JК
Desperation :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 419 из 422Above it was a gigantic cloud of dark gray dust. It hung in the sky, still connected to the pit by a hazy umbilicus of rising dust and powdered earth: the remains of a mountain rising into the sky like poisoned ground after a nuclear blast. It made the shape of a wolf, its tail pointing toward the newly risen sun, its grotesquely elongated snout pointed west, where the night was still draining sullenly from the sky.
The snout hung open. Protruding from it was a strange shape, amorphous but somehow reptilian. There was something of the scorpion in that shape, and of the lizard as well.
Can tak, can tah.
Mary screamed through raised hands. Looked up at the shape in the sky, eyes bulging over her dirty fingers, head shaking from side to side in a useless gesture of negation.
“Stop,” David said, and put his arm around her waist. “Stop, Mary. It can’t hurt us. And it’s going away already. See.”
It was true. The hide of the skywolf was tearing open in some places, appearing to melt in others, letting the sun shine through in long, golden rays that were both beau-tiful and somehow comical-the sort of shot you expected to see at the end of a Bible epic.
“I think we ought to go,” Steve said at last.
“I think we never should have come in the first place,” Mary said faintly, and got into the car. Already she could smell the aroma of her dead husband’s aftershave.
David stood watching as she pulled the seat forward and slipped the key into the ignition. He felt distant from himself, a creature floating in space somewhere between a dark star and a light one. He thought of sitting at the kitchen table back home, sitting there. and playing slap-jacks with Pie. He thought he would see Steve and Mary and Cynthia, nice as they were, dead and in hell for just one more game of Slap-jacks in the kitchen with her-Pie with a glass of Cranapple juice, him with a Pepsi, both of them giggling like mad. He would see him-self in hell, for that matter. How far could it be, after all, from Desperation.
Mary turned the key in the ignition. The engine cranked briskly and started almost at once. She grinned and clapped her hands.
“David. Ready to go.”
“Sure. I guess.”
“Hey.” Cynthia put a hand on the back of his neck. “You all right, my man.”
He nodded, not looking up.
Cynthia bent over and kissed his cheek. “You have to fight it,” she whispered in his ear.
“You have to fight it, you know.”
“I’ll try,” he said, but the days and weeks and months ahead looked impossible to him.
The snout hung open. Protruding from it was a strange shape, amorphous but somehow reptilian. There was something of the scorpion in that shape, and of the lizard as well.
Can tak, can tah.
Mary screamed through raised hands. Looked up at the shape in the sky, eyes bulging over her dirty fingers, head shaking from side to side in a useless gesture of negation.
“Stop,” David said, and put his arm around her waist. “Stop, Mary. It can’t hurt us. And it’s going away already. See.”
It was true. The hide of the skywolf was tearing open in some places, appearing to melt in others, letting the sun shine through in long, golden rays that were both beau-tiful and somehow comical-the sort of shot you expected to see at the end of a Bible epic.
“I think we ought to go,” Steve said at last.
“I think we never should have come in the first place,” Mary said faintly, and got into the car. Already she could smell the aroma of her dead husband’s aftershave.
David stood watching as she pulled the seat forward and slipped the key into the ignition. He felt distant from himself, a creature floating in space somewhere between a dark star and a light one. He thought of sitting at the kitchen table back home, sitting there. and playing slap-jacks with Pie. He thought he would see Steve and Mary and Cynthia, nice as they were, dead and in hell for just one more game of Slap-jacks in the kitchen with her-Pie with a glass of Cranapple juice, him with a Pepsi, both of them giggling like mad. He would see him-self in hell, for that matter. How far could it be, after all, from Desperation.
Mary turned the key in the ignition. The engine cranked briskly and started almost at once. She grinned and clapped her hands.
“David. Ready to go.”
“Sure. I guess.”
“Hey.” Cynthia put a hand on the back of his neck. “You all right, my man.”
He nodded, not looking up.
Cynthia bent over and kissed his cheek. “You have to fight it,” she whispered in his ear.
“You have to fight it, you know.”
“I’ll try,” he said, but the days and weeks and months ahead looked impossible to him.