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Bag of Bones :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 234 из 425The fingers grasping it looked powerful, but they were going as blackas the cane itself. His circulation was failing, and I couldn’t imagine what his feet and his lower legs must look like.
“Whore run off and left you, has she?”
I tried to say something. A croak came out of my mouth, nothing more. I was still holding the birch. I let go of it and tried to straighten up, but my legs were still weak and I had to grab it again.
He nudged a silver toggle switch and the chair came ten feet closer, halving the distance between us. The sound it made was a silky whisper; watching it was like watching an evil magic carpet. Its many wheels rose and fell independent of one another and flashed in the declining sun, which had begun to take on a reddish cast. And as he came closer, I felt the sense of the man. His body was rotting out from under him, but the force around him was undeniable and daunting, like an electrical storm.
The woman paced beside him, regarding me with silent amusement. Her eyes were pinkish. I assumed then that they were gray and had picked up a bit of the coming sunset, but I think now she was an albino.
“I always liked a whore,” he said. He drew the word out, making it horrrrrrr. “Didn’t I, Rogette?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “In their place.”
“Sometimes their place was on my face!” he cried with a kind of insane perkiness, as if she had contradicted him. “Where is she, young man?
Whose face is she sitting on right now? I wonder. That smart lawyer you found? Oh, I know all about him, right down to the Unsatisfactory Conduct he got in the third grade. I make it my business to know things.
It’s the secret of my success.”
With an enormous effort, I straightened up. “What are you doing here?”
“Having a constitutional, same as you. And no law against it, is there?
The Street belongs to anyone who wants to use it. You haven’t been here long, young whoremaster, but surely you’ve been here long enough to know that. It’s our version of the town common, where good pups and vile dogs may walk side-by-side.”
Once more using the hand not bunched around the red bicycle grip, he picked up the oxygen mask, sucked deeply, then dropped it back in his lap. He grinned—an unspeakable grin of complicity that revealed gums the color of iodine.
“She good? That little horrrrrr of yours? She must be good to have kept my son prisoner in that nasty little trailer where she lives. And then along comes you even before the worms had finished with my boy’s eyes. Does her cunt suck?”
“Shut up.
“Whore run off and left you, has she?”
I tried to say something. A croak came out of my mouth, nothing more. I was still holding the birch. I let go of it and tried to straighten up, but my legs were still weak and I had to grab it again.
He nudged a silver toggle switch and the chair came ten feet closer, halving the distance between us. The sound it made was a silky whisper; watching it was like watching an evil magic carpet. Its many wheels rose and fell independent of one another and flashed in the declining sun, which had begun to take on a reddish cast. And as he came closer, I felt the sense of the man. His body was rotting out from under him, but the force around him was undeniable and daunting, like an electrical storm.
The woman paced beside him, regarding me with silent amusement. Her eyes were pinkish. I assumed then that they were gray and had picked up a bit of the coming sunset, but I think now she was an albino.
“I always liked a whore,” he said. He drew the word out, making it horrrrrrr. “Didn’t I, Rogette?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “In their place.”
“Sometimes their place was on my face!” he cried with a kind of insane perkiness, as if she had contradicted him. “Where is she, young man?
Whose face is she sitting on right now? I wonder. That smart lawyer you found? Oh, I know all about him, right down to the Unsatisfactory Conduct he got in the third grade. I make it my business to know things.
It’s the secret of my success.”
With an enormous effort, I straightened up. “What are you doing here?”
“Having a constitutional, same as you. And no law against it, is there?
The Street belongs to anyone who wants to use it. You haven’t been here long, young whoremaster, but surely you’ve been here long enough to know that. It’s our version of the town common, where good pups and vile dogs may walk side-by-side.”
Once more using the hand not bunched around the red bicycle grip, he picked up the oxygen mask, sucked deeply, then dropped it back in his lap. He grinned—an unspeakable grin of complicity that revealed gums the color of iodine.
“She good? That little horrrrrr of yours? She must be good to have kept my son prisoner in that nasty little trailer where she lives. And then along comes you even before the worms had finished with my boy’s eyes. Does her cunt suck?”
“Shut up.