JК
Desperation :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 388 из 422She’d scared him, but he had bounced back. She guessed he was the kind of guy who had made a second career out of bouncing back from stuff. And when he wasn’t concentrating on being an asshole, he could be amusing.
The.30-.06 was lying beside him. Johnny felt around for it without raising his head, picked it up, and laid it across his knees. “I suspect I may miss a lecture tomorrow evening,” he said to the ceiling. “It was to be on the subject ‘Punks and Post-literates: American Writ-ing in the Twenty-first Century.’ I shall have to return the advance. ’sad, sad, sad, George and Martha.’ That’s from-”
“Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf…” Mary said. “Ed-ward Albee. We’re not all bozos on this bus.”
“Sorry,” Johnny said, sounding startled.
“Just be sure to put the apology in your journal,” she said, without the slightest idea of what she was talking about. He lowered his head to look at her, frowned for a moment, then started laughing. After a moment, Mary joined him. Then David was also laughing, and Ralph joined in. His was surprisingly high-pitched for a big man, a kind of cartoon tee-bee, and thinking that made Mary laugh even harder. It hurt her scraped stomach, but the hurt didn’t stop her.
Steve pounded on the back of the cab. It was impossible to tell if his muffled voice was amused or alarmed “What’s going on.”
In his best lion’s voice, Johnny Marinville roared back “Be quiet, you Texas longhorn!
We’re discussing litera ture back here!”
Mary screamed with laughter, one hand pressed to the base of her throat, the other curled against her throbbing belly. She wasn’t able to stop until the truck reached the crest of the embankment, crossed the rim, and started down the far side. Then all the humor went out of her at once. The others stopped at about the same time.
“Do you feel it.” David asked his father.
“I feel something.”
Mary started shivering. She tried to remember if she had been shivering before, while she was laughing, and couldn’t. They felt something, yes, she had no doubt that they did.
They might have felt even more if they had been out here earlier, if they’d had to get up this same road before the bleeding thing just behind could—Push it out of your head, Mare. Push it out and lock the door.
“Mary.” David asked.
She looked at him.
“It won’t be much longer.”
“Good.”
Five minutes later-very long minutes-the truck stopped and the cab doors opened.
The.30-.06 was lying beside him. Johnny felt around for it without raising his head, picked it up, and laid it across his knees. “I suspect I may miss a lecture tomorrow evening,” he said to the ceiling. “It was to be on the subject ‘Punks and Post-literates: American Writ-ing in the Twenty-first Century.’ I shall have to return the advance. ’sad, sad, sad, George and Martha.’ That’s from-”
“Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf…” Mary said. “Ed-ward Albee. We’re not all bozos on this bus.”
“Sorry,” Johnny said, sounding startled.
“Just be sure to put the apology in your journal,” she said, without the slightest idea of what she was talking about. He lowered his head to look at her, frowned for a moment, then started laughing. After a moment, Mary joined him. Then David was also laughing, and Ralph joined in. His was surprisingly high-pitched for a big man, a kind of cartoon tee-bee, and thinking that made Mary laugh even harder. It hurt her scraped stomach, but the hurt didn’t stop her.
Steve pounded on the back of the cab. It was impossible to tell if his muffled voice was amused or alarmed “What’s going on.”
In his best lion’s voice, Johnny Marinville roared back “Be quiet, you Texas longhorn!
We’re discussing litera ture back here!”
Mary screamed with laughter, one hand pressed to the base of her throat, the other curled against her throbbing belly. She wasn’t able to stop until the truck reached the crest of the embankment, crossed the rim, and started down the far side. Then all the humor went out of her at once. The others stopped at about the same time.
“Do you feel it.” David asked his father.
“I feel something.”
Mary started shivering. She tried to remember if she had been shivering before, while she was laughing, and couldn’t. They felt something, yes, she had no doubt that they did.
They might have felt even more if they had been out here earlier, if they’d had to get up this same road before the bleeding thing just behind could—Push it out of your head, Mare. Push it out and lock the door.
“Mary.” David asked.
She looked at him.
“It won’t be much longer.”
“Good.”
Five minutes later-very long minutes-the truck stopped and the cab doors opened.