JК
Desperation :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 421 из 422”
Can’t be, he thought again, but when he unfolded it, the words printed at the top were completely familiar:
WEST WENTWORTH MIDDLE SCHOOL 100 Viland Avenue Then, in big black tabloid type:
EXCUSED EARLY
And, last of all:
Parent of excused student must sign this pass.
Pass must be returned to attendance office.
Except now there was more. A brief scrawled message below the last line of printing.
Something moved inside him. Some huge thing. His throat closed up, then opened to let out a long, wailing cry that was only grief at the top. He swayed, clutching at the Acura’s roof, lowered his forehead to his arm, and began to sob. From some great distance be heard the truck doors opening, heard Steve and Cynthia racing toward him. He wept. He thought of Pie, holding her doll and smiling up at him. He thought of his mother, dancing to the radio in the laundry room with the iron in one hand, laughing at her own foolishness. He thought of his father, sitting on the porch with his feet cocked up on the rail, a book in one hand and a beer in the other, waving to him as he came home from Brian’s, pushing his bike up the drive-way toward the garage in the thick twilight. He thought of how much he had loved them, how much he would always love them.
And Johnny. Johnny standing on the dark edge of the China Shaft, saying Sometimes he makes us live.
David wept with his head down and the EXCUSED EARLY pass now crumpled in his closed fist, that huge thing still moving inside him, something like a landslide… but maybe not so bad.
Maybe, in the end, not so bad.
“David.” It was Steve, shaking him. “David!”
“I’m all right,” he said, raising his head and wiping his eyes with a shaking hand.
“What happened.”
“Nothing. I’m okay. Go on. We’ll follow you.” Cynthia was looking at him doubtfully.
“Sure.” He nodded.
They went back, looking over their shoulders at him.
David was able to wave. Then he got into the Acura and closed the door.
“What was it.” Mary asked. “What did you find.”
She reached for the folded piece of stiff blue paper, but David held it in his own hand for the time being. “Do you remember when the cop threw you into the holding area where we were.” he asked. “How you went for the gun.”
“I’ll never forget it.”
“While you were fighting with him, a shotgun shell fell off the desk and rolled over to me. When I had a chance, I picked it up. Johnny must have stolen it out of my pocket when he was hanging onto me. In the mineshaft. After my dad was killed. Johnny used the shell to set off the ANFO.
Can’t be, he thought again, but when he unfolded it, the words printed at the top were completely familiar:
WEST WENTWORTH MIDDLE SCHOOL 100 Viland Avenue Then, in big black tabloid type:
EXCUSED EARLY
And, last of all:
Parent of excused student must sign this pass.
Pass must be returned to attendance office.
Except now there was more. A brief scrawled message below the last line of printing.
Something moved inside him. Some huge thing. His throat closed up, then opened to let out a long, wailing cry that was only grief at the top. He swayed, clutching at the Acura’s roof, lowered his forehead to his arm, and began to sob. From some great distance be heard the truck doors opening, heard Steve and Cynthia racing toward him. He wept. He thought of Pie, holding her doll and smiling up at him. He thought of his mother, dancing to the radio in the laundry room with the iron in one hand, laughing at her own foolishness. He thought of his father, sitting on the porch with his feet cocked up on the rail, a book in one hand and a beer in the other, waving to him as he came home from Brian’s, pushing his bike up the drive-way toward the garage in the thick twilight. He thought of how much he had loved them, how much he would always love them.
And Johnny. Johnny standing on the dark edge of the China Shaft, saying Sometimes he makes us live.
David wept with his head down and the EXCUSED EARLY pass now crumpled in his closed fist, that huge thing still moving inside him, something like a landslide… but maybe not so bad.
Maybe, in the end, not so bad.
“David.” It was Steve, shaking him. “David!”
“I’m all right,” he said, raising his head and wiping his eyes with a shaking hand.
“What happened.”
“Nothing. I’m okay. Go on. We’ll follow you.” Cynthia was looking at him doubtfully.
“Sure.” He nodded.
They went back, looking over their shoulders at him.
David was able to wave. Then he got into the Acura and closed the door.
“What was it.” Mary asked. “What did you find.”
She reached for the folded piece of stiff blue paper, but David held it in his own hand for the time being. “Do you remember when the cop threw you into the holding area where we were.” he asked. “How you went for the gun.”
“I’ll never forget it.”
“While you were fighting with him, a shotgun shell fell off the desk and rolled over to me. When I had a chance, I picked it up. Johnny must have stolen it out of my pocket when he was hanging onto me. In the mineshaft. After my dad was killed. Johnny used the shell to set off the ANFO.