JК
Desperation :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 389 из 422Steve and Cynthia came around to theback. “Hop out, you guys,” Steve said “Last stop.”
Mary worked herself out of the truck, wincing at every move. She hurt all over, but her legs were the worst. If she had sat in the back of the truck much longer, she reckoned she probably wouldn’t have been able to walk at all.
“Johnny, do you still have those aspirin.”
He handed them over. She took three, washing them down with the last of her Jolt. Then she walked around to the front of the truck.
They were at the bottom of the China Pit, first time for the others, second for her. The field office was near; looking at it, thinking of what was inside and of how close she had probably come to ending her existence in there, made her feel like screaming. Then her eyes fixed on the cruiser, the driver’s door still open, the hood still raised, the air-cleaner still lying by the left front tire.
“Put your arm around me,” she told Johnny.
He did, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Now walk me over to that car.”
“Why.”
“There’s something I have to do.”
“Mary, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish,” David said.
“This’ll only take a second. Come on, Shakespeare. Let’s go.”
He walked her over to the car, his arm around her waist, the.30-.06 in his free hand. She supposed he could feel her trembling, but that was all right. She nerved herself, gnawing at her lower lip, remembering the ride into town in the back of this car. Sitting with Peter behind the mesh. Smelling Old Spice and the metallic scent of her own fear. No doorhandles. No window-cranks. And nothing to look at but the back of Entragian’ s sunburned neck and that stupid blank-eyed bear stuck to the dashboard.
She leaned into Entragian’s stink-except it was really Tak ’s stink, she knew that now—and ripped the bear off the dashboard. Now its blank can toi eyes stared directly up at hers, as if asking her what all this foolishness could possibly be about, what good it could possibly accom-plish, what evil it cojild possibly change.
“Well,” she told it, “you ’re gone, motherfucker, and that’s step one.” She dropped it to the rough surface of the pit and then stamped down on it. Hard. She felt it crunch under her sneaker. It was, in some fundamental way, the most satisfying moment of the whole miserable nightmare.
“Don’t tell me,” Johnny said. “It’s some new variation of est therapy.
Mary worked herself out of the truck, wincing at every move. She hurt all over, but her legs were the worst. If she had sat in the back of the truck much longer, she reckoned she probably wouldn’t have been able to walk at all.
“Johnny, do you still have those aspirin.”
He handed them over. She took three, washing them down with the last of her Jolt. Then she walked around to the front of the truck.
They were at the bottom of the China Pit, first time for the others, second for her. The field office was near; looking at it, thinking of what was inside and of how close she had probably come to ending her existence in there, made her feel like screaming. Then her eyes fixed on the cruiser, the driver’s door still open, the hood still raised, the air-cleaner still lying by the left front tire.
“Put your arm around me,” she told Johnny.
He did, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Now walk me over to that car.”
“Why.”
“There’s something I have to do.”
“Mary, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish,” David said.
“This’ll only take a second. Come on, Shakespeare. Let’s go.”
He walked her over to the car, his arm around her waist, the.30-.06 in his free hand. She supposed he could feel her trembling, but that was all right. She nerved herself, gnawing at her lower lip, remembering the ride into town in the back of this car. Sitting with Peter behind the mesh. Smelling Old Spice and the metallic scent of her own fear. No doorhandles. No window-cranks. And nothing to look at but the back of Entragian’ s sunburned neck and that stupid blank-eyed bear stuck to the dashboard.
She leaned into Entragian’s stink-except it was really Tak ’s stink, she knew that now—and ripped the bear off the dashboard. Now its blank can toi eyes stared directly up at hers, as if asking her what all this foolishness could possibly be about, what good it could possibly accom-plish, what evil it cojild possibly change.
“Well,” she told it, “you ’re gone, motherfucker, and that’s step one.” She dropped it to the rough surface of the pit and then stamped down on it. Hard. She felt it crunch under her sneaker. It was, in some fundamental way, the most satisfying moment of the whole miserable nightmare.
“Don’t tell me,” Johnny said. “It’s some new variation of est therapy.