JК
Desperation :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 391 из 422His face was only a pale blur in the dark, impossible to read, but she sensed no agitation in him. Certainly the shoulders under her hands were calm enough, at least for now.
Maybe he saw it was going to be all right, she thought. In that vision he had… or whatever it was. Or maybe—She didn’t want to finish that thought, but was slow closing it off.
— maybe he just knows there ’s no other choice.
There was a long moment of silence-very long, it seemed to Mary-and then a high whipcrack rifle report that should have echoed and didn’t. It was just there and then gone, absorbed by the walls and benches and valleys of the open pit. In its aftermath she heard one startled bird-cry-Quowwwk! — and then nothing more. She wondered why Tak hadn’t sent the animals against them as it had sent them against so many of the people in town.
Because the six of them together were something special. Maybe. If so, it was David who had made them special, the way a single great player can elevate a whole team.
They turned and saw Ralph bent over the padlock (to Mary he looked like the Pieman bent over Simple Simon on the Howard Johnson’s signs), peering at it through the helmet’s faceplate. The lock was now warped and twisted, with a large black bullet-hole through the center of it, but when he yanked on it, it continued to hold fast.
“One more time,” he said, and twirled his finger at them, telling them to turn around.
They did and there was another whipcrack. No bird-cry followed his one. Mary supposed whatever had called was far away by now, although she had heard no flapping wings. Not that she would have, probably, with two gun-shots ringing in her ears.
This time when Ralph yanked, the lock’s arm popped free of its ruined innards. Ralph pulled it off the hasp and threw it aside. When he took Johnny’s helmet off, he was grinning.
David ran to him and gave him a high-five. “Good go-ing, Dad!”
Steve pulled the door open and peered in. “Man! Darker than a carload of assholes.”
“Is there a light-switch.” Cynthia asked. “No windows, there must be.”
He felt around, first on the right, then the left. “Watch for spiders,” Mary said nervously.
“There could be spiders.”
“Here it is, I got it,” Steve said. There was a click-click, click-click, but no light.
“Who’s still got a flashlight.” Cynthia asked. “I must’ve left mine back in the damned movie theater. I don’t have it, anyway.”
There was no answer.
Maybe he saw it was going to be all right, she thought. In that vision he had… or whatever it was. Or maybe—She didn’t want to finish that thought, but was slow closing it off.
— maybe he just knows there ’s no other choice.
There was a long moment of silence-very long, it seemed to Mary-and then a high whipcrack rifle report that should have echoed and didn’t. It was just there and then gone, absorbed by the walls and benches and valleys of the open pit. In its aftermath she heard one startled bird-cry-Quowwwk! — and then nothing more. She wondered why Tak hadn’t sent the animals against them as it had sent them against so many of the people in town.
Because the six of them together were something special. Maybe. If so, it was David who had made them special, the way a single great player can elevate a whole team.
They turned and saw Ralph bent over the padlock (to Mary he looked like the Pieman bent over Simple Simon on the Howard Johnson’s signs), peering at it through the helmet’s faceplate. The lock was now warped and twisted, with a large black bullet-hole through the center of it, but when he yanked on it, it continued to hold fast.
“One more time,” he said, and twirled his finger at them, telling them to turn around.
They did and there was another whipcrack. No bird-cry followed his one. Mary supposed whatever had called was far away by now, although she had heard no flapping wings. Not that she would have, probably, with two gun-shots ringing in her ears.
This time when Ralph yanked, the lock’s arm popped free of its ruined innards. Ralph pulled it off the hasp and threw it aside. When he took Johnny’s helmet off, he was grinning.
David ran to him and gave him a high-five. “Good go-ing, Dad!”
Steve pulled the door open and peered in. “Man! Darker than a carload of assholes.”
“Is there a light-switch.” Cynthia asked. “No windows, there must be.”
He felt around, first on the right, then the left. “Watch for spiders,” Mary said nervously.
“There could be spiders.”
“Here it is, I got it,” Steve said. There was a click-click, click-click, but no light.
“Who’s still got a flashlight.” Cynthia asked. “I must’ve left mine back in the damned movie theater. I don’t have it, anyway.”
There was no answer.