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The Laughing Corpse :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 198 из 213There was something human in his eyes at last. I couldn't read it though. Whatever emotion it was, it was nothing I understood.
He turned and left the room.
I stared down at Wanda. She lay on her side without moving. She was wearing another long multicolored skirt. A white blouse with a wide lace collar was half-ripped from one shoulder. The bra she wore was the color of plums. I bet there had been panties to match before Tommy got hold of her.
"Wanda," I said it softly. "Wanda, can you hear me?"
Her head moved slowly, painfully. One eye opened wide and panic-stricken. The other eye was glued shut with dried blood. Wanda pawed at the eye, frantic for a moment. When she could open both eyes, she blinked at me. Her eyes took a moment to focus and really see who it was. What had she expected to see in those first few panicked moments? I didn't want to know.
"Wanda, can you speak?"
"Yes." The voice was soft, but clear.
I wanted to ask if she was alright, but I knew the answer to that. "If you can get over here and free me, I'll get us out of here."
She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "We can't get out. Harold's gonna kill us." She made that last sound like a statement of pure fact.
"I don't believe in giving up, Wanda. Untie me and I'll think of something."
"He'll hurt me if I help you," she said.
"He's planning on you being the human sacrifice to raise his ancestor. How much more hurt can you get?"
She blinked at me, but her eyes were clearing. It was almost as if panic were a drug, and Wanda was fighting off the influence. Or maybe it was Harold Gaynor who was the drug. Yeah, that made sense. She was a junkie. A Harold Gaynor junkie. Every junkie is willing to die for one more fix. But I wasn't.
"Untie me, Wanda, please. I can get us out of this."
"And if you can't?"
"Then we're no worse off," I said.
She seemed to think about that for a minute. I strained for sounds from the hallway. If Bruno came back while we were in the middle of escaping, it would be very bad.
Wanda propped herself up on her arms. Her legs trailed out behind her under the skirt, dead, no movement at all. She began dragging herself towards me. I thought it would be slow work, but she moved quickly. The muscles in her arms bunched and pushed, working well. She was by the chair in a matter of minutes.
I smiled. "You're very strong."
"My arms are all I have. They have to be strong," Wanda said.
She started picking at the ropes that bound my right wrist.
He turned and left the room.
I stared down at Wanda. She lay on her side without moving. She was wearing another long multicolored skirt. A white blouse with a wide lace collar was half-ripped from one shoulder. The bra she wore was the color of plums. I bet there had been panties to match before Tommy got hold of her.
"Wanda," I said it softly. "Wanda, can you hear me?"
Her head moved slowly, painfully. One eye opened wide and panic-stricken. The other eye was glued shut with dried blood. Wanda pawed at the eye, frantic for a moment. When she could open both eyes, she blinked at me. Her eyes took a moment to focus and really see who it was. What had she expected to see in those first few panicked moments? I didn't want to know.
"Wanda, can you speak?"
"Yes." The voice was soft, but clear.
I wanted to ask if she was alright, but I knew the answer to that. "If you can get over here and free me, I'll get us out of here."
She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "We can't get out. Harold's gonna kill us." She made that last sound like a statement of pure fact.
"I don't believe in giving up, Wanda. Untie me and I'll think of something."
"He'll hurt me if I help you," she said.
"He's planning on you being the human sacrifice to raise his ancestor. How much more hurt can you get?"
She blinked at me, but her eyes were clearing. It was almost as if panic were a drug, and Wanda was fighting off the influence. Or maybe it was Harold Gaynor who was the drug. Yeah, that made sense. She was a junkie. A Harold Gaynor junkie. Every junkie is willing to die for one more fix. But I wasn't.
"Untie me, Wanda, please. I can get us out of this."
"And if you can't?"
"Then we're no worse off," I said.
She seemed to think about that for a minute. I strained for sounds from the hallway. If Bruno came back while we were in the middle of escaping, it would be very bad.
Wanda propped herself up on her arms. Her legs trailed out behind her under the skirt, dead, no movement at all. She began dragging herself towards me. I thought it would be slow work, but she moved quickly. The muscles in her arms bunched and pushed, working well. She was by the chair in a matter of minutes.
I smiled. "You're very strong."
"My arms are all I have. They have to be strong," Wanda said.
She started picking at the ropes that bound my right wrist.