骨。这里既非郊狼巢穴，也非任何熟悉动物的居所，而是杀戮场角落里一座隐蔽的坟墓。狗咬狗的世界？当然。但接着，某种更大更凶残的东西吃掉了胜利的犬科动物、猫科动物和郊狼。还有几个人？为消除塔拉的偏执焦虑，她反复强调政府组织的灭绝行动。她相信射击场和致命化学陷阱，却连自己的大话都不信。大自然母亲是个狡猾的婊子。下水道里的鳄鱼虽是都市传说，但纽约市湖泊偶尔确实会有鳄鱼出没。乌拉克的某只异域宠物或许真从那次臭名昭著的清洗中幸存了。万一这畜生因毒物诞下变异后代呢？杀不死怪物的东西会让它更强……笨重的步枪在她手里轻得像把BB枪。

What she initially mistook for a mound of plant-festooned debris proved to be the grandaddy altar. Fifteen to eighteen feet from base to summit, eroded and foreboding, it occupied the center of the ruins in a pool of scummy water. Reddish clay bricks, enshrouded in bittersweet and crowned by a raptor skull. The skull was so massive, it wouldn’t fit in a wheelbarrow. Surely a hoax. Shards of crystal, radioactive with gathered light, shined in its eye sockets. One of her childhood dino toys blown up into a B-movie prop discarded on the Skull Island set after Kong swatted it out of the sky. Biting insects swarmed. Except for their drone, all was hushed. Same as it had been the whole morning, except more profound. She wiped cold sweat from her brow. Tara had a point—the superintendent’s money wasn’t worth the chance of running into the maker of the bone piles or the bizarro pyramids. As Casey pivoted to retreat, she heard a loud snap—crisp and damp, like an enormous egg hatching. She looked over her shoulder. The altar’s foundation bubbled and split; first a hairline fracture, then a jagged grin done in red plaster. The grin broadened. Wide as a saltwater crocodile’s drooling jaws. Wide enough to swallow her alive. Black inside. Her legs were leaden. Why had she scoffed at Tara’s nightmares? Is this how sleep paralysis feels? Like you’re hip-deep in quicksand and a monster is breathing down your neck? Like you’re treading water in a vast, darksome gulf and you spot a fin? Casey’s vision bent like a fish-eye lens. Or so she convinced herself for about five seconds. The ground shuddered; the altar tilted and sank a couple of feet; water rushed toward the lowest point, sluicing into the yawning clay maw. The slurry of water, muck, and loose stones reverberated thunderously—a river plunging into a sinkhole. Galvanized by a burst of adrenaline, she lurched toward the front entrance of the ruin. The ground tilted, forcing her to clamber up a steep incline, free hand digging for purchase. Casey lunged across the threshold into the yard. She visualized claws snatching her back into the pit. Nothing emerged. The subterranean cacophony subsided and, in its absence, her pulse thudded in her ears. She caught her breath, managed to stand shakily, and shouted for Tara. Her cry echoed flatly. Pushing through grass with the rifle, a new, different fear rushed in to fill the void left by the fight-or-flight panic. Calling for someone without receiving a response stirs atavistic dread in the stoutest heart. Her voice rose, shrill, plaintive, and increasingly small. 她最初误认为挂满植物的土堆，其实是那座巨大的祭坛。从基座到顶部长约十五到十八英尺，风化严重且不祥，它位于废墟中央，浸泡在一片浑浊的水中。红褐色黏土砖被甜苦藤覆盖，顶部立着猛禽头骨。头骨巨大得连独轮车都装不下。绝对是伪造品。水晶碎片在眼窝里蓄满光线，放射出诡异光芒，活像她儿时的恐龙玩具被放大成B级片道具，被金刚从天上拍落后遗弃在骷髅岛片场。咬人的昆虫群起。除了虫鸣，万籁俱寂。这种寂静持续了整个早晨，此刻却更深沉了。她抹去额头的冷汗。塔拉说得对——警监那点钱不值得拿来赌命，去冒险遭遇骨堆或怪异金字塔的制造者。当凯西转身撤退时，听到清脆潮湿的断裂声，像巨型蛋壳破裂。她回头望去。祭坛基座翻涌开裂：先是一道发丝般的裂缝，接着裂成红色灰泥构成的锯齿状狞笑。那狞笑不断扩张，宽如咸水鳄垂涎的巨颚，宽到足以活吞她。内部一片漆黑。她的双腿灌了铅般沉重：为何要嘲笑塔拉的噩梦？难道睡眠瘫痪就是这种感觉？像你深陷流沙之中，怪物正对着你的脖子呼吸？像你在广阔的黑暗海沟中挣扎，却瞥见一条鲨鳍？凯西的视野如鱼眼镜头般扭曲。至少五秒钟内她如此坚信。地面震颤；祭坛倾斜着下沉数英尺；污水涌向最低处，冲刷进敞开的黏土巨口。泥浆、碎石与水流轰鸣着灌入——如同江河倾泻进落水洞。肾上腺素爆发使她踉跄扑向废墟前门。倾斜的地面迫使她徒手攀爬陡坡，另一只手疯狂抓寻支撑点。凯西猛冲过门槛跌进院子。她想象着爪子将她拖回坑中。但什么也没出现。地底的喧嚣渐息，此刻她耳中只回荡着自己的心跳。喘过气后，她摇晃着站起呼喊塔拉。叫声在空地上沉闷回响。她持枪拨开草丛，一种全新的恐惧取代了战斗或逃跑的惊慌。呼唤得不到回应时，最勇敢的心也会泛起原始恐惧。她的声音越来越高亢，尖利、哀怨，最终微弱地消散在空气里。

The sisters had the one flip phone in Casey’s pocket. She’d charged the phone prior to the expedition, yet it lay in her hand, dead as a brick. All she could do was yell herself hoarse while searching the mansion environs. She kept at it until dusk swooped down with shocking abruptness; God clicking the dimmer switch. Tara bailed for the truck. Get back to her. Get back to her as fast as you can. Casey held on to that prayer, repeated it as she blundered through a wall of thorns that had somehow regrown since Tara did her machete work. Casey bulldozed her way to Agate, running on adrenaline fumes. Mist hung in webs from the blacked streetlamps. Except for the moon and stars, primeval darkness ruled. The truck waited in a pool of ruddy moonlight, a rusted hulk on flattened tires. Jags of windshield glass winked. Eaten by rust, the rig could’ve been abandoned for years rather than parked less than twelve hours. 姐妹俩唯一的翻盖手机在凯西口袋里。出发前她明明充好了电，此刻手机却像砖块般死寂。她只能嘶喊着搜遍豪宅周边，直到暮色猝然降临，像上帝拨暗了调光器。塔拉肯定逃回卡车了。找到她。用最快速度找到她。凯西默念着这句祷词，一边重复着，一边撞进那堵自塔拉砍伐后不知怎地又重新长满荆棘的墙。她靠残存的肾上腺素推土机般冲上玛瑙街。街道灯柱上挂着蛛网般的雾气。除了月亮和星星，原始的黑暗主宰着一切。卡车停在一汪血色月光中，像是一堆锈迹斑斑、轮胎压扁的残骸。挡风玻璃的碎片闪烁着。这辆被锈蚀吞噬的车辆，看起来像是荒废了数年，而非仅仅停了不到十二个小时。

Tara wasn’t there either. 塔拉也不在那里。

Face and hands scratched bloody, throat burning with thirst, Casey refused to succumb to exhaustion. Instinct ruled. She focused upon what an uncle who served in the army referred to as evasion and escape. Why reality had flown off the rails was subordinate to reaching sanctuary. That meant hiking out of South End, so she got going. She made it as far as the underpass. The tunnel was gone, replaced by a rock wall sprayed with graffiti and topped by creepers. A snick of her lighter revealed: no. The rest was gibberish. She attempted to scale the wall. Something large and sinuous rustled among the vines and she flung herself to the ground. Took a while to get her wind back, and once she could manage, she scrambled away. 凯西的脸和手被刮得鲜血淋漓，喉咙干渴灼烧，却拒绝向疲惫屈服。本能主宰着她，专注于一个在军队服役的叔叔提到的躲避与逃脱。现实为何脱轨已不重要，抵达避难所才是首要目标。这意味着得徒步走出南端，于是她动身了。她勉强走到高架桥下。隧道消失了，取而代之的是喷满涂鸦的岩壁，顶端爬满了藤蔓。打火机咔哒亮起，不，其余全是胡言乱语。她试图攀爬岩壁，藤蔓间突然传来大型生物的窸窣声。她猛地扑倒在地，许久才喘过气，刚恢复力气就连滚带爬逃开。

Fine, she’d detour; follow streets until she hit another outlet. She limped onto Jasper toward Bolton High. Trees and bushes crowded closer than ever. There wasn’t the slightest question of stepping off the asphalt. Even sticking to the centerline, hungry tendrils snagged her clothing. A light flickered and she smelled a tang of creosote smoke and singed fat. Here was a semi-familiar driveway. The Professor, as Tara had referred to the woman, and her three rug rats hunkered around their firepit, gazing upon spitted meat searing in the flames. Their dirty faces slackened as Casey materialized before them. 好的，她会绕路；沿着街道走，直到找到另一个出口。她一瘸一拐走上碧玉径，朝博尔顿高中走去。树木和灌木丛前所未有地逼近。她绝不敢踏出柏油路半步。即使紧贴道路中线，饥饿的藤蔓仍钩住了她的衣服。一点火光摇曳，她闻到煤油烟和烧焦脂肪的气味。眼前是条半熟悉的车道。那位被塔拉称为教授的女人带着她的三个小毛孩，正蜷在火坑边盯着火焰里炙烤的叉烧肉。当凯西突然现身时，他们脏兮兮的脸松弛下来。

Casey snugged the rifle against her hip and aimed the barrel at the woman. “What did you sonsabitches do with my sister?” She blurted this, obeying the urge to name the fear bubbling inside her, to name a villain, a foe other than the formless menace of nature. To assign blame. No sooner had the accusation escaped her lips, she believed it wholly. 凯西将步枪抵在髋部，枪管瞄准那个女人。“你们这群狗娘养的把我妹妹怎么了？”她脱口而出，内心翻涌的恐惧驱使她必须为这恐惧命名，为邪恶命名，找一个超越无形自然威胁的具象敌人，归咎于某个人。这指控刚出口，她就彻底相信了它。

The Professor poked coals with the broken end of an antenna rod. The firelight played tricks. She wasn’t human, but rather a fairy-tale creature half in shadow. Beady eyes, snaggle fangs, and talons. Dressed in the same dingy ball cap and saggy sweater as yesterday. A witch, a troll, a composite of spare parts of extinct beasts. Grendel’s mom. The woman said, “Many of us squat in the ruins.” 教授用断裂的天线杆拨弄炭火。火光制造着幻觉——她不是人类，而是半隐在阴影里的童话书里爬出来的东西。珠子般的眼睛，尖利的獠牙，还有爪子。依然戴着昨天那顶脏球帽，穿着松垮毛衣。一个女巫，山怪，灭绝野兽零件拼凑的怪物。格伦德尔之母。女人说：“我们不少人在废墟里盘踞。”

Casey noticed other fires, wan and flickering, off in the darkness. “Where is she? I’ll kill you.” 凯西注意到远处黑暗中还有其他微弱闪烁的篝火。“她在哪里？我要杀了你。”

The woman unfolded. “Once, we crushed our enemies with rocks. Once, we skewered our prey with flint-head spears. Once, we flung spears with atlatls. Guns have existed for an eyeblink.” She stepped forward, long, bony arms extended, hands splayed. “Have you fired it recently, hon? Nothing here works like you hope it will.” The kids each brandished a knife or cleaver. They sidled onto the street and fanned into a semicircle blocking the escape path. The woman took another step and her chest bumped the Winchester. Casey squeezed the trigger. A hollow, anticlimactic click simultaneously relieved and horrified her. “Praise the Thunderbird,” the woman said. “Praise Imdugud. Praise the new dark age.” 女人直起身子。“曾经，我们用石头砸碎敌人。曾经，我们用燧石矛穿刺猎物。曾经，我们用投矛器掷出长矛。而枪械的存在不过眨眼一瞬。”她向前迈步，瘦长的手臂伸展，手掌摊开。“亲爱的，你最近开过枪吗？这里的东西都不会如你所愿。”孩子们各自挥舞着刀具，悄然挪到街上，扇形散开堵住退路。女人又进一步，胸膛抵上温彻斯特枪管。凯西扣动扳机。空洞乏味的咔哒声既让她松口气又毛骨悚然。“赞美雷鸟，”女人说，“赞美依姆杜古德，赞美新黑暗时代。”

Casey clubbed the professor’s jaw with the rifle butt. Another fighting move demonstrated by her uncle. This was a nightmare world operating on nightmare logic. Instead of crushing bone, the blow felt like smacking a tree and had a similar lack of effect. The stock splintered. She dropped the rifle and bolted past the woman through an open door into the house. There was nowhere else to go. The kids dropped to all fours and gave chase. The interior was a warren of corridors. Soot and stink, lit at wide gaps by tallow candles. Wind moaned in stony honeycombs beneath her slapping shoes. Cancerous Sheetrock. Holes in the walls; craters in the dirt floors. Shrouds of plastic, exposed pipes and wires, ocher daub pictograms of monstrous figures all merged into a phantasmagoric kaleidoscope of hell that kept going forever until she blasted aside a screen door, tumbling headlong onto heaps of offal. She belly-crawled down into a ditch and the waiting gape of a culvert. Her clothes were tattered, skin lacerated, and she’d lost the rifle. She gagged on shit and crawled, crawled, crawled heedlessly into a constricting steel throat. Ingested or reborn, she was too far gone to contemplate. She wriggled on, mindless as an infant. 凯西用枪托猛击教授的下巴。这招也是叔叔教的格斗术。噩梦世界遵循噩梦逻辑，这一击本该粉碎骨头，感觉却像砸中树干，毫无效果。枪托裂了。她扔下步枪，从女人身边冲过，跑进敞开的房门。别无选择。孩子们四肢着地追了上来。屋内是迷宫般的走廊。烟灰与恶臭中，间隔很远才插着几支牛油蜡烛。风在她啪嗒作响的鞋底下的石质蜂巢中呜咽。癌变的石膏板。墙上的破洞，泥地上的坑洼。塑料布、裸露的管线、赭石涂抹的怪物图腾，全都融汇成无止境的地狱万花筒，直到她撞开纱门，一头栽进内脏堆。她匍匐爬进沟渠，钻进等待着的下水道巨口。衣服破烂，皮肤划伤，步枪也丢了。她呛着屎爬啊爬，爬进收缩的钢铁咽喉。是被吞噬还是重生？她已无法思考，只是如婴儿般无知无觉地蠕动前行。

The children’s war whoops closed and faded, closed and faded. 孩子们的战吼声渐渐消失，远去。

Casey lay upon a bed of trampled grass for a while before she understood the red moon shining into her eyes was a streetlamp beam lancing through a film of blood. She didn’t remember struggling to her feet or shambling aimlessly forward, but soon there were more lights, then moving cars, and people. She opened a glass door and stood in the cocooning fluorescent glow of a doughnut shop. Ghosts flitted in her periphery. Dim voices. Her legs were tired. She sat and regarded her grimy hands on a fake wooden table. Reality trickled, trickled and filled her mind: the scent of warm bread and coffee; Muzak filtered through the hum of conversation and chiming cash registers. A cop walked in and looked her over. Walked away. 凯西躺在被踩踏的草地上，过了会儿才明白刺入眼中的红月光其实是穿透血膜的路灯光柱。她不记得自己挣扎着站起来，也不记得漫无目的地向前挪动，但很快就有更多的灯光，接着是行驶的汽车和人流。她推开玻璃门，站在甜甜圈店茧般的荧光灯下。余光里有鬼影浮动。模糊的人声。双腿沉重不堪。她坐下，盯着自己肮脏的双手搁在仿木桌面上。现实滴答滴答渗入脑海：温热面包与咖啡的香气；背景音乐混杂着交谈声和收银机的叮当响。一个警察走进来打量她，又走开了。

“Hi, there.” Janet Malcom replaced the officer. “Hell of a night you had. Let’s get you somewhere and cleaned up.” The superintendent wore her prescription glasses and a stylish peacoat. “你好。”珍妮特·马尔科姆替换了那个警察。“你今晚真是遭罪了。我们带你去个地方清理一下。”警监戴着她的处方眼镜，穿着一件时髦的海军大衣。

“My sister.” Casey’s neck had stiffened and she couldn’t turn her head to glance out the window. Her voice cracked. “She’s . . . They got her.” “我妹妹。”凯西的脖子僵硬了，她无法转头看向窗外。她的声音颤抖着。“她……他们抓走她了。”

“Who got her?” “谁抓走她了？”

“A psycho. And her demented rug rats. They got Tara and they tried to get me. The kids had knives.” “一个疯子。还有她那群疯癫的小崽子。他们抓走了塔拉，还试图抓我。那些孩子有刀。”

“Okay, okay. Where?” “好吧，好吧。在哪儿？”

“Some fucked-up house on Jasper Street.” “碧玉径上的一栋破房子。”

Superintendent Malcom made a call. “My people are headed over there to see what’s what. Come on.” She put Casey in a car and drove to the Erinyes Motor Inn. Same room as the sisters previously rented. The TV shimmered, mute. Onscreen, an eagle ravaged a scrawny wolf in black and white. Ten-second clip on a loop. Malcom said, “Enjoy the digs. You may as well be comfortable for what comes next.” 警监马尔科姆打了个电话。“我的人正赶过去查看情况。来吧。”她把凯西塞进一辆车，开往厄里倪厄斯汽车旅馆。还是姐妹俩之前租的那间房。电视闪烁着，没有声音。屏幕上，一只鹰在黑白画面中撕咬一只瘦弱的狼。十秒钟的片段在循环播放。马尔科姆说，“享受一下住处。接下来要发生的事，你还是舒服点好。”

Casey struggled to shake off her stupor. Her shoulders and back burned where she’d scraped them in the drainage pipe. “What does that mean?” 凯西努力想摆脱她的昏沉状态。她的肩膀和背部灼烧着，因为她在排水管里刮伤了它们。“这是什么意思？”

“It means everything that can be done, will be. Meanwhile, take a shower, grab some shut-eye. Hey, you must be starving. This burg has an excellent Mexican joint.” The superintendent fluffed a pillow and turned down the covers. “Hit the rack, princess. I’ll bring you some takeout in a while.” “意思是该做的都会做到。现在去冲个澡，睡会儿。嘿，你肯定饿坏了。这镇上有家很棒的墨西哥餐馆。”警监拍了拍枕头，掀开被角。“睡吧，小公主。待会儿给你带外卖来。”

“No.” Casey’s reservoir of anger and fear refilled, drip by drip. The superintendent’s words were meant to soothe her as one would lull a baby. “Screw that. Get the cops. Get the state troopers. The National Guard. I don’t give a shit who.” “不。”凯西的愤怒与恐惧正一滴一滴重新蓄满。警监的话就像哄婴儿般试图安抚她。“去他妈的。叫警察。叫州警。叫国民警卫队。我他妈才不在乎是谁。”

“Ah. Going to make this hard, eh?” “啊。打算让这变得困难，是吧？”

“You think I’m lying.” Casey’s anger burned hotter. She couldn’t make the figures balance, so she gave in to it. “Or nuts. Lady, I’m on the level. I’ll lead the way. Go in and find her—” “你觉得我在撒谎。”凯西的怒火更盛了。她算不清这笔账，索性放任怒火肆虐。“或者觉得我疯了。女士，我是认真的。我可以带路，进去找到她——”

“Later, yeah. Right now, you’re ready to collapse.” “等会儿，是的。现在，你快撑不住了。”

“Listen to me, goddamnit!” “听我说，该死的！”

The superintendent stuck her hands into her pockets. “Do you really think there’s anything left to find?” 警监把双手插进口袋里。“你真的以为还剩下什么可找的了？”

“What are you—” “你——”

“Vines. Quicksand. Carrion birds. Hyenas. Ants. Nature works fast when she opens her jaws.” “藤蔓。流沙。秃鹫。鬣狗。蚂蚁。当大自然张开嘴时，她行动得很快。”

Casey gaped in stupefaction, reliving her encounter with the bestial professor and those feral children . . . progeny of a wave of mutation that expressed itself in animal, man, and environment. The tunnel went too far, Tara’s phantom whispered from the opposite bed. The tunnel went too far. It’s still going. “Tara thought you wanted revenge. That’s why you hired us for this . . . job. I was a bitch. I laughed at her.” 凯西目瞪口呆地愣在原地，再次经历与兽性教授和那群野孩子相遇的场景……那是体现在动物、人类和环境中的一波变异产物。隧道走得太远了，塔拉的幽灵在对面床上低语。隧道走得太远了。它仍在延伸。“塔拉以为你想要复仇。这就是你雇佣我们做这份……工作的原因。我是个混蛋。我还嘲笑她。”

“Janet Malcom invited you to climb down this rabbit hole. Janet Malcom is probably looking at her watch and wondering where you two idiots went. I’m a different Janet.” The superintendent dropped an envelope onto the dresser. Cash. “For services rendered. Maybe for services, too. Tell me something. How did you escape South End?” “是珍妮特·马尔科姆邀请你们跳进这个兔子洞的。珍妮特·马尔科姆大概正看着手表，纳闷你们两个蠢货去哪儿了。我是另一个珍妮特。”警司把信封扔在梳妆台上。现金。“算是劳务费。也许也是封口费。告诉我，你是怎么逃出南端的？”

“The fuck are you on about?” “你到底在说什么鬼话？”

“It’s not complicated. How. Did. You. Escape?” “这很简单。你。怎么。逃出来的？”

“I crawled into a drain. Crawled forever.” “我钻进了一个下水道。一直爬，永无止境。”

Malcom said, “You’re so very wrong, girlie. There’s no getting out. There’s only deeper and deeper. Only the universe folding into itself. Time is a ring coiled around a void. A worm convulsed in your palm.” The sun fell into a pit. Malcom’s glasses reflected red moonlight. Her nose was long and cruel. “Apocalypse doesn’t mean the end of the world. It means the end of the world for you.” She took her hands out of her pockets. Talons gleamed. She dug them into the wood-paneled door, inscribing a ragged pyramid. When she’d finished, she walked out, hitching and hopping, and left the door ajar. A breeze swept in the dander-gauze scent of dying flowers, the stink of a tropical swamp. Fur musk. 马尔科姆说：“你大错特错了，小丫头。根本没有出路。只有越来越深陷。只有宇宙不断自我折叠。时间是个盘绕在虚空上的环。像你掌中痉挛的蠕虫。”太阳坠入深坑。马尔科姆的眼镜反射着血红的月光。她的鼻子又长又狰狞。“天启并非世界末日。只是你的世界末日。”她从口袋里抽出双手。利爪寒光闪闪，深深抓进木纹门板，刻出一个歪斜的金字塔。完成后，她一瘸一拐地跳着离开，门也没关严。微风送来垂死花朵的粉尘气息，夹杂热带沼泽的腐臭。还有野兽的麝香。

Casey went into the bathroom. She swayed upon the threshold, knew the space was too large by magnitudes. No walls, no ceiling, no human borders. Hungry wilderness. Flipped the light switch. The white sun flickered on and she beheld the cavernous shower stall canted amid a night jungle. A predator’s thorny nest entwined the showerhead and the frame. White, shattered bones: spinal cord, shorn ribs, a fractured pelvic girdle, all dangled as a piece from dripping vines. Tara’s mood ring lay amid bloody hanks of hair on the no-slip mat. Dead black. 凯西走进浴室。她在门槛上摇晃，意识到这个空间大得离谱。没有墙壁，没有天花板，没有人类的边界。饥饿的荒野。她按下电灯开关，白炽灯闪烁亮起，她看见那个巨大的淋浴间斜斜地嵌在一片夜色丛林中。一个捕食者的荆棘巢穴缠绕着花洒和支架。白色的碎骨：断裂的脊椎、削落的肋骨、破碎的骨盆，全都悬挂在滴水的藤蔓上。塔拉的情绪戒指躺在防滑垫那束血染的头发中。死一般的漆黑。

She rode the next bus out of Eel Neck back to Kingston. The driver stopped continuously. No one else boarded. Eventually, she made it home to their lousy apartment on the faint chance Tara might be there. Emptier than ever. She hiked over to their mother’s house. Mom wasn’t around, so Casey waited, steeling herself to deliver the bad news that Tara was missing, maybe forever. Things were off, though. She got the sense she’d wandered onto an elaborate film set. First clue, the phone was seemingly frozen in its cradle. The remote control wouldn’t change the channel on TV away from that hellish nature documentary. The fridge was a sealed vault. The lone functioning cabinet held cobwebs and a bottle of whiskey. Dusty because Mom quit a while back. 她乘下一班公交车离开鳗颈镇，返回金斯顿。司机不断停车，但再没有其他人上车。最终，她回到了他们那破败的公寓，抱着一丝希望，也许塔拉会在这里。空荡得前所未有。她徒步走到他们母亲的家。妈妈不在，凯西便等待，强忍着要传达塔拉失踪的消息，也许永远不会再回来。但事情不对劲。她有种感觉，自己好像误入了一个复杂的电影布景。第一个线索，电话似乎被卡在听筒里。遥控器无法切换电视频道，无法摆脱那恐怖的自然纪录片。冰箱像是一座密封的保险库。唯一能用的橱柜里挂着蜘蛛网，还有一瓶威士忌。因为妈妈很久以前就辞职了，所以积满了灰尘。

On the nightstand, Mom kept a picture of them when they were young. Casey traced her phantom sister. The sun in the photograph hung in a strange green sky. Grass, thick and sharp, twined her sister’s legs. Everglades circa 10,000,000 BC. She said, “You were right, sis. She opens her jaws and she’s coming for all of us.” 床头柜上，妈妈放着一幅他们年轻时的照片。凯西描摹着她已逝的妹妹。照片里的太阳悬挂在一片奇异的绿色天空中。浓密而尖锐的草丛缠绕着妹妹的双腿。大约是公元前一百万年的沼泽地带。她说：“你是对的，妹妹。她张开嘴，就要来抓我们所有人了。”

“Don’t think of it as a bad thing,” said a voice from the air near the lamp. “不要把它当作坏事。”一个声音从灯附近的空中传来。

A blackbird lit upon the sill. Its silhouette warped in the pane, enlarged. The shadow of its wings darkened the floor, the bed, the wall. Rising, spreading. Peck, peck, peck, its beak pitted the glass. Casey fled to the hall, howling inchoate protest against forces vast and implacable. The window shattered. Furniture crashed. Walls caved into the earth. The shadow doubled and redoubled and swooped after her, beating. 一只乌鸦落在窗台上。它的剪影在窗玻璃上扭曲变形，被放大。它的翅膀的阴影笼罩了地板、床铺、墙壁。升起，蔓延。啄，啄，啄，它的喙啄穿了玻璃。凯西逃到大厅，发出含糊不清的抗议，抗议那些浩瀚无垠、无情无义的力量。窗户碎裂了。家具倾倒。墙壁塌陷到地面上。它的阴影加倍、再加倍，然后追击她，敲打她。

She tried every door, but none would open. 她试了每一扇门，但没有一扇能打开。