JК
Bag of Bones :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 382 из 425Right now I only wanted to make sure that Kyra was safe and stayed safe. There was only one way to do that. Lye stille. I attempted to slip the rubber bands around the steno books again, and the one I hadn’t looked at slipped out of my wet hand and fell to the floor. A torn slip of green paper fell out. I picked it up and saw this:
For a moment I came out of that strange and heightened awareness I’d been living in; the world fell back into its accustomed dimensions. But the colors were all too strong, somehow, objects too emphatically present. I felt like a battlefield soldier suddenly illuminated by a ghastly white flare, one that shows everything. My father’s people had come from The Neck, I had been right about that much; my great-grandfather according to this was James Noonan, and he had never shit in the same pit as Jared Devore. Max Devore had either been lying when he said that to Mattie… or misinformed… or simply confused, the way folks often get confused when they reach their eighties. Even a fellow like Devore, who had stayed mostly sharp, wouldn’t have been exempt from the occasional nick in his edge. And he hadn’t been that far off at that. Because, according to this little scratch of a chart, my great-grandfather had had an older sister, Bridget. And Bridget had married—Benton Auster. My finger dropped down a line, to Harry Auster. Born of Benton and Bridget Noonan Auster in the year 1885. “Christ Jesus,” I whispered. “Kenny Auster’s grandfather was my granduncle. And he was one of them. Whatever they did, Harry Auster was one of them. That’s the connection.” I thought of Kyra with sudden sharp terror. She had been up at the house by herself for nearly an hour. How could I have been so stupid? Anyone could have come in while I was under the studio. Sara could have used anyone to-I realized that wasn’t true. The murderers and the child victims had all been linked by blood, and now that blood had thinned, that river had almost reached the sea. There was Bill Dean, but he was staying well away from Sara Laughs.
There was Kenny Auster, but Kenny had taken himself and his family off to Taxachusetts. And Ki’s closest blood relations—mother, father, grandfather—were all dead. Only I was left. Only I was blood. Only I could do it. Unless-I bolted back up to the house as fast as I could, slipping and sliding my way along the soaked path, desperate to make sure she was all right.
For a moment I came out of that strange and heightened awareness I’d been living in; the world fell back into its accustomed dimensions. But the colors were all too strong, somehow, objects too emphatically present. I felt like a battlefield soldier suddenly illuminated by a ghastly white flare, one that shows everything. My father’s people had come from The Neck, I had been right about that much; my great-grandfather according to this was James Noonan, and he had never shit in the same pit as Jared Devore. Max Devore had either been lying when he said that to Mattie… or misinformed… or simply confused, the way folks often get confused when they reach their eighties. Even a fellow like Devore, who had stayed mostly sharp, wouldn’t have been exempt from the occasional nick in his edge. And he hadn’t been that far off at that. Because, according to this little scratch of a chart, my great-grandfather had had an older sister, Bridget. And Bridget had married—Benton Auster. My finger dropped down a line, to Harry Auster. Born of Benton and Bridget Noonan Auster in the year 1885. “Christ Jesus,” I whispered. “Kenny Auster’s grandfather was my granduncle. And he was one of them. Whatever they did, Harry Auster was one of them. That’s the connection.” I thought of Kyra with sudden sharp terror. She had been up at the house by herself for nearly an hour. How could I have been so stupid? Anyone could have come in while I was under the studio. Sara could have used anyone to-I realized that wasn’t true. The murderers and the child victims had all been linked by blood, and now that blood had thinned, that river had almost reached the sea. There was Bill Dean, but he was staying well away from Sara Laughs.
There was Kenny Auster, but Kenny had taken himself and his family off to Taxachusetts. And Ki’s closest blood relations—mother, father, grandfather—were all dead. Only I was left. Only I was blood. Only I could do it. Unless-I bolted back up to the house as fast as I could, slipping and sliding my way along the soaked path, desperate to make sure she was all right.