JК
The Laughing Corpse :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 211 из 213The zombie tore the dry earth. I heard other old graves breaking in the still, summer night. It broke its way out of his grave, just like Gaynor had wanted.
Gaynor sat in his wheelchair on the crest of the hill. He was surrounded by the dead. Dozens of zombies in various stages of decay crowded close to him. But I hadn't given the order yet. They wouldn't hurt him unless I told them to.
"Ask him where the treasure is," Gaynor shouted.
I stared at him and every zombie turned with my eyes and stared at him, too. He didn't understand. Gaynor was like a lot of people with money. They mistake money for power. It isn't the same thing at all.
"Kill the man Harold Gaynor." I said it loud enough to carry on the still air.
"I'll give you a million dollars for having raised him. Whether I find the treasure or not," Gaynor said.
"I don't want your money, Gaynor," I said.
The zombies were moving in on every side, slow, hands extended, like every horror movie you've ever seen. Sometimes Hollywood is accurate, whatta ya know.
"Two million, three million!" His voice was breaking with fear. He'd had a better seat for Dominga's death than I had. He knew what was coming. "Four million!"
"Not enough," I said.
"How much?" he shouted. "Name your price!" I couldn't see him now. The zombies hid him from view.
"No money, Gaynor, just you dead, that's enough."
He started screaming, wordlessly. I felt the hands begin to rip at him. Teeth to tear.
Wanda grabbed my legs. "Don't, don't hurt him. Please!"
I just stared at her. I was remembering Benjamin Reynolds's blood-coated teddy bear, the tiny hand with that stupid plastic ring on it, the blood-soaked bedroom, the baby blanket. "He deserves to die," I said. My voice sounded separate from me, distant and echoing. It didn't sound like me at all.
"You can't just murder him," Wanda said.
"Watch me," I said.
She tried to climb my body, but her legs betrayed her and she fell in a heap at my feet, sobbing.
I didn't understand how Wanda could beg for his life after what he had done to her. Love, I suppose. In the end she really did love him. And that, perhaps, was the saddest thing of all.
When Gaynor died, I knew it. When pieces of him stained almost every hand and mouth of the dead, they stopped. They turned to me, waiting for new orders. The power was still buoying me up. I wasn't tired. Was there enough to lay them all to rest? I hoped so.
"Go back, all of you, go back to your graves. Rest in the quiet earth. Go back, go back.
Gaynor sat in his wheelchair on the crest of the hill. He was surrounded by the dead. Dozens of zombies in various stages of decay crowded close to him. But I hadn't given the order yet. They wouldn't hurt him unless I told them to.
"Ask him where the treasure is," Gaynor shouted.
I stared at him and every zombie turned with my eyes and stared at him, too. He didn't understand. Gaynor was like a lot of people with money. They mistake money for power. It isn't the same thing at all.
"Kill the man Harold Gaynor." I said it loud enough to carry on the still air.
"I'll give you a million dollars for having raised him. Whether I find the treasure or not," Gaynor said.
"I don't want your money, Gaynor," I said.
The zombies were moving in on every side, slow, hands extended, like every horror movie you've ever seen. Sometimes Hollywood is accurate, whatta ya know.
"Two million, three million!" His voice was breaking with fear. He'd had a better seat for Dominga's death than I had. He knew what was coming. "Four million!"
"Not enough," I said.
"How much?" he shouted. "Name your price!" I couldn't see him now. The zombies hid him from view.
"No money, Gaynor, just you dead, that's enough."
He started screaming, wordlessly. I felt the hands begin to rip at him. Teeth to tear.
Wanda grabbed my legs. "Don't, don't hurt him. Please!"
I just stared at her. I was remembering Benjamin Reynolds's blood-coated teddy bear, the tiny hand with that stupid plastic ring on it, the blood-soaked bedroom, the baby blanket. "He deserves to die," I said. My voice sounded separate from me, distant and echoing. It didn't sound like me at all.
"You can't just murder him," Wanda said.
"Watch me," I said.
She tried to climb my body, but her legs betrayed her and she fell in a heap at my feet, sobbing.
I didn't understand how Wanda could beg for his life after what he had done to her. Love, I suppose. In the end she really did love him. And that, perhaps, was the saddest thing of all.
When Gaynor died, I knew it. When pieces of him stained almost every hand and mouth of the dead, they stopped. They turned to me, waiting for new orders. The power was still buoying me up. I wasn't tired. Was there enough to lay them all to rest? I hoped so.
"Go back, all of you, go back to your graves. Rest in the quiet earth. Go back, go back.