JК
Desperation :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 410 из 422”
Johnny slipped the bags of ANFO off his neck,then yanked the hammer from his belt.
He’d have to work fast. He was cut in what felt like a billion places, and already he could feel the grayness of blood-loss crowding in on his mind. It made him think of Connecticut again, and the way the fogs came in after dark during the last weeks of March and the first weeks of April. The oldtimers called it strawberry spring, God knew why.
“Yes! Yes, I can do that!” The voice from the narrow red throat sounded eager. It also sounded frightened. “Anything! Success… money… women… and I can heal you, don’t forget that! I can heal you!”
“Can you bring David’s father back.”
Silence from the mi. Now the brownish-black mist coming out of the hole found the long confusion of slashes along his back and legs, and suddenly he felt as if he had been attacked by moray eels… or piranhas. He screamed.
“I can make the pain stop!” Talc said from its tiny hole. “All you have to do is ask-and stop yourself, of course.”
With sweat stinging his eyes, Johnny used the claw end of the hammer to tear open one of the ANFO bags. He tilted the slit over the tiny hole, spread the cloth, and poured through one cupped, bloody hand. The red light was obliterated at once, as if the thing down there feared it might inadvertently set off the charge itself.
“You can’t!” it screamed, its voice muffled now-. but Johnny heard it clearly enough in his head, just the same. “You can’t, damn you! An lab! An lab! Os dam! You bastard!”
An lah yourself Johnny thought. And a big fat can de lach in the bargain.
The first bag was empty. Johnny could see dim white-ness in the hole where there had been only black and pulsing red before. The gullet leading back to Tak’s world or plane… or dimension… wasn’t that long, then. Not in physical terms of measurement.
And was the pain in his back and legs less.
Maybe I’ve just gone numb, he thought. Not a new state for me, actually.
He grabbed the second bag of ANFO and saw one entire side of it was sopped through with his blood. He felt a growing weakness to go along with the fog in his head. Had to be quick now. Had to go like the wind.
He tore open the second bag with the hammer’s claw, trying to steel himself against the shrieks in his head; Talc had lapsed entirely into that other language now.
He turned the bag over the hole and watched ANFO pellets pour out. The whiteness grew brighter as the gullet filled. By the time the bag was empty, the top layer of pel-lets was only three inches or so down.
Johnny slipped the bags of ANFO off his neck,then yanked the hammer from his belt.
He’d have to work fast. He was cut in what felt like a billion places, and already he could feel the grayness of blood-loss crowding in on his mind. It made him think of Connecticut again, and the way the fogs came in after dark during the last weeks of March and the first weeks of April. The oldtimers called it strawberry spring, God knew why.
“Yes! Yes, I can do that!” The voice from the narrow red throat sounded eager. It also sounded frightened. “Anything! Success… money… women… and I can heal you, don’t forget that! I can heal you!”
“Can you bring David’s father back.”
Silence from the mi. Now the brownish-black mist coming out of the hole found the long confusion of slashes along his back and legs, and suddenly he felt as if he had been attacked by moray eels… or piranhas. He screamed.
“I can make the pain stop!” Talc said from its tiny hole. “All you have to do is ask-and stop yourself, of course.”
With sweat stinging his eyes, Johnny used the claw end of the hammer to tear open one of the ANFO bags. He tilted the slit over the tiny hole, spread the cloth, and poured through one cupped, bloody hand. The red light was obliterated at once, as if the thing down there feared it might inadvertently set off the charge itself.
“You can’t!” it screamed, its voice muffled now-. but Johnny heard it clearly enough in his head, just the same. “You can’t, damn you! An lab! An lab! Os dam! You bastard!”
An lah yourself Johnny thought. And a big fat can de lach in the bargain.
The first bag was empty. Johnny could see dim white-ness in the hole where there had been only black and pulsing red before. The gullet leading back to Tak’s world or plane… or dimension… wasn’t that long, then. Not in physical terms of measurement.
And was the pain in his back and legs less.
Maybe I’ve just gone numb, he thought. Not a new state for me, actually.
He grabbed the second bag of ANFO and saw one entire side of it was sopped through with his blood. He felt a growing weakness to go along with the fog in his head. Had to be quick now. Had to go like the wind.
He tore open the second bag with the hammer’s claw, trying to steel himself against the shrieks in his head; Talc had lapsed entirely into that other language now.
He turned the bag over the hole and watched ANFO pellets pour out. The whiteness grew brighter as the gullet filled. By the time the bag was empty, the top layer of pel-lets was only three inches or so down.