Déjà Vu 似曾相识

周海祺

Neighbors who came across the old colonel lately， often described him as drifting in some dreamy trance. Indeed， having devoted his youth to a life， literally， on bullets and knives， it was not in the colonels nature to settle down.

By the time the old colonels son returned from work， rottenly exhausted， he was the last in the household of four—that is， himself， the colonel， his wife， and his son， Yu—to be in on the discovery of the colonels shifting way， save for the colonel himself.

The summer holiday was coming， and when one day Yu was told of holiday plans to go mountain climbing， he was not quite sure if he had heard right.

“Mountain climbing？” said Yu.

“Yes， mountain climbing，” the father replied.

There was a tone of finality in his fathers voice， a swift determinant of fate that made Yu relinquish all rehearsed tantrums that he would usually throw. The departing train arrived half past eight on a Saturday and the father had deliberately chosen a train over a plane.

“I bought us standing tickets，” the father announced， excited and solemn. “Really， its a good experience. Always nice to have a taste of different things.”

The colonel， though， was rightfully offered a seat in the first-class cabin. Strapped to his belt was a black pistol， an antique like himself. A general had bestowed the pistol to him for exceptional valor in wartime. The colonel received permission to carry it with him at all times， even after the war ended， but it had never once been fired， nor did anyone ever notice， with the gun being small and hidden behind clothing.

The colonel rested his head against the windowpane， its coldness tangible but refreshing， like a temporary antidote to his decelerating mind， which seemed to grow foggier each day.

The family felt， rather saw， the looming presence of Mount Hua. But as the SUV they rented after they got off the train traveled on， the colonels eyelids drooped， eventually succumbing to a dreamy slumber. He was twenty-five， give or take a few years. The rifle in his hands weighed more than it should. He wrapped his fingers around the trigger， the other hand clutching the guns extending front overly tight. Bullets zizzed past his head; shouts exploded from all directions. He wasnt sure which was louder， the nonstop firing or the deafening vibration of his screaming heart. His unit lured the enemy up a steep mountain passage， a holdout which they were determined to defend. His mind was purged of all thoughts， other than the one singular， remaining faith： Hold the enemy back at all cost.

The colonel woke to an indistinct humming of scattered conversations. They had reached an open field at the bottom of the mountain， where visitors parked their cars and proceeded toward the entrance of the scenic trails. Stepping down from the automobile with help from his son， a part of him still lingered in that recurring trance. Ever since he surpassed sixty years of age， nights and naps were whiled away in an unremembering darkness. No dreams had invigorated his sleep for years， save for that scene of battle on a mountain， which was a genuine memory he could recall， a fragment of time from the prime of his life.

What intrigued Yu and his father was the odd outburst of vigor the grandpa had begun to demonstrate. The colonels frail body frame had been emitting a disproportionate amount of energy ever since they entered the mountain trail.

The colonel had noticed a faint surge of familiarity swell up， not long after they began to hike along the trail， and as he trudged on the feeling was only magnified. There！ Half a tree trunk， entirely charred， laid horizontally on the forest ground， obstructing the right side of the walkway. The colonel recalled passing by a burnt tree trunk some forty years ago， one possibly struck by lightning. No longer did he hold more doubts. It was the exact place he fought till the end as a private， the very mountain that haunted him through all the rewinding nights.

With each step the Colonel was recharged with an electrifying confidence.  Fate was leading him back to the graveyard of a battlefield， he was sure of it; it had always been his duty to send his fellow soldiers to an eternally peaceful rest.

A drizzle， a shower， a downpour—rains evolution took no time at all and permitted no time to react. Within seconds the father and Yu were soaked， T-shirts adhering to their skin like swimming suits. The colonel was ahead of them， at the maximum range of sight and sound.

The father shouted to get his attention.

Hearing sounds， but not words， the colonel turned. He saw two figures through the rain， the taller brandishing his gun， the shorter stood to the side， howling taunts. Enemies were cunning， cold-blooded fiends， and they were upon him. Further down the track were more sinister shadows， obscure but advancing amid the shaded mist.

Behind him dwelt the spirits of blood-bonded comrades， bracing for a deathly skirmish. Behind him the sacred land of the republic stretched， demanding from him a final stand. No time to lose now—the colonel， trembling， reached for his pistol， and after taking aim， pulled the trigger， sensing the shot.                   ■

最近偶然遇到老上校的邻居都说他有点儿恍恍惚惚的。事实上，他戎马一生，本质上就是个安定不下来的人。

老上校跟儿子一家住在一起。这是一个四口之家，除了上校和他儿子，还有儿媳和孙子小于。儿子下班回来已疲惫不堪，是家中最后一個发现上校有些神思恍惚的人，当然上校本人除外。

快放暑假了，有天小于得知假期全家计划去爬山，他有点儿怀疑自己是否听错了。

“爬山？”小于问。

“是的，爬山。”父亲回答。

父亲说得斩钉截铁，透着不容商量的劲儿，这让小于把通常会发的牢骚憋了回去。火车订的是星期六早上8点半的，父亲特意选择了火车而不是飞机。

“我给咱俩买的是站票。”父亲激动而严肃地宣布，“相信我，这次经历会很棒。尝试不同的东西总是好的。”

不过，给上校买的当然还是一等座的票。上校腰带上别着一把黑色手枪，那是个和他岁数一般大的古董。战争年代，为了表彰上校的英勇表现，一位将军将这把手枪赠给了他。上校获准随时佩带此枪，甚至战争结束后也可以这么做，但这把枪从未开过一次火，也没人注意过，因为枪很小，被衣服盖住了。

上校把头靠在窗玻璃上，玻璃的凉意很真切，却也很提神，就像一剂暂时的解药，让他那越发迟钝的头脑清醒过来，他的脑子似乎一天比一天糊涂了。

下火车后，他们租了一辆越野车。行进途中，这家人感觉到，更确切地说是看到了若隐若现的华山。不过，随着车子继续行驶，上校的眼皮渐渐耷拉下来，最终他迷迷糊糊地打起盹儿来。他梦到自己25岁上下的时候。手中的步枪感觉超乎寻常地重。他的手指扣在扳机上，另一只手紧紧握着枪身前端。子弹从他头侧呼啸而过，喊声从四面八方响起。他耳边枪声不断，他的心脏似乎在震颤中尖叫着，那叫声震耳欲聋——他不确定哪一种声音更响。他的队伍诱使敌人爬上一条陡峭的山道，这是他们要坚守的阵地。他的大脑一片空白，只留下一个信念：不惜一切代价挡住敌人。

上校在一阵嗡嗡的谈话声中醒来，对话支离破碎，听不清楚。他们已经开到了山脚下的一块空地，游客一般都把车停在这里，徒步走向风景步道的入口。上校由儿子搀扶下了车，但他并没有完全清醒，多多少少仍处于那种反复出现的恍惚中。自打他过了60岁，夜里的正觉和白天的小睡就都是在混混沌沌中睡过的，什么也记不得。多年来，除了在山头上战斗的那个场面，没有一个梦能让他在睡觉时感到自己充满活力，那是他能回想起的真实记忆，是他人生巅峰时的一个片段。

上校突然表现出惊人的活力，这种不同寻常的爆发激起了小于和他父亲的好奇。自从他们踏上山路，上校虚弱的身体就一直在释放超乎想象的能量。

他们沿着小路走了不久，一种淡淡的熟悉感便涌上了上校的心头。他在山路上跋涉时，这种感觉愈加强烈。那里！半根完全烧焦的树干横在林地里，挡住了右侧山路。上校回忆起自己大约40年前也曾从一根烧焦的树干旁经过，那树干可能是被闪电击中过。他不再怀疑什么了，这里正是他作为普通一兵战斗到最后的地方，这座山也正是无数个夜里在他梦中一次次出现的那座山。

每走一步，上校都激动不已，信心满满。他确信，命运正把他带回战争过后那片埋葬着生命的土地;他始终有一份职责，要让战友们得到永久的安息。

山雨说来就来，让人措手不及——先是毛毛雨，然后是阵雨，最后变成了倾盆大雨。父亲和小于一下子就湿透了，T恤像泳衣一样贴在皮肤上。上校远远走在前面，他们隐约还能看见他的身影、听见他的动静。

父亲大声喊着上校，希望引起他的注意。

上校听到喊声回过了身，但他听不清喊的什么。透过大雨，他看见两个人影，高个儿挥舞着枪，矮个儿站在一边大声骂着什么。敌人都是狡猾、冷血的恶魔，他们正向他逼近。他们身后的小道上有更多邪恶的影子，虽然看不清，但正在朦胧的雨雾中一点点向他靠近。

他身后聚集着血脉相连的战友们的英魂，准备迎接一场殊死的战斗。他身后绵延着共和国神圣的领土，要求他做出最后一搏。没时间了——上校颤抖着，掏枪，瞄准，扣动扳机，后坐力猛然袭来。                  □