Читать книгу Mr. X - Peter Straub - Страница 11

At the whispery pop of a seam I looked over my shoulder, saw a shadow fleeing down sunny Cherry Street, and fell bang on my bottom in surprise. At least once a week during my childhood and adolescence, this happened the moment my head hit the pillow. My shadow elongated over the white sidewalk and bent sideways to slip around the corner. The terror of an irredeemable loss immobilized me on the warm pavement. I got up, ran to the corner, and saw my shadow floating like a solid substance above the sidewalk ahead. When I pounded forward, the sidewalk tilted like a slide, and the familiar houses and dark porches softened in the heat.

Edgerton was gone.

I ran down a beaten track leading to a narrow river and an arched wooden bridge. The upright shadow scampered on. On the far side of the bridge, a line of stunted trees marked the beginning of a forest. I glimpsed the peaked roof and broken upper windows of an abandoned house above the treetops. My shadow moved up the arch of the bridge, leaned on the curved iron railing, and crossed one foot over the other. It faced me without having turned around.

Like an optical illusion, the mocking shadow receded with every stride I took. When finally I stood on the bridge, the shadow regarded me from fifty feet away and a point well above my head.

‘You seem to be trying to catch me,’ my shadow said.

‘I need you,’ I said.

‘Then you’d better come along.’ The shadow did its trick of switching front and back and moved on.

By the time I reached the top of the arch, the shadow was far down the descending slope. The iron handrails had become slim and delicate, and the planks bent beneath my weight.

The shadow patted the railing. ‘The longer it gets, the thinner it becomes. Like toffee. In the end, it disappears.’

‘Can I get to the other end?’

‘Maybe, if you get into some fancy sliding, use your momentum.’

‘We need each other,’ I said. ‘We’re the same thing.’

‘You are me, and I am you, yes,’ said the shadow. ‘But only in the sense that we each have qualities the other lacks. Unfortunately, your qualities are boring.’

‘Boring?’

‘Dear me, am I doing the right thing? What do other people think of me? Why don’t they like me?’ The shadow flicked its hands in the air, as if to scatter a cloud of gnats. ‘I don’t give a damn what people think of me.’

‘You’re a shadow,’ I said. ‘People don’t think about you at all.’

‘Then why care about getting me back?’

I had no answer for that.

‘You won’t even be able to go out by yourself at night for another six or seven years. When do we have our first cigarette? Our first drink? When do we get to have actual sex?’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘I want darkness, I want night. I want to see a big steak in front of me and a glass of whiskey beside the plate. I want cards in my hand and a cigar in my mouth and a little grown-up fun, and, kid, with you, it’s going to be too much work to get them.’

‘Without me, you can’t get them at all,’ I said.

‘On the contrary. Without you, I can do whatever I like. If you catch me, I have to come back, but I won’t be easy to catch, and you’ll be in considerable danger during the pursuit.’

‘What kind of danger?’ I asked.

‘That kind, for one.’ He swept his arm toward the forest. Imaginary blue fire flickered from branch to branch. My heart went cold and my mind became a stone.