JК
Desperation :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 37 из 422What’s funny about a maniac cop on the loose, or six flat tires, or a family of four crammed into a hot police-car with no handles on the back doors, or my daughter’s favorite doll lying face-down in the dirt eight miles back. What could possibly be funny about any of those things.
He didn’t know. But the cop had sounded as if he were smiling.
“A state trooper, did you say.” Ralph asked as they drove beneath the blinker.
“Look, Mummy!” Kirsten said brightly, Melissa Sweet heart at least temporarily forgotten. “Bikes! Bikes in the street, and standing on their heads! See down there. Isn’t that funny.”
“Yes, honey, I see them,” Ellie said. She didn’t sound as if she found the upside-down bikes in the street any-where near as hilarious as her daughter did.
“Trooper. No, I didn’t say that.” The big man behind the wheel still sounded as if he were smiling. “Not a state trooper, a town cop.”
“Really,” Ralph said. “Wow. How many cops do you have in a little place like this, Officer.”
“Well, there were two others,” the cop said, the smile in his voice more obvious than ever, “but I killed them.”
He turned his head to look back through the mesh, and he wasn’t smiling after all. He was grinning. His teeth were so big they looked more like tools than bones. They showed all the way to the back of his mouth. Above and below them were what seemed like acres of pink gum.
“Now I’m the only law west of the Pecos.”
Ralph stared at him, mouth gaping. The cop grinned back, driving with his head turned, pulling up neatly in front of the Desperation Municipal Building without ever looking once at where he was going.
“Carvers,” he said, speaking solemnly through his grin, “welcome to Desperation.”
An hour Later the cop ran at the woman in the jeans and the workshirt, his cowboy boots rattling on the hard—wood floor, his hands outstretched, but his grin was gone and Ralph felt savage triumph leap up his throat, like something ugly on a spring. The cop was coming hard, but the woman in the jeans had managed—probably due more to luck than to any conscious decision on her part—to keep the desk between them, and that was going to make the difference. Ralph saw her pull back the ham-mers of the shotgun which had been lying on the desk, saw her raise it to her shoulder as her back struck the bars of the room’s largest cell, saw her curl her finger around the double triggers.
The big cop was going like hell, but it wasn’t going to do him any good.
Shoot him, lady. Ralph thought. Not to save us but because he killed my daughter.
He didn’t know. But the cop had sounded as if he were smiling.
“A state trooper, did you say.” Ralph asked as they drove beneath the blinker.
“Look, Mummy!” Kirsten said brightly, Melissa Sweet heart at least temporarily forgotten. “Bikes! Bikes in the street, and standing on their heads! See down there. Isn’t that funny.”
“Yes, honey, I see them,” Ellie said. She didn’t sound as if she found the upside-down bikes in the street any-where near as hilarious as her daughter did.
“Trooper. No, I didn’t say that.” The big man behind the wheel still sounded as if he were smiling. “Not a state trooper, a town cop.”
“Really,” Ralph said. “Wow. How many cops do you have in a little place like this, Officer.”
“Well, there were two others,” the cop said, the smile in his voice more obvious than ever, “but I killed them.”
He turned his head to look back through the mesh, and he wasn’t smiling after all. He was grinning. His teeth were so big they looked more like tools than bones. They showed all the way to the back of his mouth. Above and below them were what seemed like acres of pink gum.
“Now I’m the only law west of the Pecos.”
Ralph stared at him, mouth gaping. The cop grinned back, driving with his head turned, pulling up neatly in front of the Desperation Municipal Building without ever looking once at where he was going.
“Carvers,” he said, speaking solemnly through his grin, “welcome to Desperation.”
An hour Later the cop ran at the woman in the jeans and the workshirt, his cowboy boots rattling on the hard—wood floor, his hands outstretched, but his grin was gone and Ralph felt savage triumph leap up his throat, like something ugly on a spring. The cop was coming hard, but the woman in the jeans had managed—probably due more to luck than to any conscious decision on her part—to keep the desk between them, and that was going to make the difference. Ralph saw her pull back the ham-mers of the shotgun which had been lying on the desk, saw her raise it to her shoulder as her back struck the bars of the room’s largest cell, saw her curl her finger around the double triggers.
The big cop was going like hell, but it wasn’t going to do him any good.
Shoot him, lady. Ralph thought. Not to save us but because he killed my daughter.